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“Nope. No thank you. Too many ropes for me. I’m a rope free sort of man. Let them sails run free like horses out west. Oh, the rudder. The steering wheel. I guess I’ll pass. I don’t have a valid sailing license. So yeah…wine?”
He studied me closely, his jaw set, and then moved the boat around. I white-knuckled the edge of the seat, praying inwardly for the Virgin to keep me in her grace while on the outside I was smiling. Probably it was more like I was grinning maniacally. Henry slowed the boat. A fact that made me super happy. Then the boat stalled. I glanced around to see that we had moved sideways of the wind or so it felt that way to me. We’d inched closer back to the eastern shore. I sat there sweating bullets and grinning like a drunken monkey as he slowly lowered the anchor, took down the sails, and came back to sit beside me.
“Philip, are you well?” he asked as gently as possible, his hand coming to rest on my knee.
“Finer than chicken lips,” I joked, my throat as dry as a cat turd rolled in sand. “I’d really like some wine. Are we safe here?” I chanced a glance around. Boats were zipping by, some pulling skiers, some just puddling along with fishing lines dragging in their wake.
“We’re hard to miss. Let me get some wine and crackers.” He gave my knee a squeeze, then disappeared into the belly of the yacht. I sat there smiling so hard my cheeks were starting to hurt. A few long moments passed. Two young girls on jet skis raced by, hooting and hollering in glee, shouting hellos to me as they flew by. Good God above. “Philip?” I jumped and squeaked. “Sorry, I thought you heard me calling. I think we should go back to shore.”
“No! We are not doing that. We’re sailing. I love sailing.” The look he threw at me could have cut through a tank. “Seriously, I am fine. Mm, smell that brine.” I drew in a deep breath as the wind shifted. Henry moved the rudder smoothly with agility or whatever a man did to keep a boat from capsizing. “Nothing like the sea to make a man feel alive!” I slapped my chest.
“We’re not at sea,” he mildly corrected, his mouth set as he glanced my way.
“Sure, right, I knew that. Explains the lack of whales.”
“Indeed.” His smile was terse. “Why don’t we go below deck and have a sip of wine? Madame packed some delicious cheeses and crackers to nibble on in case your belly is squeamish?”
Damn it. He thought I was seasick, or even worse, scared. “Nah, not a squeamish bone in my body.” I stood up, felt the boat move, and threw myself at him like some lady in a Regency romance. Good thing he was strong. “Oh shit, sorry. Don’t have my sea legs yet.”
“It takes some time.” He kept a hand on my back as I shuffled down to the belly of the boat. It was nicer down here, no sun or water to gaze into while wondering how deep it was. He removed his dark glasses to expose those beautiful blue peepers. A small table, a bed big enough for two, and a small bathroom done in the same shades of soft brown and light blue. I was glad to see that the shades on the long, oval windows had been pulled shut. Henry steered me to the table in the corner, making sure I was seated before moving to the fridge to remove a bottle of wine and several containers of food. The berth, I was pretty sure that was the right term, was cozy. The rocking of the boat didn’t seem quite as bad down here. I felt myself start to unclench bit by bit. Maybe that was just because I couldn’t see the water. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say. “Now, this is just a few appetizers,” he explained as he uncorked the bottle and poured a few fingers of his ice wine. “This is lovely and sweet, more like juice than wine, so you should enjoy it.” He passed me the glass. I took a swig, found it to be delicious, and tossed it all back in one pull. Then I held out the empty glass for more. He cocked an eyebrow but poured another few glugs into the glass. “We also have some smoked gouda and parmesan-flavored cheddar with those pretty little bites of mini toast.”
“Looks good.” I sipped this second glass as he sat back to appraise me. “What?” I asked after shoving a bite of toast topped with gouda cheese into my mouth.
“I think we have some truths that we need to share with each other, don’t you?” I shrugged, chewed, swallowed, and took another drink of my ice wine. “Would you care to start clearing the air so we can move forward, or shall I?”
I blew out a breath, apologized for the toast crumbs that flew out of my mouth, and bolstered myself for the big talk ahead. That talk would require more food, though. Nothing threw Phil Greco off his feet. Not even life altering talks sitting in the middle of a lake that might swallow him up, aka that whale that gulped up Jonah or, and maybe even bigger, exposing his underbelly to a man he might be sort of falling into deep feelings with.
Chapter Twelve
Henri
If someone had told me a few weeks ago that I would be upset that Philip Greco was discomfited, I would have laughed in their face.
Now, by the wild quirk of the heavens and far too much time around the man, I was greatly distressed over his fears. And it was fear. He could try to hide it by joshing or telling stories about a cousin who once stood on his head for sixteen days to try to break a world record but failed when he attempted to eat some zucchini leaf soup and got a chunk of squash in his nose, which, it seemed, made him sneeze then lose his balance.
“…to this day Cousin Larry cries whenever he sees zucchini.” I nodded as he reached for the wine bottle. I gently moved it away from his hand, which got me a dark look. One that, I was sure, would intimidate those he played hockey against, but not me. I knew this man too well now. It was truly incredible how much you learned about a person who lived in your home, even when you tried to avoid him as much as you could given you felt things about him. “You cutting me off?”
“In a manner, yes.” I placed the bottle on the floor of the cabin by my feet. “We need to talk, Philip, and I do not wish for you to be drunk when we do. This is…the things that I wish to say to you are important, and personal…things that I do not want you to mock me about because you are tipsy.”
“Okay, first off, I would never mock you if you were telling me personal deep stuff. That ain’t me and you know it.” He leaned over the table to tap on my forearm while he spoke as if he didn’t have my full attention simply by being in the same space as me. “Second, I got things to say to you too that are not going to sit too well, but if we want to be friends, we got to be honest. Okay, so fine, I don’t need no more wine. I’m going to tell you the truth.” I nodded silently and ever-so-slowly took his clammy hand in mine. His gaze dropped to our meshed fingers, then rose back to my face. “Truth. You are the prettiest and prissiest man I ever met. I think I got some emotions for you that got nothing to do with being a houseguest or sneaking out to work on that Cabriolet at night when you’re sleeping.”
“You’ve been doing what?” I asked, but he opted to just plow on as he usually did once his mouth fully engaged. It was kind of charming. I cannot believe I think that.
“Also, and this is not the only thing that I need to say, but it’s one that you should know since we’re here on your boat, which is really pretty. Be prettier on land, but then it would be a car and not a boat. Okay, so…I might have elongated a few factual elements when it comes to my prowess in the category of water sports.”
I fought back a chuckle. The man did have pride, and there was no denying that. “And what might those factual elements be?” I rubbed his wrist with my thumb, a soothing massage on a pressure point that might ease his discomfort, I hoped. The only sounds in the berth were that of the water caressing the sides of my boat.
He wrinkled his nose, making the tiny ring move up. Another charming thing. I was ridiculously smitten. How and when it happened, I could not say, but what I once found annoying, I now found beguiling.
“I might not be quite as trout-like as I professed to be,” he confessed with a rush of air as if the words had been expelled from his very soul.
“You cannot swim?” I asked as if in shock. He rolled his eyes and gave my fingers a tug. “I would not have ever surmised.”
“Liar. You knew, didn’t you?” I nodded. He blew out a breath that billowed his cheeks. “When did you catch on?”
“When you wouldn’t step onto the dock and then begged for a life jacket.”
“Begging is a strong word. I politely asked.”
