Sailing at Sunset

by Cindi Madsen

  It was no use, though. She wasn’t tall enough in her flats—might not even be tall enough in her heels. She reeled in her line and recast, simply for something to do. Then she paced back and forth a yard or so, idly wondering how long it would take to form a groove in the pale wood.

  At the ten-minute mark, she added some dance moves to her pacing, tapping out a rhythm with the soles of her shoes as she did her best to convince herself she didn’t miss Josh. How could she, when he hadn’t been gone that long and she barely knew the guy?

  Still, something had shifted between them this afternoon. First, when he’d teased her about rolling down the bluffs to save time, and again in the lighthouse, as they’d discussed her dad and the stress his passing had caused, and he’d mentioned his divorce. A big part of what had made it easy to be that open was their mini adventure in the stairwell.

  Once you reached adulthood, there weren’t many magic moments to seize hold of. Having Josh there to anchor her so she could get a prime view of the multicolored swirl and timeless beauty of the architecture involved in the staircase had left her in awe. Of how people had done so much with simpler tools, and that thanks to his encouragement and strong grip, she’d done something risky. For her anyway.

  “How you doing?”

  Danae jumped, then rolled her eyes at her flighty reaction. It was the second time Josh had scared her.

  He snickered, and she tightened her grip on the pole in her right hand and smacked his arm with her left. Considering the stretch, it hardly had anything behind it—not that she wanted to hurt him.

  His solid shoulder made her doubt she could.

  “Has anyone had any luck?” she asked, fiddling with the handle on the reel. The end was loose, so she’d have to find a screwdriver later, but right now, she was enjoying spinning it round and around.

  “A couple of nibbles. I think Paige and Vanessa are both determined to show one another up. They were both asking for the best tactics and bait and all sorts of questions, rapid-fire-style, until I felt like I was being interrogated.” The chuckle that came out at the end of the sentence made it clear he’d found it entertaining.

  “As long as a fight doesn’t break out when one of them does catch a fish, I’ll consider it a fortuitous turn of events.”

  “Don’t worry. I used to play basketball and football, not to mention I follow the pros, so I’ve seen a lot of refs in action.” He lifted an imaginary whistle, blew it, and gave his invisible players a ten-yard penalty.

  “Well, I’m here to burst your bubble and say seeing is not the same as doing.”

  He rested his forearms on the railing, mere inches from her fishing pole, and spoke in a low voice, his mouth not far from her ear. “Which is why I’m making you fish instead of having you watch how many I could expertly reel in.”

  A shiver of awareness tiptoed up her spine, and goose bumps spread across her skin.

  “Are you cold?”

  Danae was about to tell him that if he’d hold her pole, she’d go grab one of her cardigans. But then he shucked off his green army jacket and held it out to her. She considered refusing it, but she was getting cold.

  She slipped her arm in the too-long sleeve, basking in Josh’s leftover body heat. He wrapped it around her and guided her other arm through the hole. As he swept her hair out from underneath the jacket, his fingers grazed the sensitive skin on the nape of her neck, and her lungs forgot how to function.

  “Better?” he asked.

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, foiling her attempt to speak, so she went with a nod. Her hand trembled as she zipped up the jacket, and she wanted to bury her nose in the fabric and take another whiff so she could soak in the intoxicating combination of ocean and the woodsy cologne Josh wore.

  The moonlight lit up his profile, and her heart thump, thump, thumped. The tingly sensation she’d experienced earlier intensified, whispering that there was something between them. While she wasn’t sure it was a good idea, she couldn’t help but want to explore their connection—after all, she hadn’t felt like this in months.

  Maybe longer, if she factored in never feeling so immediately drawn to anyone before.

  With her pulse hammering away, it took a couple of seconds to realize the thump in her palm was a different sensation. “Josh, I feel something.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and he placed his hand over hers. “I think I do, too.”

  “That means I have a bite, right? It’s been almost two decades, and I don’t remember much, besides my dad having to help me out a few times because the fish were so strong. But I was a lot young—”

  The next jerk nearly wrenched the pole right out of her hands. She clasped the grippy handle and yanked back in an attempt to set the hook. The end of her pole bowed, to the point it almost hit the water.

  “Must be a big one,” Josh yelled, excitement ringing through the phrase and echoing through her core.

  “Now what?” Her mind went blank, leaving her scrambling to recall the tips she’d stored away for what she assumed would be…never. Honestly, she’d never expected to catch anything.

  “Reel it in!” Josh reached around her to tap the handle attached to the spool.

  Right. Of course. Danae cranked it as quickly as she could, doing her best not to get distracted by the solid body directly behind her and his warm breath on her cheek. “You got it, you got it.”

  “It’s either huge or fighting me. Oh, no,” she said, her stomach plummeting to the ground. “What if it’s both?”

  Her shoulder and arm muscles burned as she continued to reel with all her might. In the background, she heard someone ask if she’d caught one. As her coworkers rushed their way, Josh took a giant step back.

  “You’ve got this, Danae,” Vanessa said. Not to be outdone, Paige yelled her encouragement, as did Mark.

  One quick glance at the group, and determination flooded her. She pushed past the burning in her arm, and then she heard the jingle of the lure and the slapping of fins on the surface of the water.

  Another tug, and she would’ve fallen on her bum if Josh hadn’t braced a firm hand on her lower back to steady her.

  Water splashed her face and hands as she lifted the fish and swung it into the boat, but thanks to Josh’s jacket, her arms were nice and dry.

  Everyone gathered to check out the black sea bass.

  “That’s a nice sized one, D,” Mark said, and she did a double take. He hadn’t called her D in a very long time. Like, since their breakup. She blinked at him but didn’t see any clues as to why.

  Not that she’d expected to.

  Or maybe she had. Her adrenaline flowed in overwhelming spurts, and a surreal haze hung over the evening. Then a blip of a memory rose to her mind—Dad congratulating her, shouting and jumping with such gusto that they attracted the attention of a nearby fisherman who’d come to see the catch of the day.

  After he quickly and humanely dispatched it, Danae shoved the pole into Josh’s hands and squatted to see her fish. Vanessa turned on her phone’s light so she could take pictures, and the blue and black scales glimmered in the bright glow.

  If Danae didn’t stand soon, her burning thighs would give out on her, but she quite liked the view from down here. From this angle, their captain’s beard was extra rugged, and the line of muscle in his forearm stood out as he gripped the fishing pole she’d used. “Okay,” he said, “so now you have to get the hook out of its mouth.”

  That got her to her feet. “Um, that’s okay. I’ll hold the pole. You do the gross stuff.”

  “Lucky me,” he said lightly, and the smile he aimed her way gave her that fresh-from-the-roller-coaster swirl. Perhaps she should’ve set a nice strong example for her team by doing it herself, but what mattered was they were all gathered to celebrate their freshly caught dinner. Along with the fact that at least in the h
ere and now, everyone was getting along.

  Except where was Franco? She didn’t see him, and she crossed her fingers that it didn’t mean he was retreating from the group.

  With her fishing win, the rest of the team were encouraged and returned to their poles. Whenever one of them got a bite, they all gathered to cheer that person on. As they were wrapping up their fishing session—it was getting so dark they could hardly see—Danae glanced at the time. “Whoa.”

  While her blood pressure spiked for a moment, she expelled a long breath and told herself it was okay they were an hour behind schedule. Dinner was the only thing left for the day, and that made it easier to be okay with it.

  The guy proudly holding up their catches also helped tremendously.

  Josh walked up to her, and she put her hands up to block, in case he thought throwing fish at her would be funny—it absolutely wouldn’t be, even if she had his jacket to wipe off the slimy scales. Which she would totally do.

  “Are you ready to be impressed by a fish dinner?” he asked.

  “As long as you remember you’re fighting a losing battle.”

  His left side brushed her arm and shoulder as he passed by. Instead of continuing on his way, though, he leaned in and said, “The odds have been stacked against me before. And it doesn’t scare me—I’m one of those never-say-die guys.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You honestly think you could out-stubborn me?”

  “I think we’ll both have fun trying.” He gave her shoulder a light squeeze, and she didn’t care that his hands probably had fish scales and squid slime on them. Every ounce of her blood rushed to that spot, and she could say with a surety that today had absolutely been a better day.

  There was just one more thing she needed to handle.

  Chapter Nine

  After washing her hands so they were as fish-free as possible, Danae found Franco seated at the outside table where they usually held their meetings.

  “Hey,” she said, sitting next to him on the bench seat. The padding underneath the creamy vinyl was thinner than her office chair, and she’d sat down hard enough that her bones experienced a mini jolt. “Deep-sea fishing not your thing? I didn’t think it was mine until I caught what Josh insists is gonna be our dinner. Mark and Paige each caught one, too.”

  “I don’t mind it, but I was exhausted after all our hiking. Guess I’m not in as good a shape as I thought.”

  “You and me both. I was wheezing by the time we made it down those stairs to the beach—I almost decided Josh’s suggestion to roll down the bluffs instead wasn’t crazy.”

  Franco laughed. “I’d definitely end up breaking an ankle or something.”

  “Nobody’s going to get hurt on my watch.”

  “Not sure you can be in control of that,” Franco said.

  “You underestimate my power,” she joked, adopting an evil-villain voice. “But for reals, we need everyone to stay at full capacity.”

  Now that she’d gotten a moment alone with Franco, she hesitated to ruin it by talking shop. She worried that the longer they went without addressing last night, though, the bigger a deal it would seem. Given that Franco was the one she’d leaned on at the office post-Mark-breakup, it made it harder to balance being in a management position and maintaining their office friendship. “As you know, I’m new to leading meetings. What I should’ve started with last night was what I liked about the website—the color scheme and the photos, for instance.”

  Franco rolled his eyes. “That’s what the web designer picked out.”

  “Oh. So you’re saying my pep talk is already severely lacking.”

  That earned her half a smile. “It’s okay, Danae. Do you think that’s the first time I’ve shown off a beta version of a website only to hear everything wrong with it? In the moment, it’s always hard not to be upset if people aren’t declaring it sheer genius, but after some time to process and brainstorm, I’m sure I can build a stronger site that appeals to everyone. Most everyone, anyway, because you can’t please ’em all.”

  How ironic, because pleasing everyone was more or less Mr. Barton’s challenge to her in order to keep her promotion. The pressure that had gripped her yesterday returned, quickening her pulse until her temples throbbed with it. Since right now wasn’t about her, she’d have to pencil in her panic attack for later. “Wait. That means the font probably wasn’t your pick, either.”

  “Nope. I also thought the words were hard to read, which is why I didn’t put much copy on the homepage. But I often get so focused on functionality that I’m not always the best judge of those types of artistic touches. I figured the web designer had a reason for going that way.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything when Paige mentioned it?”

  Franco shrugged. “Didn’t see the point. It’s on me to fix it anyway. I did send the designer an email asking for some tweaks this morning, though.”

  “But you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. If anything, the fact that people didn’t like the animated ships made me realize why I’m on the tech end and not the design end. I also got too caught up in trying to show off all the cool things I could make our website do, instead of keeping our key demographic in mind.”

  Danae tucked a leg underneath her and propped an elbow on the back of the bench seat. “As Mark pointed out at the meeting, I also struggle with that. Sometimes who we cater to gets in the way of the big ideas I have for other target markets.”

  “I hear you,” Franco said, granting her one of his signature toothy smiles, and relief tumbled through her, allowing for easier breaths and looser posture. The fun moments with Josh had helped distract her, but accidentally offending Franco had loomed in the back of her mind. She’d worried that she might return home to lose not only the promotion she’d worked months to attain, but a good friendship, too.

  She tugged the sides of Josh’s army jacket tighter, crossing one over the other. Hopefully Josh wouldn’t mind her keeping the borrowed jacket a tad longer, since he was in the kitchen and it got super toasty between the oven and the extra bodies.

  “You like wearing that jacket, don’t you?” Franco asked. The knowing gleam in his eyes caught her off guard.

  “Well, sure. It’s chilly out here.” But her cheeks suddenly felt warm.

  Franco lowered his voice. “Right. And it has nothing to do with the handsome sea captain it belongs to.”

  “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

  “All right.” Franco shrugged, clearly not in the least convinced.

  A loud throat-clearing made both her and Franco glance up. Mark strolled over. Had he overheard that last bit of conversation? If so, he gave no indication of it as he took a seat across from them

  “I’ve been thinking, and I…” He raked his fingers through his sandy-colored hair. “I owe both of you an apology.”

  Cold air filtered in through Danae’s open mouth, enough to give her momentary brain freeze. Everything freeze, really.

  “In my attempt to make my point about our target demographic, I’m afraid I implied that your opinion isn’t valid, Franco. And it is. You’ve helped me with coding glitches and computer crashes—not to mention how every time I’ve needed a form for our newsletter or a marketing poll created, you come up with amazing options to get us more accurate data. All I can say is that I let my ego get in the way. Guess that makes me the caveman that Danae’s occasionally accused me of being.”

  Mark winked at her, and if she wasn’t seated next to Franco, she might’ve checked to see if the guy had turned into a robot. He’d never been forthcoming with his feelings. Never voluntarily discussed them.

  Then again, she vaguely remembered this version of him. The kindness and intelligence that had initially attracted her to him.

  “And, Danae, I’ve been practically throwing a tantrum since you got the promotion over me.
Again, it was my bruised ego, and I’m sorry. I’ve been working up the courage to apologize all day, and figured it’d be easiest in the semi-dark.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle, and Danae scooted to the edge of her seat.

  “Thank you, Mark. I appreciate that.” Even after dating for nearly a year, she’d felt like she’d only managed to scratch the surface of who he was and what made him tick. Her attempts to dive deeper had been a big part of what broke them apart. He’d thought she wanted to micromanage him, but she’d merely been trying to find a way to get through. Now here he was, offering up an apology she hadn’t asked for or expected.

  “That’s really big of you,” Franco said. “I think it’s important we have a lot of different perspectives in order for the new campaign to be as strong as possible, and I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  Mark nodded. “I do.”

  Franco’s stomach grumbled, and he put a hand over it. “Wow. Evidently I’m hungrier than I realized. Guess we’d better head to the kitchen and try out that fish.”

  Josh flipped the fish and salted the other side. He’d melted butter in the pan and browned the garlic. After that was done, he’d drizzled lemon juice over the top and added rosemary, salt, parsley, and black pepper, seasoning it to perfection.

  Every few seconds, his gaze drifted to the doorway. Danae still hadn’t come down, and Mark had mumbled something about going to find her and Franco.

  Which was fine.

  Regardless of whether or not the idea of Mark talking to Danae caused a toxic churn in his gut. He didn’t have any right to be jealous. Although he couldn’t stop replaying their moments from today. Her pitching in on the boat. The bluffs. The lighthouse.

  When she’d said she felt something, he’d thought she’d been confessing to a mutual attraction. Or her attraction, anyway, since he couldn’t stop looking at her. Talking to her. Eyeing her hand and twitching with the urge to hold it again.

  He’d thought Oh good, a woman who’s gonna shoot straight and avoid playing games.