Nate grabbed her arm and climbed into the boat. “I’m not sure that’s the compliment you think it is.”
Ella smirked and dropped to her knees near the cockpit, digging around in a storage compartment. The dull glow of the dashboard caught the polished chrome trim and cream leather seats, the glossy dials, and digital readouts twinkling faintly in the low light.
“Do I want to know what you’re doing?” Nate asked, stashing the backpack on the console.
“Nope!” she called brightly.
A second later she sprang up, brandishing a key. “Knew it!”
Nate blinked. “No way. They just leave it there?”
She twirled the key between her fingers. “Money makes people lazy. And seriously, who’d be dumb enough to swipe a toy like this?”
“You mean borrow?”
“Right. That.”
Nate couldn’t help it. He laughed.
“And yet, you’re here.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Admit it. You like me.”
“I like that you’re a weirdo.” He plucked the key from her fingers.
“Oh,” she said, her grin widening, “so you’re driving?”
“Uh-huh.” He eased into the pilot’s chair and slipped the key into the ignition. “You’ve done enough. My turn.”
“You know that makes you complicit, right?”
Nate rolled his eyes as he turned the key. “Yeah, yeah.”
“And you’re sure you can operate this thing?”
He shot her a look. “Used to fish out on Lake St. Clair back in Detroit. I’ve handled boats plenty.” He left out the part where some of the boats had a camera crew.
Ella leaned over the side to untie the rope mooring the boat to the dock. “Well, Captain,” she said, giving the rope a final tug before it slithered into the water, “let’s see what you’ve got.”
Nate eased the throttle forward, and the boat slid into the lake, the hull cutting smoothly through the water. The wake spread wide behind them, silver and flickering in the moonlight. Ella’s hair whipped around her face, catching the breeze like a banner.
Eventually, the nearest shoreline lights blinked small in the distance, pinpricks against the darkness. Nate killed the engine. The sudden silence arrived all at once. It wasn’t true silence: water tapped against the hull in irregular rhythms, but compared to the growl of the motor, it felt enormous. Like they’d slipped sideways out of time.
The boat swayed slightly as they drifted, the current taking them where it pleased. Ella let out a satisfied sigh. “Admit it,” she said, tipping her face up to the night sky. “This was a brilliant, terrible idea.”
Nate shook his head. “I’d say ninety percent terrible. Ten percent? I might live to see tomorrow.”
“Ah, so still technically brilliant,” she countered, poking the backpack. “Go on, open it.”
Nate lifted the zipper. Inside, nestled like contraband, was a bottle of champagne wrapped in a T-shirt. Two slim flutes lay tucked beside it, protected in socks.
He blinked up at her. “You packed glassware?”
“I have some standards,” she said primly.
Nate wedged the bottle between his knees, twisted the wire cage loose, and eased the cork out with a pop. The sound cracked across the water. Both of them froze on instinct, listening.
Nothing but water lapping against fiberglass.
“See?” Ella said. “The universe approves.”
