Close to sunset, Janelle goes below deck to nap while Luca and Macon settle at the bow to play rummy. They’ve had a running game going for years, their scores somewhere in the thousands by now. Kimber fiddles with her fancy-looking camera and snaps pictures of them, the sky, the horizon, the shore. I’m about to suck it up and go talk to her about whatever the hell just to smooth out all the weirdness between us, when Eva taps my shoulder. I turn to find her grinning.
“What?” I ask.
“Come over here with me.” She tilts her head toward the stern.
“Over where?”
She keeps grinning and takes my hand, weaving me through the seats near the steering wheel, around the door to the cabin, and toward the stern of the boat.
“Um, no,” I say, digging in my heels.
“You don’t even know what we’re doing.”
“Oh, yes, I do. You’re about to sit on the back of the boat and probably dangle your feet over the edge, which is pretty much just asking for a shark or a humpback to come bite them off.”
“A humpback?”
“Yes, Eva, a damn humpback.”
She presses her lips flat, clearly trapping in a laugh. “You’re a strange little bird.”
“A little bird with all of my toes still attached.”
“Birds don’t have toes.”
“Talons, then.” I curl the fingers of both of my hands into claws, but she just laughs. Then she takes one of my hands and wraps it around her own back, pulling us closer together.
“I’m not afraid of your talons,” she says softly.
Her eyes flick down to my lips and my mouth goes dry. The cool wind blows her hair into my face and mine into hers. We’re all mixed up, and just when I think we’re finally going to kiss again, she pulls back.
“Come on.” She releases my hand and climbs up on padded seats that line the stern. Then, just as I knew she would, she throws her legs over them, settling on the couple feet of flat space covered with some non-stick faux-wood coating right above the propeller. A little silver ladder descends into the choppy blue abyss.
She glances at me hovering behind her and pats the spot next to her. “Here we go, little bird.”
I don’t fight her. Hell, as much as I hate the water, I don’t even want to. She’s been pretty quiet since we set sail, and there’s no way I’m passing up some time alone with her, especially in the light of day. Once I’m next to her, I curl my feet underneath me and get as far away from the edge as possible. The water is choppy, and a spray of cold ocean flecks our legs.
“See?” she says. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“Tell me that when I’m curled into a fetal position and sucking my thumb because I spotted a fin a hundred yards away.”
She laughs. “Come on, you can’t say this isn’t nice.” She lifts her arms to the sky and throws her head back, the sun glinting off her skin and hair.
Well, that’s nice.
“It’s just so . . . endless, you know?” I say, peering over the side of the boat at the inky water. “Who knows what’s going on down there?” I shudder. “Freaks me out.”
She leans over the edge too. Then she links her arm with mine and sits back, pulling me with her. We settle against each other, skin to skin.
“Just pretend we’re on the lighthouse, the endless sky above us,” she says. “Same sort of thing, right?”
“There aren’t live and curious creatures with teeth floating in the sky.”
“There might be in fantasy novels.”
I laugh. “So I should pretend we’re in a fantasy novel?”
She shrugs. “A fantasy of sorts.”
