Page 52

“C’mon, c’mon. Just give me five more minutes,” I mutter to the sky.

Can I make it to the inlet before the storm hits? My answer arrives swiftly.

“Hang on!” I shout.

The squall slams into us, and the boat heels hard. The wind roars in my ears. I need the buoys to guide me, but I can’t fucking see in the driving rain. I white-knuckle the wheel and ignore the rain running in rivulets over my face.

“What can I do?” Jackie yells.

“I need another set of eyes. I want you forward of me in the cockpit. If you see anything—another boat, debris, markers—shout it out.” What I don’t tell her is the most dangerous part of this ride is coming up. Maneuvering between the jetties is going to be a bitch in this raging storm.

Waves break, and the current pulls. I need to bring the engine online, so I turn the key. The engine catches, and I listen for a beat. Then I nudge the throttle forward.

Minutes feel like hours until Jackie cries out, “I see rocks!”

The jetty looms behind the veils of rain, menacing, a shadowy black wall hemming us in.

Fuck. Here we go.

I check our position on the GPS, then scan ahead for the next channel marker.

“Keep watching for buoys,” I shout, my voice straining against the howling wind. “Holler out whatever you see.”

Jackie faces forward, one hand gripping a rail.

Her arm raises, and she points. “I see a red buoy!”

I allow myself one tiny thread of relief. “Red is on the right. Call them out as we pass.”

She does, her voice triumphant with each “Red!” or “Green!” as we follow the marked channel that leads us into the harbor.

Here the waves flatten, and I find a sheltered stretch of water where I can lower the mainsail. Jackie works with me, following my instructions and helping with the line.

The rain continues its relentless pounding, and we’re both drenched. I tell her to go below where it’s dry, but she remains statue-still, dripping, her ponytail gone and her hair plastered to her head. “You need my help to find your slip.”

I don’t really, but something shifts inside me and I want to keep her in my line of sight.

“Do me a favor?” I say instead. “Hang the fenders over the side?”

Her eyes coast over the Gail’s flanks. She turns partway and looks at me. “The bumper thingies?”

One corner of my mouth kicks up for the first time since I spotted the storm on the horizon. “Yeah, the bumper thingies.”

Once I maneuver the boat into the slip, Jackie alights onto the dock, taking the coiled stern line with her.

The adrenaline that got us here bleeds off, and I nearly slump from fatigue. Still, I’m amused by her determination. “You going to cleat off that line for me?” She nods. “Do you know how?” She shakes her head, and droplets fly from her hair.

I join her on the dock and pull the bow line. “I’ll show you.” I make quick work of the job, then stand in the pouring rain while I watch her unsure hands wind the figure eights around the cleat’s horns. I finish off the locking hitch for her and scramble back onto the boat so I can help her aboard. She comes willingly. The tilt of her body tells me she’s as exhausted as I am.

We go below, and I hand her a towel.

She wraps it around her head first, then blots herself. The cabin is submerged in gray shadows, reflecting the gloom outside, but I don’t switch on the lights. Despite the dim interior, her fern-green eyes are visibly wide as they hold mine. “We were in some serious trouble out there, weren’t we?”

“It got a little intense,” I admit.

She drops the towel and closes the distance between us. Those big eyes move across my face, lingering on my mouth. “You saved us.”

Instinct takes over, and I gently wipe a drop of salt spray from her cheekbone with my thumb. “You held your line out there when most people would have panicked, Jackie.” I let my hand linger against her jaw. “You were incredible today.”