"Such as how I enjoy sports and running, but didn't want to be a gym teacher."
"Exactly." A gull winged low, dipping for supper in the comfortable silence before he picked up the conversational thread again. "Have you sailed much?"
"Nope. This is my first time."
The wheel slithered through his shocked-slack fingers before he secured his grip again and redirected the bow. "You crawled up there blind? What if it hadn't been safe? Good God, haven't you pitched off enough high places into water for one month?"
His concern was more than a little touching. She brushed a reassuring hand over his thigh—whoa baby. She pulled her arm back. "You would have told me to stop."
"You're trusting me too easily."
"That's just my body, not my heart, pal. Two very different matters."
At least he had the grace to look away. "So this is your first boating trip."
"It's my first sailing outing, but I've been boating. My family camped a lot growing up. Dad had a little John boat." She'd forgotten about those outings until now, and took comfort from knowing her childhood hadn't been all about her parents' arguments. "He pulled it behind that old truck he still drives. I swear he'll be driving that same truck when he takes Jamie and the new baby off to college."
"Are you okay with these new additions to your family?" Alongside, a fish jumped and plopped.
"I'm a little old for sibling rivalry, don't you think?"
"Feelings aren't always reasonable."
She'd never even considered it, but searched her heart and came up with... "I feel more like their aunt than a sister, which makes me a little sad. But Mom and Dad are a lot stronger as a couple this go-round. The kids will have everything they need and more. Actually, since Dad's coming up on retirement in less than five years, he'll be pulling cupcake duty for elementary birthday parties while Mom works."
"Now that's an image guaranteed to spread grins around the squadron, a crusty old loadmaster stirring up a batch of frosting with sprinkles."
"I'll try to slip you some pictures."
His laugh rolled out over the cresting waves rippling toward one of the ka-jillion small historic battlefield parks throughout the Charleston area. "So you really are okay with the new rug rat siblings."
"Totally. They're gonna have a great life. Don't get me wrong, Chris and I had a good childhood in so many ways, but for these children, things will be more stable."
He set the autopilot and shifted to stand beside her, leaning back against the side. "So when your dad says no flyboys for his little girl, it's a sentiment you echo."
"That would be strange since I've spent so much time dating flyers." Was he only making idle conversation? Tough to think and decide with his body heat blasting.
"I figured it was a rebellion thing against your father."
No way was she confessing to her real reason for her recent run of flyboy dates who happened to have preppy blond good looks.
She shifted her attention to the boats in the distance and the ones remaining in the faraway dock by Beachcombers. More familiar memories of the place flooded her brain, stuffed fish peering down from over windows with glass eyeballs and slack jaws. Netting full of shells, sand dollars and coral stretched across the wall. Small lanterns rested on each wooden picnic table, the smoky blue glass letting little light flicker through, more mood setting than illuminating.
Nothing new, yet she still clung to every detail, searching for a hidden clue in the place where she'd run into Carson last week while waiting for Gary...
"Hey, babe," Gary's greeting jolted through Nikki a second before he leaned an elbow on the bar and kissed her neck.
She ducked to the side with the help of the spinning bar stool. "I was starting to wonder if you'd stood me up."
"Never." He tapped her nearly empty amaretto sour. "Could I get you another drink?"
The press of bodies stifled her. She wanted space. She wanted to go home.
But first she had to tell him what little relationship they'd had was over. "Two's my limit since I'm driving. I'll take some plain orange juice."
"You've got it." He angled over her shoulder to place the order, his chest sealing against her back until she could feel the imprint of his favorite belt buckle against her spine—a cold metal buckle shaped like an overlarge casino coin.
And the imprint of more steel, lower down.