Cherish Hard
Page 52
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Ísa tried desperately to reassure herself that this plan wasn’t destined for disaster.
If the kayak flipped, she and Sailor just had to float until someone got to them. And if a fish or three nibbled on her toes, well, apparently that was considered a pedicure in some places. She’d seen it online. So she’d get a free fish-nibble pedicure. Nothing to worry about.
We’re going to die. At least my last will and testament is up to date.
Sailor pushed the kayak forward, deeper into the water, then somehow managed to jump in without causing it to rock wildly before starting to paddle… and she realized she had absolutely no need to worry. He had total control of the kayak, his motions so fluid that she felt like she was on a smooth ride. She wished she could see him, see his biceps flexing, his golden skin gleaming under the sunlight.
They rode gracefully over an incoming wave.
“Shall I try?” she asked hesitantly, her hands tight on the kayak paddle she still held across her front. “I’ll probably mess up your rhythm.”
“Don’t worry so much, baby. This is about having fun,” he said, the affection in the words making her blink her eyes hard against a hot, wet burn. “But wait until I have us past the waves so it’ll be easier.”
That didn’t take him long.
Once they were in calmer waters, he stopped and taught her how to angle her paddle so it cut through the water rather than fighting it. It took her several tries, but she finally got some semblance of a good stroke.
A smile broke out over her face. “This is fun.” No one had ever been so patient with her when she was trying to learn to do something athletic.
“I don’t like to say I told you so, but…”
She laughed at Sailor’s smug tone and carried on. She did have to take frequent breaks as the trip was a three-hour one for someone as strong and experienced as Sailor. With him slowing down so she could paddle too, plus a water and snack break in the middle, it was well past the three-and-a-half-hour mark by the time they hit the choppier waters near the island.
* * *
CONTENT IN A WAY HE hadn’t been in a long time, his demons unable to fight the happiness in his veins, Sailor watched Ísa dig in her paddle ahead of him. She was off-rhythm but determined and probably had a burned nose by now, though she’d slathered on more sunscreen midway through their journey.
If he’d been facing her, he’d have kissed her silly.
She’d probably have pushed him back with a stern warning about face-eating fish.
Grinning, he said, “Time for you to rest, spitfire. I need to take over now to get us past the more tricky sections.”
“Okay,” Ísa said and carefully put her paddle in front of her so it wouldn’t be in his way.
Sailor dug in, powering them toward the beach at Motutapu where he intended for them to land. He saw a couple of yachts moored nearby, but there was no one else on the beach itself. It was a hard one to get to if you weren’t coming by your own watercraft.
“Are you bionic?”
Ísa’s question had him laughing. “Pure Kiwi male,” he said, but his chest puffed up a little at her admiring tone. “You want to paddle some more? It’s a straight shot to the beach now.”
Nodding, Ísa picked up her oar.
He matched his rhythm to her gentle one, enjoying himself in a way he would’ve never expected at such a lazy pace. Usually when he kayaked, it was all about the burn in his muscles, his speed punishing in an effort to drown out the demons. “Stay in the kayak,” he told Ísa when they got close to landing.
Jumping out into the water himself, he pushed the kayak onto the sand with her in it. She laughed in delight, and his heart, it flip-flopped in a way it had never done in his twenty-three years of life.
Yeah, she was it for him.
Didn’t matter how many years he’d had on this earth.
He knew.
Extending a hand, he helped her out onto the soft sand. “Now,” he said, “we relax.”
First, however, they put their lifejackets in the kayak, then hauled the kayak up the beach to park it under the shade of a large phutukawa tree. Taking out Ísa’s tote, he placed it on the sand. Next, he retrieved his duffel bag and pulled out a small waterproof sheet he’d brought along.
He placed the sandwiches he’d prepared onto the makeshift mat, bottles of orange juice beside them, then added apples and oranges plus fudge squares for dessert. “Jake,” he said in explanation. “He’s working part-time at a restaurant over the summer and keeps coming home with ideas he wants to try.”
Ísa picked up a piece of the rich sweet and bit in. “Oh, this is divine.” A throaty sound that made his cock want to rise to attention.
“Hey, eat your lunch before dessert,” he growled at her. “But first…” He took out a lumpy cupcake with orange icing that looked even worse than it had in the early-morning light. “I tried to bake you a birthday cupcake. You don’t have to eat it. But we can still blow out a candle.”
Hands flying to her mouth, Ísa looked at him with wet eyes.
“Hey. It’s not that bad,” Sailor protested. “It kind of even looks cupcake-shaped if you squint really hard.”
Laughing and crying at the same time, Ísa grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him all over. “You’re wonderful, Sailor Bishop. And I’ll eat your cake.”
He felt like a well-petted cat. “No, seriously. I think I mixed up the salt with the sugar. And possibly the baking powder with the baking soda.”
Her shoulders shook. “Light the candle,” she ordered, all but bouncing on her knees.
Placing the cupcake between them, he poked a thin pink candle into the orange icing, then used a lighter to set it aflame, his other hand cupped around it to protect it from the faint sea breeze. “Make a wish, Ísalind.”
Face aglow, Ísa squeezed her eyes shut for three long seconds. “Okay, I’m ready to blow out the candle.”
“Not before the birthday song.” He launched into it with gusto, Ísa listening with her hands fisted and crossed over her heart, as if he’d given her diamonds instead of a mutant cupcake.
After blowing out the candle in one puff once the song was over, she took a careful bite. He waited for her to spit it back out, but she actually swallowed, then took a second bite. “Try it,” she said around the mouthful. “It’s pretty good.”
Sailor figured she was pulling his leg, but it was her birthday after all. He took a bite. And felt his eyes widen. “I’m a culinary genius.” Actually, the cake was chewy and dense, but there was no salt instead of sugar, which, in his book made this a win.
But even better was seeing Ísa smile with open happiness.
Inside his heart, he cupped his hands, trying to hold the delicate mist of her. And those hands, they were callused and marked with nicks and cuts from his work. Work that had consumed him since he was a fifteen-year-old haunted by the knowledge that within him lay the capacity for betrayal, for disloyalty, for cowardice.
30
Sailor’s Mighty Horn
TEN MINUTES LATER AND SAILOR had banished his dark thoughts into the dungeon where he usually kept them. Today was for him and Ísa and happiness. Shadows not invited.
When Ísa took out her phone to glance at it, he managed to keep a straight face. Until twenty minutes afterward when she said, “Catie usually messages me a few times a day. I wonder if she’s okay.”
If the kayak flipped, she and Sailor just had to float until someone got to them. And if a fish or three nibbled on her toes, well, apparently that was considered a pedicure in some places. She’d seen it online. So she’d get a free fish-nibble pedicure. Nothing to worry about.
We’re going to die. At least my last will and testament is up to date.
Sailor pushed the kayak forward, deeper into the water, then somehow managed to jump in without causing it to rock wildly before starting to paddle… and she realized she had absolutely no need to worry. He had total control of the kayak, his motions so fluid that she felt like she was on a smooth ride. She wished she could see him, see his biceps flexing, his golden skin gleaming under the sunlight.
They rode gracefully over an incoming wave.
“Shall I try?” she asked hesitantly, her hands tight on the kayak paddle she still held across her front. “I’ll probably mess up your rhythm.”
“Don’t worry so much, baby. This is about having fun,” he said, the affection in the words making her blink her eyes hard against a hot, wet burn. “But wait until I have us past the waves so it’ll be easier.”
That didn’t take him long.
Once they were in calmer waters, he stopped and taught her how to angle her paddle so it cut through the water rather than fighting it. It took her several tries, but she finally got some semblance of a good stroke.
A smile broke out over her face. “This is fun.” No one had ever been so patient with her when she was trying to learn to do something athletic.
“I don’t like to say I told you so, but…”
She laughed at Sailor’s smug tone and carried on. She did have to take frequent breaks as the trip was a three-hour one for someone as strong and experienced as Sailor. With him slowing down so she could paddle too, plus a water and snack break in the middle, it was well past the three-and-a-half-hour mark by the time they hit the choppier waters near the island.
* * *
CONTENT IN A WAY HE hadn’t been in a long time, his demons unable to fight the happiness in his veins, Sailor watched Ísa dig in her paddle ahead of him. She was off-rhythm but determined and probably had a burned nose by now, though she’d slathered on more sunscreen midway through their journey.
If he’d been facing her, he’d have kissed her silly.
She’d probably have pushed him back with a stern warning about face-eating fish.
Grinning, he said, “Time for you to rest, spitfire. I need to take over now to get us past the more tricky sections.”
“Okay,” Ísa said and carefully put her paddle in front of her so it wouldn’t be in his way.
Sailor dug in, powering them toward the beach at Motutapu where he intended for them to land. He saw a couple of yachts moored nearby, but there was no one else on the beach itself. It was a hard one to get to if you weren’t coming by your own watercraft.
“Are you bionic?”
Ísa’s question had him laughing. “Pure Kiwi male,” he said, but his chest puffed up a little at her admiring tone. “You want to paddle some more? It’s a straight shot to the beach now.”
Nodding, Ísa picked up her oar.
He matched his rhythm to her gentle one, enjoying himself in a way he would’ve never expected at such a lazy pace. Usually when he kayaked, it was all about the burn in his muscles, his speed punishing in an effort to drown out the demons. “Stay in the kayak,” he told Ísa when they got close to landing.
Jumping out into the water himself, he pushed the kayak onto the sand with her in it. She laughed in delight, and his heart, it flip-flopped in a way it had never done in his twenty-three years of life.
Yeah, she was it for him.
Didn’t matter how many years he’d had on this earth.
He knew.
Extending a hand, he helped her out onto the soft sand. “Now,” he said, “we relax.”
First, however, they put their lifejackets in the kayak, then hauled the kayak up the beach to park it under the shade of a large phutukawa tree. Taking out Ísa’s tote, he placed it on the sand. Next, he retrieved his duffel bag and pulled out a small waterproof sheet he’d brought along.
He placed the sandwiches he’d prepared onto the makeshift mat, bottles of orange juice beside them, then added apples and oranges plus fudge squares for dessert. “Jake,” he said in explanation. “He’s working part-time at a restaurant over the summer and keeps coming home with ideas he wants to try.”
Ísa picked up a piece of the rich sweet and bit in. “Oh, this is divine.” A throaty sound that made his cock want to rise to attention.
“Hey, eat your lunch before dessert,” he growled at her. “But first…” He took out a lumpy cupcake with orange icing that looked even worse than it had in the early-morning light. “I tried to bake you a birthday cupcake. You don’t have to eat it. But we can still blow out a candle.”
Hands flying to her mouth, Ísa looked at him with wet eyes.
“Hey. It’s not that bad,” Sailor protested. “It kind of even looks cupcake-shaped if you squint really hard.”
Laughing and crying at the same time, Ísa grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him all over. “You’re wonderful, Sailor Bishop. And I’ll eat your cake.”
He felt like a well-petted cat. “No, seriously. I think I mixed up the salt with the sugar. And possibly the baking powder with the baking soda.”
Her shoulders shook. “Light the candle,” she ordered, all but bouncing on her knees.
Placing the cupcake between them, he poked a thin pink candle into the orange icing, then used a lighter to set it aflame, his other hand cupped around it to protect it from the faint sea breeze. “Make a wish, Ísalind.”
Face aglow, Ísa squeezed her eyes shut for three long seconds. “Okay, I’m ready to blow out the candle.”
“Not before the birthday song.” He launched into it with gusto, Ísa listening with her hands fisted and crossed over her heart, as if he’d given her diamonds instead of a mutant cupcake.
After blowing out the candle in one puff once the song was over, she took a careful bite. He waited for her to spit it back out, but she actually swallowed, then took a second bite. “Try it,” she said around the mouthful. “It’s pretty good.”
Sailor figured she was pulling his leg, but it was her birthday after all. He took a bite. And felt his eyes widen. “I’m a culinary genius.” Actually, the cake was chewy and dense, but there was no salt instead of sugar, which, in his book made this a win.
But even better was seeing Ísa smile with open happiness.
Inside his heart, he cupped his hands, trying to hold the delicate mist of her. And those hands, they were callused and marked with nicks and cuts from his work. Work that had consumed him since he was a fifteen-year-old haunted by the knowledge that within him lay the capacity for betrayal, for disloyalty, for cowardice.
30
Sailor’s Mighty Horn
TEN MINUTES LATER AND SAILOR had banished his dark thoughts into the dungeon where he usually kept them. Today was for him and Ísa and happiness. Shadows not invited.
When Ísa took out her phone to glance at it, he managed to keep a straight face. Until twenty minutes afterward when she said, “Catie usually messages me a few times a day. I wonder if she’s okay.”
