FLY

Maggie

THE MORNING WAS BRIGHT AND golden, and my heart was full of promise and nerves as I walked down the dock with my duffle bag on my shoulder.

Fourth dock down, second slip on the left, the gate attendant had told me, and I counted them. I spotted Midnight Caller as she bobbed in the water, and a small but very loud part of my brain made its final plea to talk me out of the whole thing. I could walk away. It was the last chance.

But I took a breath and kept going, ready to leave life behind for a moment. Ready for what the weekend held in store.

The ship was a deep navy, the wooden deck stretching around the cabin to the bow. My eyes followed the ropes up the mast, and butterflies took off in my stomach, imagining what it would look like when the sails were raised. I stopped when I reached the boat, scanning the deck for Cooper. I found him kneeling in the cockpit — white shorts and deck shoes, navy sweater with white stripes, sleeves pushed up his forearms. My eyes lingered on his hands as he ran a rope through his fingers, that that little voice that had been so loud a moment before shut up mid-sentence.

I shifted and hung a hand on my hip, smiling. “Well, hello there, sailor.”

He looked up, and that crooked smile of his lit up his face as he stood and extended a hand. I took it to steady myself as I stepped into the boat, and he pulled me into him the second my feet hit the deck.

“Morning,” he said, his lips inches from mine.

“Morning,” I breathed.

“Are you ready for this?”

Anxiety blew through my chest, flipping my heart around. “I think so.”

He gave me a kiss and took my bag. “Then let me show you around so we can get going.”

My cheeks flushed, and I looked over the deck again. “This is so amazing, Cooper.”

“Glad you approve.” He took my hand, and we stepped into the space where the wheel and benches were. “This is the cockpit, where we’ll be most of the day. Come on down and I’ll show you the cabin.”

We climbed below deck, and I glanced around, taking everything in. The space was all dark wood, granite counters, dark leather seats. Art hung on the walls, and the table was littered with sea charts and compasses. It looked comfortable, livable, rich.

Cooper waved a hand across the room, smiling. “Welcome aboard.”

I shook my head, amazed. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. You could actually live on this boat.”

He smiled and walked through the main room. “So this is the galley,” he said as he gestured to the fancy, stainless steel kitchen, “and back here are the extra bedrooms.” I followed him down a narrow hallway, and he opened another door. “Here’s the head, and back here is the master bedroom.”

The room was almost entirely bed, but there were nightstands and lamps, a small walk-in closet, and a standing shower with sleek tile and a glass door. He set my bag down on the bed.

“Are we sleeping here tonight?” I asked hopefully.

“No, we’ll stay at the Hampton house tonight.”

My face fell, and he chuckled.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be much more comfortable there.”

I was still looking around in awe. “How do you not just sail away in this?”

“Well, I can’t sail her overnight without at least one other person. You can’t go on autopilot for any long period of time, definitely not long enough to sleep.”

My eyes widened a little. “Am I going to be enough help for you? I’ve never sailed before.”

He grabbed my hand, and I followed him out. “You’ll be plenty of help, if you’re interested. And if not, I can sail her by myself.” He smiled at me over his shoulder.

“How often do you take her out?” I asked as we entered the main room again.

He stopped next to the table and laid his hands on the surface. “A lot more in the summer when everyone is free. I have crew on staff too, for when I want to go on longer trips.” I followed the line of his body — his strong shoulders, the curves of the muscles in his arms and forearms. A book was open in front of him, a map with complex sets of lines, numbers, and markings that I didn’t understand. “These are sea charts, like a key map for the ocean.”

I took a seat and pored over them. “They’re really beautiful. But I have no idea what any of this means. What’s this big compass?”

“That’s the magnetic field for the area.”

“Why on earth would you need to know the magnetic fields?”

“Because the compass doesn’t always point true north. These charts help you navigate the local waters if you’re using a magnetic compass.”

I folded my arms on the table. “How do you know where you’re supposed to be?”

He dragged his finger along the map, stopping at points. “These numbers mark the water depth, and these lines mark the channels. Getting out of the harbor is the hardest part — a lot of traffic and rules to keep everything in order. But once we’re out, we can pretty much go wherever we want.”

I looked over the maps. “This is a little overwhelming.”

He smirked. “That’s why we’re using GPS.”

I laughed. “Wow, Coop. Did you just put all this here for show?”

“Maybe.”

I propped my chin in my hand and smiled up at him. “You’re something else, you know that?”

He stacked up the charts and compasses, taking them around the corner to back them in the small desk built into the wall. “I thought you’d find it interesting. I’m here to show you a good time, which would be complicated by sea charts and math.”

“Yuck. Nobody wants to do math on a Saturday.”

“My point exactly.” He smiled. “The bar, pantry, and fridge are stocked, so help yourself. You ready to go?”

I nodded and slipped out of the bench as he picked up the CB to get clearance from the harbor master, listening to his easy confidence, wondering how many times he’d sailed. He hung up the receiver when he’d gotten word, and we climbed back out into the cockpit.

“Give me just a minute. Make yourself comfortable.” He smiled as he turned the key and pressed the ignition, and the motor came alive with a rumble.

I took a seat as he jumped onto the deck and made his way around the boat with purpose, casting off all the boat lines except the ones in the front and back. He pulled in the bumpers and stowed them before casting off the line in the back, then hopped back on the boat and let the final rope loose, rolling it up and putting it away as he did the others. I watched, fascinated.

I’d found something that Cooper was very serious about.

He gave me a smile, slipping on his sunglasses as he stood behind the wheel and pulled out of the slip, then out of the marina. He turned on music, and I stretched out on the bench, taking it all in. The city passed by us as he navigated through the harbor, past cruise ships and big party yachts, tug boats and towering shipping boats stacked with cargo crates, talking all the while.

“How do you know where to go?” I asked, curious.

“See those buoys? We want to keep the green ones on our starboard — right side — when we’re heading out, just like on the road. When you’re coming in, you keep the red ones on your starboard.”

“How often do you sail?”

I watched the wind ruffle his dark hair. “Whenever I can. A couple of times a month, at least. Even in the winter.”

“Did you have to take classes to learn? Or…”

He smiled at me before looking back to the water. “I’ve been sailing since I was a kid, first with my dad and then sailing school. I was on a team in high school and college, too. There’s just something infinitely satisfying about earning the freedom of the wind in my hair with burning muscles and salt on my lips. It’s addictive.”

“You really love it, don’t you?”