Going Under (Wildfire Lake Book 2)

by Skye Jordan

  She laughs. “I agree, which is why I started looking at cats.”

  “Cats?”

  “Catamarans.”

  I know even less about catamarans than I do about sailboats, and I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.

  She flips through pages, finds a catamaran the same age as the sailboat she gazed dreamily at, and pulls up the listing.

  “Shit, it’s even more expensive,” I say.

  “Only by forty or fifty grand.”

  “Are you secretly filthy rich?” I only half tease.

  “It’s going to be my house,” she says. “My only major expense.”

  Okay, that’s fair. “True. Why is this more?”

  “It’s a lot bigger, inside and out.” She flips through the pictures. “Four separate bedrooms in two separate hulls for lots of privacy, and big windows letting in lots of light. Two full heads—bathrooms—with standing showers. A real living room surrounded by windows, so you have views inside and outside the boat, bigger kitchen and dining table, storage spaces tucked in everywhere.”

  There are people in these photos, so I get a better idea of scale, and I breathe easier. Small, sure, but not impossible.

  “And a huge deck all around the boat, fore and aft. Big swim deck off the back, lots of covered or uncovered lounge seating and drop-away tables, and tons of storage for gear and tools.”

  “I like this,” I say.

  “I thought you would.”

  “Why would you choose the sailboat you showed me over the catamaran?”

  “It’s less expensive and this is more room than I need for myself, but that’s not the main reason. A catamaran is a smoother, more stable ride. I love the feel of a boat heeling in the wind.” She taps through some images on Google and brings up one where a sailboat is tipped so far over, the sail is almost parallel with the sea. And she’s grinning from ear to ear. “There is nothing like the rush of a good wind to feel the power of Mother Nature. Someday, I’d love to take you out in a single hull and show you.” Her excitement quiets, and she gives me a one-shouldered shrug. “But I’ll let you get used to basic sailing first.”

  “Kind of you,” I tease.

  There’s no doubt my heart is beating faster. My skin is tingling. Just the thought of this possibility has opened my view of the future from thirty degrees to two hundred and seventy degrees. That shift in vision makes me realize how every one of my past choices has tightened the scope of my life another ten degrees, until all I can see in front of me is a narrow view showing me only one path—the traditional path I have to take to get three little girls into adulthood without a mother. After that, coaching them through college. Then navigating husbands and grandkids and retirement.

  Kat’s view shows me freedom and excitement and lifelong learning and travel. Just by Kat being Kat, she’s shown me things I’ve never even considered possible, let alone dreamt of.

  Now I wonder if including me and the kids is limiting everything she’s always wanted. “What about your dream sailboat? Wouldn’t you be missing out on that thrill?”

  She rolls up on her side and smiles at me. “In reality, cats are actually faster than sailboats, so there will be plenty of thrills. As for the excitement I’ll lose from heeling, you and the girls will make up for it tenfold.”

  My heart skips. It skips so often, I consider she’s given me an arrhythmia. “Maybe I can cover the extra cost.”

  “No way. You’re going to be shelling out for four air fares every time you travel. I’ve got it.”

  I realize I’ve never had a woman in my life who could not only stand on her own financially, but could shoulder even more, all for the opportunity to spend more time with me and the girls. And I have an idea of how big a change this is for her too, being willing to alter the biggest purchase of her life to suit us after we’ve known each other such a short time. She gives me the feeling that she’s invested in not just me, but all of us.

  I lean in and kiss her. “How did I get lucky enough to cross your path?”

  She grins. “I’m feeling just as lucky.”

  17

  KT

  “Grab the micro vacuum from the shop,” I tell Violet. “You can clean out this compartment, then use the Grease Monkey Wipes to make it shine.”

  She bounces from her knees to her feet like I told her there was a piñata spilling candy in the shop. “Okay.”

  Violet runs past Chloe as she approaches. “Hi, Chloe.”

  Chloe ruffles her hair for a split second before Violet’s gone. “That kid’s got enthusiasm to spare.”

  I stand, smiling. “She sure does.”

  “Did you tell her about the sailing lessons yet?” Chloe asks.

  I shake my head. “Ben’s been so tired when he gets home. I’ll let him tell her when he’s ready.”

  “Why has he been working so much?” Chloe asks. “You’ve had the kids four out of the last five days.”

  And the only reason I didn’t have them today is because he finally got a new, older, more responsible nanny who started today.

  “Staffing problems, but he’ll have several days off in a row soon.”

  “Is this your night off, then?” Chloe says. “We should go out.”

  I nod, even though I’m going to miss having Poppy and Violet try to teach me how to cook, always an entertaining experience. I wish I could spend the night with Ben, because even though I’ve seen him and had dinner with him, we’ve barely been able to steal a few kisses with the girls underfoot. A couple of days ago, I went over after the girls had gone to bed for a little private time with Ben, only to find he’d passed out on the sofa.

  “That sounds nice,” I say. “Is Laiyla free?”

  “Pffft, she lives with Levi now. She should be able to spare us an evening.”

  My cell rings, and I’m hoping it’s Ben, but I don’t recognize the number, which isn’t uncommon.

  “I’ll catch Laiyla and text you,” Chloe says.

  “Perfect.” I answer my phone as Violet comes back out and Chloe moves down the dock. “Hello?”

  A string of foreign language fills the line. It’s a man, and I catch just enough of the language to realize it’s Puerto Rican Spanish, but that doesn’t tell me who it is.

  “Whoa,” I say with a laugh, wandering away from Violet so the sound of the vacuum doesn’t interfere with the call. “Slow down there, buddy. My Puerto Rican is rusty.”

  “¡Chacho!” he says. That one, I remember. Oh, boy. “It’s Jaime, mami. I should be offended you don’t recognize my voice.”

  I laugh. Jaime is an old friend, a crew bum who’s sailed around the world multiple times captaining ships of all kinds, usually for billionaires. His father is a shipping magnate. Jaime was born on the water and swears he’ll die on the water. He tells stories of captaining sailboats from the age of five, which I’m well aware is an exaggeration, but I’d bet not too much of one.

  “¡Ay bendito, acho!” I say, wondering what brain crevice that little Puerto Rican Spanish came from. “I haven’t talked to you in forever. How are you?”

  “I’m amazing.” His self-confidence is still fifty miles high.

  “Of course, you are. Where are you?”

  “The closest I’ve been to you since that night in Croatia.” His voice turns into a deep purr, one that has charmed the panties off any woman he ever wanted anywhere in the world—including me. Though that was a lifetime ago. “Santa Barbara.”

  His accent is less Boricua than it used to be, now carrying various flavors from all the countries where he’s spent time. “What in the hell are you doing somewhere as beige as Santa Barbara?”

  “No shit.”

  I lean against the side of the shop. “Can’t wait to hear this story.”

  “I was contracted to captain this ship from Santa Barbara to Hawaii. A tenth wedding anniversary trip as a gift for this woman’s husband.”

  “Esh.” I wince. “Please don’t tell me you—”

  “Mami,”
he says with faux hurt. “You automatically think the worst of me.”

  “Okay, okay.” I roll my eyes. “Go on.”

  “We were just about to leave, ship is loaded, crew’s on board, and she discovers he’s having an affair. And, before you ask—no, not with me.”

  That makes me laugh.

  “I’m wondering what I should do with the next few months, so I call around to see who’s where and who’s doing what. Whose name pops up in conversation? Yours.”

  Despite being scattered all over the world, the boating community is smaller than one might think. Those with the most experience keep the closest contact with each other, via acquaintances, networking, gigs, social media. Jaime and I are in that upper echelon—him for his sailing ability, me for my mechanical ability.

  “I say, no way,” he goes on. “Rivers would never choose land over sea. As much as I love the idea of seeing you again, it would be physically painful for me to know you’ve defected.”

  “Still so melodramatic.”

  “Is it true?”

  “Not exactly.” I give him the highlights of my situation and mention I’m looking to buy a catamaran so he can spread the word.

  “So you’ll return to the sea,” he says. “I don’t think I could have handled any other answer. Where are you headed on your first freedom ride?”

  “Not clear yet, but I have time to figure it out. I won’t be cut loose from here until summer. What about you?”

  “I’ve picked up some piecework here. These people have money to burn.”

  “Says the kid with the billion-dollar trust fund.”

  “And the women are pretty damned hot too. You know how I love being pampered.”

  “Playing gigolo for a while?”

  “There are worse situations. When are you looking to pick up the cat? There are a few nice ones in this marina that never get used. It’s a crime.”

  I play with money in my head. Most of my liquid cash is invested in the marina, but I have a nice retirement fund I can borrow against and some savings. “For the right deal, I’d be ready anytime.”

  “Tell you what,” he says. “I’ll work my magic if you agree to come see me this weekend. You can check out the merchandise, we can reconnect, and you can keep me in mind to join you on your maiden voyage. By July, I’ll pay you to take me away from all this beige.”

  I’m laughing when Ben pulls up to the marina. I say goodbye to Jaime and meet Ben near Violet’s workspace. My smile fades by the time we’re face-to-face. His eyes are dull, his expression exhausted.

  Violet barely spares him a glance. “Hi, Daddy. I’m working. I’m not done yet.”

  I want to wrap him in my arms, but we’re still keeping things between us on the down-low. The girls are already dealing with a lot of changes.

  “Rough day?”

  He tries to smile, but it only lasts a second. “Rough day.”

  “How was the nanny’s first day?”

  “Fine,” he says, “but I’m withholding final judgment after what’s been happening with these little troublemakers.” He tips his head toward my shop. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  My belly flutters with uncharacteristic nerves. “Of course.”

  “Be right back,” Ben tells Violet. “Finish up so we can head home.”

  “Okay.”

  I lead the way into the shop, concerned over Ben’s state of mind. Before I can turn to face him, he wraps his arms around me from behind and drags me up against his body. When he uses his foot to ease the door closed, his face is already pressed against my neck.

  Joy and desire swim through my veins. I wrap my hand back and around his neck, slide my fingers into his hair, and lift his head enough to get my mouth on his. He sinks in with a moan and kisses me like I’m his salvation. His hips rock against me, his arms hold me tight, and he tastes me in a way that lightens my head.

  He finally breaks the kiss and drops his forehead to my shoulder. “Fuck, I miss you.”

  The confession touches my heart like a whisper. “I’ve seen you every day for almost a week.”

  He lifts his head, expression serious, gaze still a little hollow. “I want to talk to you in bed, fall asleep with you, wake up with you.”

  Then he sighs and strokes my hair, his gaze distant. I see his desires as those of a man who wants to be married. There may be talking in bed together in our future, but in a few months, it will be by phone or video. There will be very little falling asleep or waking up together. The first shadow of guilt darkens my heart, and I wonder if he would be happy with the arrangement we’ve talked about or hollowed by it. I also wonder if I’ll be limiting him, keeping him from a woman who could love him the way he wants. But he’s been alone for three years, something that had nothing to do with me.

  I remind myself he’s a big boy and he can make his own choices.

  “What happened today?” I ask.

  He shakes his head once. His eyes close, and he leans his forehead against my temple. “Lost two patients.”

  His pain is palpable, and I turn in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

  “There wasn’t anything I could do.” He meets my gaze again, and I wonder if death is something someone as compassionate as Ben could ever get used to. “Just reminds me how short life is. I want to tell the girls about us so we can spend more time together. Real time, not pretending time.”

  This feels like an abrupt change in the direction we’ve been headed.

  “And I want to tell my family,” he goes on. “Because I want to ask my sister to watch the kids for a weekend so you and I can go away. Have it be just the two of us for a change.”

  “Ben, what’s going on?”

  “I’ve seen you every day for almost a week, and I love it. I love coming home to the house with all of you laughing, I love how animated the girls are when you’re around. I just fucking love the light you bring into our lives, and I really want more of it. Opening up to everyone will give us more time to be together and less to worry about.”

  I tip my head, considering. This feels like a need for Ben, not a want, and that scares me a little. Thrills me a little too. My father was the last person who ever needed me. And this longing that’s cropped up might be trying to tell me I need Ben too.

  “I just heard from a friend,” I tell him. “Someone in my circle of sailing acquaintances. He’s in Santa Barbara and says he may have a lead on a cat for us. Said he was going to ask around to see if there are any for sale. What do you think about taking the girls to Santa Barbara to look at boats? We can tell Violet about the sailing lessons.” I shrug. “Then we can decide if it’s a good time to tell them about us. And if that goes well, we can move on to your family. Then we can talk about a weekend away.”

  Which will give me some time to get used to the idea, because right now, it’s a little hard to breathe. This may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but this is the furthest down this relationship road I’ve ever been, and I can’t lie, it’s a little on the terrifying side.

  I watch his attention shift from the tight, intense focus on me, to a wider, softer focus of the trip and the girls. He smiles, nods, kisses me. “Great idea.”

  My lungs release. I can breathe easy again.

  18

  Ben

  “True or false,” I say, glancing at my three girls in the rearview mirror. “A baby has more bones than an adult.”

  Kat, sitting in the passenger’s seat frowns, then turns to look at the girls. They seem to all agree with a glance and chorus, “False.”

  “True,” I tell them, enjoying their surprise. “Adults like Kat and me have two hundred and six bones, but a newborn baby has nearly three hundred bones.”

  “What happens to the extras?” Poppy asks, her tone scandalized.

  “Babies have more cartilage, which is softer than bone, and as they grow, some of the cartilage hardens into bones. And some bones fuse together to become one.”

  Jazz declares this news gross with a
n emphatic “Ew.”

  Kat laughs. “I don’t think that one will be following in your footsteps. My turn.”

  She thinks a minute, and the girls wait patiently. They like Kat’s questions better than mine, and I have to hand it to her, she comes up with some doozies.

  I glance at the GPS on the dash and take the last right, leading to the Santa Barbara marina’s entrance. The day is moody, with puffy clouds and a stiff wind, but the temperature is mild, and the sight of the sea is relaxing, reminding me that it would be good for all of us to get out together more.

  But there’s a kernel of unease in the pit of my stomach. What if I see the catamaran and hate it? What if the girls are scared of sailing?

  The idea of flying the girls all over the world for whirlwind sailing trips with Kat seemed like a dreamy idea when we first thought it up, but I’ve discovered some real problems with it over the past week or so. Not with the plan, per se, but with how I feel about the plan. This last week has definitely given me a glimpse of what life could be like with Kat. Which is a double-edged sword, because now that I’ve seen the light she adds to our family, the thought of living without her eight months out of the year, or more, really throws a shadow over my enthusiasm.

  I also don’t know what to expect of this friend of Kat’s we’re meeting, but I’m hoping he’s a salty old sea dog. His name is Jaime, the J pronounced as an H, which tells me nothing other than he’s Hispanic. I didn’t want to ask too many questions, because I’m still trying to get a handle on my insecurities where Kat’s past is concerned. Best to wait until I have a solid, mature outlook on the situation before I ask the questions.

  “True or false,” Kat says. “A shark has no eyelids.”

  “What?” Jazz, always the most expressive, gives Kat innocent attitude. “That’s creepy.”

  “True,” Violet says.

  “False,” Poppy says, turning to Violet. “I think I saw it happen on one of those nature shows.”