Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Nice.”
As we cruise toward Kearny’s Cove, she fixes her ponytail, which got messed up during the wild ride. I slow us almost to a crawl and grab my water bottle. I gulp down a much-needed swig, then offer it to Cassie, who shakes her head. She’s busy examining the cockpit, running a hand over the sleek vinyl upholstery.
She glances around the deck. “How is there a cabin down there? Doesn’t seem like there’d be any room on this thing.”
“First of all, don’t call my girlfriend a thing.”
She snorts.
“And the cabin is shockingly spacious. Seriously, you’re going to love it.”
“Am I now?”
A heated look passes between us. My heart’s beating fast again. This time it has nothing to do with the Lightning and everything to do with Cassie Soul. I’m dying to get inside her. I’ve been thinking about it all goddamn day.
We arrive at Kearny’s Cove, a gorgeous private spot that’s sheltered by a rock wall so the wind barely touches this part of the bay. There’s a beach, albeit a tiny one. A narrow strip of sand, situated between the rock face and the reeds.
“This is such a pretty spot! Is this where we’re having dinner?” Cassie asks.
“Yup.”
She eyes me. “How many other women have you brought here?”
“None,” I answer truthfully.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “I guess I’ve never met anyone I liked enough to bring on a romantic overnight.”
“Oooooh, Gate’s trying to be romantic, huh?”
“Not anymore,” I grumble.
“You didn’t do this kind of stuff with Alana?”
“Nope. We only ever hung out at her house. Never even went out to dinner.”
I anchor us and grab the cooler from below. Then I kick off my deck shoes and hop into the water. It splashes around my knees, soaking the bottom of my shorts. I deposit the cooler on the beach, then return to help Cassie off the boat.
Dinner consists of grilled chicken, Greek salad, fruit for dessert, and a bottle of champagne that makes Cassie snicker when I pull it out. “Stole that from the club again?”
“Sure did.”
I pour her a glass. We’re on the blanket I laid out on the sand, lazily eating our dinner while the sun begins its descent toward the horizon light.
“Okay, this is romantic,” she relents, admiring the colors streaking across the sky. Brilliant pinks, reds, and oranges. The sunset is almost as pretty as she is.
After dinner, we stick our trash in the cooler and talk over champagne about nothing in particular. Cassie’s birthday is next weekend. I offer to take her to dinner, but she has plans both days; dad on Saturday, mom on Sunday. She seems more enthused about the former, but I get the sense she and her stepmother have an awkward relationship, which puts a damper on most family occasions.
Cassie confirms that by adding, “Honestly, I don’t think Nia likes me very much. I’m just a reminder of my mother. Aka, her husband’s nasty ex-wife.”
“Where did you say she was from again? The Dominican?”
“Haiti.”
“Oh cool. Does that mean she speaks French? Wait, or is it Creole?”
“French, but according to Nia there’s a perceivable difference between Haitian French and French French. She says it’s in the intonation. Not that I would ever hear the difference. She’s really nice,” Cassie admits. “Dad found himself a good one.”
Eventually, darkness falls over us, so we wade back to the boat. We kick off our shoes and go below deck where Cassie’s eyes widen.
“See,” I say smugly. “It’s huge.”
The cabin is more than just roomy—it offers plenty of amenities for an overnight in the cove. Built-in closets for storage, a pull-out refrigerator, a portable head. The center table converts into a bed, which I’d already set up before we left the dock.
“It even has air conditioning?” She gapes.
“Yup. Told you, this gal ain’t cheap.”
Cassie flops cross-legged in the center of the bed. “Do you think you’ll accept Gil Jackson’s offer? To sail to New Zealand?”
I’d mentioned it over dinner but didn’t linger too long on the subject. It’s been gnawing at the back of my brain since Gil’s phone call. “I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.”
“That’s nuts that he has all these boats. His own fleet. Or is it an armada? What do you call a bunch of boats?” She wrinkles her nose. “A bushel?”
“Yes, baby, a bushel of boats. You nailed it.”
“I sense sarcasm.”
“You sense right.”
Her indignant expression dissolves into a smile. “I will forgive that because you called me baby and that kind of turned me on.”
“Oh, did it?”
Just like that, we’re eye-fucking each other. And suddenly my entire body clenches in anticipation at the knowledge that it won’t be long before we’re real fucking.
“Come here.” Her voice is throaty.
I join her on the bed. Try to sit at first, but she promptly pushes me onto my back. I land with a thump, smiling up at her. She looks so good right now. Eyes shining. Cheeks red. Windblown hair—copper, not ginger, although I won’t give her the satisfaction of letting her know she’s right about that. In her seated position, her shorts have ridden up her thighs. I reach out, unable to stop myself from stroking her smooth flesh.