"I figure he was pleased with her, since he grinned like a kid on
Christmas morning the whole afternoon. After he left, Cam wanted to bet
me that he would run her aground first time out on the Bay."
"Did you take the bet?"
"Hell, no. He likely will. But you haven't really sailed the Bay until
you've run aground."
Ethan wouldn't, she mused, watching his big, competent hands on the
wheel. He sailed clean.
"I remember when you and your family were building this sloop." She
trailed her fingers over the wheel. "I was helping out at the waterfront
the first time y'all took her out. Professor Quinn was at the wheel and
you were working the lines. You waved at me." Chuckling, she angled her
head to look up at him. "I was thrilled that you noticed me."
"I was always noticing you."
She leaned up and kissed his chin. "But you were careful not to let me
notice you noticing." On impulse she gave his jaw a teasing nip. "Until
lately."
"I guess I lost my knack for it." He turned his head until his mouth
found hers. "Just lately."
"Good." With a quiet laugh, she laid her head on his shoulder. "Because
I like noticing you notice me."
They weren't alone on the Bay, but he stayed well clear of the zipping
motorboats out for a summer-evening cruise. A flock of gulls frantically
swooped and swirled around the stern of a skiff where a young girl
tossed out bread. Her laugh carried, high and bright, to mix with the
greedy calls of the birds.
The breeze rose up, filling the sails and whisking away the wet heat of
the day. The few clouds drifting in the west were going pink around the
edges.
Almost time.
Odd, she realized, she wasn't a bit nervous. A little giddy perhaps,
because her head felt so light, her heart so free. Hope, so long buried,
was golden bright once freed.
She wondered if he would slip into one of the narrow channels where the
shade would be thick and the water the color of tobacco. He could thread
past the bobbing buoy markers to a quiet place, one without even the
gulls for company.
He was so content with her beside him, Ethan let the wind choose the
course. He should make adjustments, he thought. The sails would reef
before long if he didn't. But he didn't want to let her go--not quite
yet.
She smelled of her lemon soap, and her hair was soft against his cheek.
This could be their lives, he thought. Quiet moments, evening sails.
Standing together. Building little dreams into big ones.
"She's having the time of her life," Grace murmured.
"Hmmm?"
"The little girl there, feeding the gulls." She nodded in the direction
of the skiff, smiling as she imagined Aubrey, a few years from now,
laughing and calling to the gulls from the stern of Ethan's boat.
"Uh-oh, here comes her little brother to demand his share." She laughed,