Cole smiles at the driver, shaking his hand as he says something, and then the car is leaving the lot and the two of them are closing the distance to us. Just as Charlotte hugs Marcus, not letting go of Cole’s hand, a man unlocks the gate behind us. He’s dressed in khaki shorts and a light blue polo that’s unbuttoned. It feels way too cold for that kind of outfit, but maybe people who live here are more acclimated to the overcast, dreary weather.
“Mr. Fallon?” he asks.
“Nice to meet you,” Cole says, walking ahead of us, holding out his open hand to the man. “Frank, right?”
The man nods. “Pleasure to meet you. Bill said you’re planning for about eight hours? Far enough out to hopefully see some of the humpbacks and then a dinner, yes?”
Marcus and I share a glance as we keep a step behind the others.
He’d hired a private boat? No, not a boat. Ayacht.
“You hired a private tour?” Charlotte asks. “You didn’t have to do that!”
Cole kisses the back of her hand as he shrugs. “There won’t be cameras on this one, at least.”
Her cheeks flush, and sage wafts toward us, blending with the brine of the ocean. Clearly their morning together went well.
Without comment, the man walks down the dock, a calm quiet about him, and then holds his hand out to a large vessel at the end of the row. This one isn’t quite as tall or long as the others, though that’s not saying much.
“How big is it?” The question drops from me without realizing it.
Frank looks over at me, a smile curving his lips, clearly amused by my quiet shock. “Sixty feet, ma’am. It’s outfitted to house up to eight people comfortably on extended trips, though we’re more than able to entertain close to triple that without much strain. Bill’s hosted a few parties upwards of fifty people in the past.”
I nod as if all that makes sense and doesn’t completely reorient Cole’s entire family in my mind. There’s wealthy, yes, but this is an entirely different class.
“I didn’t realize your family owned a boat,” Charlotte says.
Cole shakes his head. “My dads don’t. They don’t really enjoy the water, but a few of their friends do. Bill, the man who owns this one, is Papa’s best friend.”
“Kayla said there’s some light snacks on the back deck for you,” Frank says as he unlatches a door and motions us on board. Marcus grabs my elbow as we carefully span the foot or so of water between the edge of the yacht and the dock. “And we’re happy to readjust anything so you’re comfortable. It’ll take us about twenty minutes to be under way and then about an hour or so to get to my and Mark’s favorite spot for the whales.”
Cole smiles. “Sounds great. Thank you again, Frank.”
He waves off the thanks.
As he’s turning away, I ask, “How likely is it we’ll be able to see them? The whales, I mean.”
Frank tilts his head as his gaze grows thoughtful. “Mornings are often better, but we’re going farther out than the larger tourist boats do, so we’ll probably get to see one or two at least. And we’re not in any hurry to get you back to the dock, so we can be patient and adjust if needed. We should be able to find you a pod or two.”
“Thank you,” I say, echoing Cole’s words.
He’s quick to deflect them, disappearing deeper into the boat through a door I hadn’t noticed, leaving us alone on the main deck. Cole guides us toward the far side of the boat. Sure enough, there’s a small table laid out with a white tablecloth, plates, and glasses. Three large platters sit in the center, the food plated like this is a Michelin star restaurant. There’s tomatoes and mozzarella on thin crackers, a pasta salad of some kind, and melon that’s probably just been cut. Placed between the serving platters are two large pitchers of what looks to be lemonade and water with strawberries and mint floating in it.
I’m not entirely sure what to do now. I’d expected a large crowd with minimal seating and a strict itinerary. All this open space and time? I’m not sure I like it. Give me a to-do list and a plan, please.
“Brought you those clothes,” Marcus says into the silence, holding out the bag to Charlotte. “Leggings and a sweater. I grabbed one of your claw clips, too, just in case.”
Charlotte lets go of Cole’s hand in favor of wrapping her arms around Marcus’s neck, stretching onto her tiptoes and kissing him, long and slow. I look away only to find Cole watching me, his gaze full of both curiosity and nerves where he leans against the side railing of the yacht, completely at ease. Tamping down my nerves, I cross the deck to him.
Sixteen
MEGAN
The bar of the railing digs into the tops of my thighs. Cole’s eyes close as he tilts his head back just as one of the clouds breaks and the rays of the sun gild him in golden light. It highlights the lean strength of his arms where he’s holding the railing and the warm red undertone of his hair. The combination reinforces the thought I had when I’d first seen the photo in the Council’s packet: he is gorgeous in a way money can’t buy, can’t replicate. Even as we stand on the very obvious wealth his family holds, regardless of if this yacht itself is owned by the Fallon family.
Raspberry bleeds out from me, and his breath catches for a moment.
The yacht lurches as it begins to move, pulling away from the dock. Someone calls out, just loud enough for us to hear them, but I don’t see Frank anywhere around us.
