Going Under (Wildfire Lake Book 2)

by Skye Jordan

  My eyes go wide. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Uh-huh.” His smile is bright.

  “What did you think?”

  “I wish you could have been there. It was…” He shakes his head. “Exhilarating, thrilling, fun as hell.”

  Now I can’t stop smiling. “What about the girls? What did they think?”

  “They didn’t want to get off. They’ve begged me to buy it every day since we came home.”

  I laugh. “I wonder if they know just how much they run our lives, not the other way around.”

  “Violet’s picking up on it. God help us when the others do too.”

  Us. God help us.

  It’s the sweetest word I’ve heard in forever. “I’m so happy they loved it.”

  “And then,” he says, drawing out the words, “I did something else.”

  I pull in a sharp breath and tent my hands over my mouth. “You didn’t buy it.”

  “Not…exactly.”

  “Not exactly? You either did or you didn’t.”

  “I found one that was perfect and made an offer.” He pulls a piece of paper from the pocket of his hoodie and flattens it on the bar. “It’s just an offer. I knew I had to talk to you about everything before I went through with it.”

  My stomach is flipping like a fish as I look over the contract. “This isn’t just perfect, Ben, it’s new. Brand-fucking-new.” I cut a look at him. “Do you know how insanely cool these new ones are? The entire top level—”

  “Slides down,” he says, “fitting inside the lower level until the roof and the deck are flush, effectively making it bulletproof when you’re away. Yeah, I know.”

  I’m having a hard time breathing as I turn the pages looking over all the bells, whistles, and top-of-the-line features on this boat. Then my gaze falls on the final price, and I frown. I turn the paper over, then thumb through the pages again, looking for something I’ve missed. When I can’t find anything, I meet his gaze. “Where’s the catch? This is way underpriced, by like, a hundred grand. Is it missing an engine? What?”

  “No, it’s not missing the engine,” he says, laughing. “And it’s seventy-five grand less than sticker. You can thank Jaime for that. He said it was overpriced to begin with, so the savings isn’t as dramatic as it appears, but he pulled in one of many favors he is evidently owed by people in the industry.” He shrugs. “Of course, he did it for you, not me.”

  The fact that Ben went to Jaime for help after all the turmoil he had over our previous relationship really shows he’s gotten over that issue and that he’s willing to make changes to keep things right between us. But I’m still confused.

  “You know these are pretty expensive to dock locally,” I tell him. “It’s a big expense for something you’ll only use on weekends and holidays.” I stand and step into the V of his thighs. “I don’t need a boat to be happy here with you. I just need you.”

  “Violet seems to think you and I can both have what we want,” he says.

  “Then she’s not only imaginative, she’s delusional.”

  He wraps his arms around my waist and clasps his hands at my lower back. “Not if we all go on your planned trip together.”

  I tip my head, not sure I understand.

  “I know this idea puts an entirely different twist on your dream,” he says, “and I’m okay if you don’t want to do it this way. I mean, going from one person sailing around the world to doing it with a guy and three little girls is pretty damn crazy on the face of it, but there it is. If that’s something you’d like to try, the girls and I are all in.”

  “Whoa, hold on.” My head comes back. “Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

  “It’s all I’ve been able to think about, so yeah. I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before, and I don’t even fucking know how to sail, but we’re all willing to learn. More importantly, we all want to be with you. And I can’t think of a better way to do that than to live that dream together.”

  The idea of him being willing to give up everything he just moved here for is sweet but crazy. “You’re going to take your girls from a thirty-eight-hundred-square-foot house with a yard and a pool to a five-hundred-square-foot boat?”

  “Before we moved into that thirty-eight-hundred-square-foot house, we lived in an eight-hundred-square-foot shack quite happily. As soon as we moved here, I knew it was too much house. I bought it more for the view than the space anyway, but there’s no view that could match the one we’d get from the boat every day. And here”—he taps the contract—“the ocean is the biggest saltwater pool in existence, and the deck is a perfect yard. We wouldn’t be giving up anything but trappings.”

  I stare at him, take in the confident set of his shoulders, the quietly sober look on his face. A zing courses through me. “Oh my God. You’re serious.”

  “You bet your ass. I wouldn’t bring this up with you if I weren’t.”

  “What about their school? Hell, what about your work?”

  “Homeschooling is totally doable, especially with an entire world to learn about. As for work… I’m thinking about a sabbatical. I never took any time off before or after Jana died, and I think it would be good for both me and the kids to slow down and spend this quality time together. If I get antsy, I’m sure I’ll be able to pick up volunteer gigs along the way. There are always nonprofit organizations looking for volunteer physicians to do short stints. As for money, Violet also bluntly pointed out that we have savings we can use to live. Evidently, she’s really good at eavesdropping when I’m talking to my family. And selling the house will give us all the money we need for the foreseeable future.”

  I put my hands up in a stop motion. “Do you hear yourself? You’re talking about an entire life change. And not just for yourself, but for your daughters. And you and I have only known each other a couple of months. This plan sounds amazing to me, but that’s because I’ve been there, and I know what it’s like. This is totally foreign for you.”

  “Look,” he says on an exhale, “I’m fully aware that anyone looking at us from the outside in will think we’re crazy. But all I care about is living from the inside out. Like I said before, life is so damn short. Jana’s greatest regret, aside form not being there for the girls, was of missing out on so much life because we started our family so young. Before she died, she made me promise that I’d live the rest of my life for both of us. I know she’d want me and the girls to go for this, really experience the excitement every day has to offer.”

  My heart aches for all Jana has and will miss out on.

  “If we take the next six months to plan everything out and prepare,” Ben says. “I have no doubt it will be a success. This relationship thing is as new to you as traveling the world is to me. I’m willing to trust you when it comes to sailing, and I hope you’ll be able to trust me when it comes to us.”

  I let out a long breath. “I’m not sure if this will make us or break us.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Jump with me, Kat.”

  A bubble of laughter rises to the surface and breaks. I take his face in both hands and kiss him hard and deliberate. When I pull back, I nod and grin. “On three.”

  He smiles and kisses me again. “On three.”

  Epilogue

  KT

  Three years later

  I stand on the deck of the catamaran with Violet, Poppy, and Jazz lined up along the edge. They've been perfecting their backflips into the Ionian Sea with mainland Greece to our east and the Greek island of Kefalonia to our west. Beyond Kefalonia lies Sicily, Italy. The waters are crystal clear in ultrapure shades of turquoise and cobalt, and the temperatures run in the midseventies, sunny more often than not and I pick up my camera to shoot photos.

  Ben has been working on Kefalonia three months now, a temporary assignment with Médecins Sans Frontières, also known as Doctors Without Borders, setting up medical care for a refugee camp holding men, woman, and children from
Libya, Turkey, and Syria. This is the first time since we’ve started traveling two and a half years ago that we’ve decided to stay somewhere longer than a few weeks, but with history surrounding us, there’s never a loss for learning experiences, and the girls are like little sponges, soaking in every detail.

  “Youngest first this time,” I tell the girls. “Jazz, try to get some height right off the deck, then tuck.”

  Eight now, Jazz is still the most exuberant of the three, though Poppy has overcome her shyness and, at eleven years old, occasionally matches Jazz’s zest for life. Violet is fourteen, and I’m surprised to find there isn’t anything about the teenage years I don’t love.

  After a year and a half of sailing together, Ben was hooked. We flew back to Santa Barbara where it all began for an extremely small wedding shared with only those nearest and dearest to our hearts. I am blessed and loved and grateful beyond measure—every single day.

  I’ve also found a whole new love outside the field of mechanics—photography. It’s given me a fresh way to look at our travel, at our family, and even at myself. This hobby has brought me a lot of joy, not to mention a decent income, which I attribute to Chloe. If it weren’t for her business sense and previous experience with a huge online following, I would never have found this path.

  The girls and I entertain two million followers with travel, food, and family photos. Violet, Poppy, and Jazz each post once during the week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Jazz favors photojournalism, telling stories through a carousel of photos. Poppy offers amazing local recipes with images of both the food and the local who shared the recipe. And Violet talks about the lives of teenagers in different cultures through photographs.

  My posts are filled with shots of our family during excursions or chilling on the boat. I’ve been surprised that followers enjoy my tips on homeschooling and parenting, though to be fair, most of that content comes from Ben.

  Through ads and sponsorships, the girls and I make more money than I did as a marine mechanic. After doling out weekly allowances, the rest of the money is split evenly between their college funds.

  Now, Jazz swings her arms, jumps from the deck, tucks, and flips, hitting the water feet first. When she surfaces, grinning, her sisters hold up their fingers in a count, indicating a rating between one and ten, much like the Olympics.

  “Seven?” Jazz says to Poppy, who’s always the most critical judge. “That was so totally at least a nine.”

  She swims to the platform on the back of the cat and makes her way up to the deck, then it’s Poppy’s turn.

  Before Ben took this temporary position, we’d been exploring the Adriatic Sea, stopping in Albania, Montenegro, and Croatia, then heading down the east coast of Italy. We started in Venice and continued to Santa Maria di Leuca, at the very tip of the heel of Italy’s landscape.

  That’s where I discovered I was pregnant. A thrilling surprise. After just a few months with the girls, I knew I wanted a baby of my own too.

  Ben said he didn’t want us out to sea, days from a good health-care system again, until after the baby was born. Settled between countries with such rich histories and stunning beauty, I am happy to stay put and dive deeper into the local cultures.

  I crouch, groaning at the weight of my baby belly, and take a series of shots as Poppy flips into the water. The girls give a rating and continue with Violet’s turn.

  My watch vibrates with an incoming message from Ben. Be home in twenty. Have a surprise for everyone.

  “Is that Daddy?” Jazz asks.

  “Yeah. He says he has a surprise for us.” I run a hand over Jazz’s hair and look at the other girls. “I’m going to start dinner.”

  The girls know to stay where I can see them, and I’ve learned to keep track of them by sound as well as sight.

  Dinner is an easy platter of fish tacos, a recipe I found online that everyone loves. I’m glad Ben got back to the boat before I started cooking the fish, because he boards with a small black case, lifts it over his head, and says, “Ultrasound.”

  I laugh. The girls cheer. His sandy-blond hair has developed buttery streaks from his time in the sun. He’s wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and his skin is tan, his smile bright.

  He greets me with a kiss and a dreamy look in his eye. “Let’s see what our boy is doing in there.”

  Our boy. Hearing him say that never gets old. Neither do the ultrasounds when he’s able to borrow the portable unit from the clinic.

  I lie on the outdoor sofa, and the girls crowd around to look at the screen as Ben scans. He points out the baby’s face, his hands, his toes, and all of us go quiet to listen to the heartbeat.

  “I think he looks like a Nicolas.” As soon as the words are out of Violet’s mouth, I smile at Ben, then roll my eyes. This is a long-standing debate—what to name their baby brother.

  “I like Odysseus,” Jazz says, obviously spending too much time searching for Greek names on the internet. They’ve all decided we should name the baby in the tradition of where he’s born, though they differ on whether that should be Greece or Italy. “We can call him Odie, like the dog in the Garfield cartoon.”

  “We can’t name him after a dog,” Poppy says, appalled. “We should give him an Italian name, like Giovanni.”

  The baby kicks and rolls, and its beautifully bizarre to feel the movement at the same time as I’m watching it on the screen. Then the baby’s arm moves, his fingers stretch until all five show on the screen, and he puts his hand flat against his face.

  Ben barks a laugh. “Look at that, I don’t think he likes any of those names.”

  That makes the girls laugh, and after Ben checks the baby’s measurements and we know he’s growing at a normal rate, Ben puts the machine away. The girls all want to show Ben how their backflips have progressed and move to the deck.

  Ben stays seated beside me as I sit up. I slide onto his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. “Hey,” I say, smiling. “You know how much I love you?”

  “No, tell me.”

  I run my fingers through his hair, using a phrase we say to the kids a lot. “To the moon and back.”

  “Hearing that never gets old,” he says.

  I kiss him again. “How was your day?”

  His hands slide up my back; his forehead presses to mine. “Good. We’re making progress. Yours?”

  “Another day in paradise, baby.” I smile and kiss him. “Just another day in paradise.”

  Also by Skye Jordan

  WILDFIRE LAKE SERIES

  In Too Deep

  Going Under

  Swept Away 11/2020

  THE WRIGHTS SERIES

  So Wright

  Damn Wright

  Must be Wright

  MANHUNTERS SERIES

  Grave Secrets

  No Remorse

  RENEGADES SERIES:

  Reckless

  Rebel

  Ricochet

  Rumor

  Relentless

  Rendezvous

  Riptide

  Rapture

  QUICK & DIRTY COLLECTION:

  Dirtiest Little Secret

  WILDWOOD SERIES:

  Forbidden Fling

  Wild Kisses

  ROUGH RIDERS HOCKEY SERIES:

  Quick Trick

  Hot Puck

  Dirty Score

  Wild Zone

  COVERT AFFAIRS SERIES:

  Intimate Enemies

  First Temptation

  Sinful Deception

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  About the Author

  Skye Jordan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty-five novels. She was born and raised in California and has recently been transplanted to Northern Virginia.


  She left her challenging career in sonography at UCSF Medical Center to devote herself to writing full time, but still travels overseas on medical missions to teach sonography to physicians. Most recently, she traveled to Ethiopia and Haiti.

  Skye and her husband are coming up on their thirty year wedding anniversary and have two beautiful daughters. A lover of learning, Skye enjoys classes of all kinds, from knitting to forensic sculpting. She is an avid rower and spends many wonderful hours on the Potomac with her amazing rowing club.

  Make sure you sign up for her newsletter to get the first news of her upcoming releases, giveaways, freebies and more! http://bit.ly/2bGqJhG

  You can find Skye online here:

  Skye’s Starlets | Website | Email