"Um, no, actually. I'm not Mrs. Parker," I replied, feeling a bit flustered and annoyed. I set my cup on the railing and made sure the robe was securely tied around my waist.
The man's face twisted into what should have passed for a smile, but his eyes lingered just a little too long at my robe. I resisted the urge to tighten it further.
"Well, in that case, forget I said anything about a wife," he said. His blue eyes leered up at me and I fought the urge to just go inside. This was my porch, and I was allowed to be out drinking coffee in a robe and not be ogled.
"Can I help you with something?" I finally asked as he continued to look at me as though I were something he could buy. My peaceful cup of coffee out on the deck was turning into a blood-pressure raising experience.
"I'm Thomas Grant, a friend of Owen's. Is he around by chance?" He glanced around as though Owen might appear at any moment.
"No, I'm afraid he's not." I was trying very hard to remember my manners. If this man really did know Owen, then he was most likely very wealthy and would have connections. I didn't want to endanger any of Owen's business dealings by being rude while staying at his house. "We're friends of his and he's letting us use the house for the week."
The man nodded and unclasped the aviator glasses from his shirt and slid them over his eyes. "That explains the boat, then. Owen is a decent sailor, but he prefers something a little more classy than that."
I nearly flung my coffee at his head. "That is my boat."
Grant tipped his head forward, and he peered over his sunglasses at me. "My apologies." He flashed me a very fake smile full of perfect teeth. "Be careful on her. She looks like more boat than you're ready for."
My hand balled into a fist, and my nails bit into the flesh. I wanted to punch him and that smug look off his face; instead, I put on my sweetest smile. "I'm sorry. I don't think I introduced myself. I'm Samantha Conners, winner of the 2012 Spring Sailing Championship. I don't remember asking your opinion on the boat, but I think I'll be okay. Thanks."
Grant crossed his arms, glancing back over his shoulder at my boat, and then shrugged. "Again, I apologize." There was no sincerity to his voice though. "I suppose from here you just don't look like much of a sailor."
Gee, was it my pajamas that gave you that impression? I wondered if the local authorities would arrest me for murder or give me a public service medal if I murdered him right there. I couldn't be the only person on the island that he managed to insult. My fist clenched just a little more tightly as I forced out a polite smile. "It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Grant, but I'm afraid I am out of coffee. Have a wonderful day."
I turned on my heel, seething inwardly and nearly sloshing my half-full coffee cup all over the porch. I slammed the glass door, glad to see him already half way down the beach. I kept watching him until he was past my boat, hoping that he would trip and eat a mouthful of sand.
"What's with the scowl?" Robbie asked, kissing my cheek gently. I had been so intent on watching the annoying man leave that I didn't hear him come up behind me.
"You ever hear of someone called Thomas Grant?" I picked up my coffee cup and went to refill it. Hopefully, the second cup would end up smoother than the first.
Robbie's face twisted with dislike as he glanced out the window. "Yeah, I've heard of him." He shook his head as though something bitter was in his mouth. "Meeting him would explain the scowl. How'd you manage to run into him in your bathrobe?"
"I stepped outside to enjoy the sun when he decided to insult my boat." I set my coffee cup down hard on the kitchen counter.
"That man is a class A jerk. I've raced him a couple of times." Robbie caught me in the kitchen and put his hands on my shoulders. "He's good, but he's arrogant and I'm pretty sure he has a whole tree stuck up his ass."
I giggled at the image in my head and Robbie smiled.
"Don't you worry about him or his insults," Robbie said, leaning forward to kiss my forehead softly and soothe away the vexation. "We're here to practice for the race, not to worry about some snotty jackass who trespasses on private property."
I nodded and snuggled up to his chest. "You're right. Let's eat and get out on the water. It's a beautiful day."
Robbie wrapped his arms around me and squeezed, hugging the annoyance right out of me. I wasn't about to let Thomas Grant ruin my day. I had too much to look forward to.
Chapter 14
I released the sheet, letting it fall back into the starting position for what felt like the millionth time. Robbie and I were doing drills to prepare for the Invitational, and the best way to get good and fast at something was to do it a billion times.
"You ready for a break?" Robbie called out as I lowered the jib sail to prepare for yet another drill. I nodded eagerly, glad to have a little break from practicing. I felt like we were making real progress in our teamwork and sailing. Despite the hard work, I was having a good time.
Robbie turned the boat into the wind, and I lowered the mainsail so that we would just float out on the open ocean. Several other white sails bobbed within sight of the island, but they were far enough away that it felt like we had the entire ocean to ourselves.
Together, we sat on the bow of the ship. The sky was bright blue and the clouds seemed too perfect to be real. Sunlight glimmered off of the faceted waves, sparkling into eternity. Everything was so beautiful.
"Here you go," Robbie said, handing me a Snickers candy bar. I grinned, turning the candy over in my hands. He already had stripped the wrapper from his and taken two large bites by the time I even got a nibble on mine.
Smiling, I shook my head at him. "You are so like your dad. He loved his candy, too."
Robbie froze and then swallowed hard. "I am nothing like my father."
The vehemence in his voice surprised me. I remembered Daniel Saunders as a driven man, always trying to excel at business and give his children a better life. The idea that Robbie was so against being like him surprised me.
"I remember your dad fondly. He was always nice to me. Remember how he used to take us sailing in the morning?" I smiled down at the candy in my hand. "He would bring Snickers bars for us."
"So? We stopped sailing, and he stopped caring." Robbie turned away from me, and the temperature on the boat seemed to drop a few degrees.
"That's not true, Robbie, and you know it. He loved you," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. He stiffened and stared out at the open ocean.
"You say that, but you weren't there." His voice was low and soft. There was so much pain in it that I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and take all the hurt away.
"He gave you his candy bar. That's how I know he loved you," I said. Robbie turned, his brows pinched and confused.
"What are you talking about?"
"Do you remember how your dad used to take us out sailing, and before we left, he would give us each a candy bar? It was always a Snickers," I said, gesturing to the candy in my hand. Robbie nodded.
"I remember. Mom said they weren't good for us, so she never let us have them. They were a special treat, and we'd always sit on the deck and eat them."
"Do you remember the time yours went overboard?" I asked.
"You mean the time someone knocked it out of my hand, and it went spiraling into the water and crushed my soul?" Robbie asked, raising his eyebrows and giving me a pointed look.
"That's not the important part of the story. The important part was that you were whining about it-" I started.
"I was not whining!" Robbie interjected.
"The important part is that you were crushed," I said before he could interrupt again. "It was a special thing, and you didn’t have yours anymore. I remember your dad looked out at the bar floating away, reached into his jacket pocket and just handed you his." I looked up at Robbie and shrugged. "The whole reason we even got them was because your dad loved his Snickers, and your mom wouldn't let him have any. But he didn't even pause for a second; he just gave it to you because he wanted you to b
e happy."
Robbie sat there quietly. He frowned, remembering the event. I didn't think he had ever looked at it that way before.
"I know a Snickers bar isn't much, but it was just the way that he did it. When he handed it to you, there was no remorse on his face. It was joy that he was going to make you smile. I remember the expression because it was such an expression of fatherly love that it's etched into my memory." I paused and took his hand. "I know you didn't see it then, but he loved you. A lot."
Robbie was silent, his green eyes searching the waves as if they could reveal some sort of answer. The words came out slowly as he said, "I had forgotten that."
He looked up at me and then shook his head. "But that was before. As I got older, it was always about the company with him. How I should be involved and do stuff with it. Always."
"Robbie, that company was his life. He and your mom poured their blood, sweat, and tears into that company. It was like their child. And I know you hated it, but can you imagine how much it hurt them when you wanted nothing to do with it? It would be like your son not wanting to sail." I stepped up close to him, tipping my face up under his so he had to look at me. "I'm not saying they were right, but it wasn't just that they were harping on you."
Robbie sighed, turning his head away from me. I knew he didn't like being told he was wrong, but to see his heartache over his father's perceived dislike of him was something I couldn't bear. I had to do something to stop it.
"The company was his life. I tried, but I just never understood what was so interesting about oil and accounting. No wonder he loved Jack more," Robbie said sullenly.
I put my fingers on his cheek, turning his head back to look at me. "Jack casts a big shadow, and it's hard to get out from under it. You got the unlucky casting of the second son." I smiled gently at him. "But Robbie, just because your brother and your father bonded over the company, and you didn't, doesn't mean he didn't love you any less. He gave you his candy bar."
Robbie pulled away from my gaze, blinking away tears. I could practically hear the thoughts buzzing through his head as he reevaluated his memories and tried to look at his father as just a man. It was difficult not to see his father as the god that all children see their parents as, but he was trying.
"You aren't your father Robbie. But you are his son. I see the best parts of him in you. The same unstoppable drive and desire to succeed." I put my hand on his shoulder again, and he sat very still under my fingers, staring out at the water. "You never give up and neither did he, you just have different passions. His was his business; yours is sailing. Your passion drives you, and sometimes it blinds you to the things around you. His did. He still loved you, he just got wrapped up in the company and forgot to look around."
He turned slowly, his green eyes full of emotion. There was a depth to him that I loved. His hand found my cheek, his fingers soft and gentle. "I'm looking around now. And I see you."
I smiled under his hand, leaning forward to kiss him. Our lips touched for only a moment, but it was full of tender emotion.
"I love you, Sam. I think I always have. You bring out the best in me, and you help me to see clearly. I don't know what I would do without you." His fingers caressed my cheek and then tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Our eyes were locked, and I was lost in his green depths, swimming away on his love.
"I love you too, Robbie," I whispered. His fingers dropped to my chin, guiding my mouth to his. I could taste the candy on his tongue. My heart sang in my chest because Robbie loved me. And I loved him. There was nothing that could ruin this moment.
"So this is what champions do to practice?" A voice called out across the water.
Robbie stiffened and we both fell back, glancing about to discover the owner of the voice. On our port side a beautiful and very expensive racing yacht labeled The Gauntlet was pulling up next to us. Thomas Grant was at the wheel, a smirk twisting his lips under oversized sunglasses.
I scrambled to my feet, wiping away the kiss with the back of my hand. I wished the blush would fade, but I knew I was beet red. Robbie gave a wooden smile, raising his hand in a welcoming gesture.
"Hello, Thomas." Robbie's voice was monotone.
"Robbie! I hear you're entered in the Champion of Champions race? Good luck. Sarah here's won it three years running. We're looking to make it four." Grant sneered and motioned to a stunning young woman handling the ropes of The Gauntlet's gray sails. She was model perfect with dark hair, olive skin, and intense brown eyes. I recognized her immediately as Sarah Parish, one of my biggest sailing inspirations.
"Good luck to you with that," Robbie called back. He sauntered to the railing, leaning over to peer into the water. "The Gauntlet, eh? She appears to be listing a little to the starboard."
"What?" Grant frowned and then regained his composure. "I'm sure it's nothing. Since we've happened to run into you out here, I was wondering if you'd be interested in a friendly race? You know, as practice for the big day coming up?"
Robbie and I glanced at one another and I grinned. I was tired of drills; a race would be perfect practice. Plus I wanted to drive him into the sandy bottom of the ocean and bury those stupid sunglasses.
"That sounds like fun," Robbie answered with a grin. I rubbed my hands together; adrenaline was already starting to creep into my system. I lived for racing.
"First one to Blue Cove Harbor. Start at Shark Tooth Rock, round the buoy, and into the harbor. Normal rules." Grant gave a mirthless smirk that made me feel a little sick to my stomach. "I can't wait to see what the competition for the race is going to be like."
Robbie and I turned toward one another and grinned. We were going to make him eat our bubbles.
***
We maneuvered the two boats toward Shark Tooth Rock. A jagged piece of gray granite reared out of the water, looking very much like a giant shark had left a tooth pointing to the sky. I had the jib up, the wind crackling through the sail as we coaxed our boat to a strong starting speed. Robbie and Grant exchanged nods as they both crossed the imaginary starting line emanating from the rock. I grinned. The race was on.
The buoy was upwind, so we began a series of tacks. The Gauntlet and Avery's Hope crisscrossed paths as we each zigzagged at 45 degree angles to the wind, allowing us to sail "against" the wind. Each turn required us to change the sheet positions, controlling the sails in unison. If we didn't do them properly, or in sync, we would fall behind.
The sails crackled like strange clouds, and water sprayed up into the air, shimmering like diamonds as it landed on the boat. My feet thudded against the deck as I hurried to and fro, adjusting sheets and following Robbie's commands. I loved this part of the race; the part where anything was possible and the world was nothing but wind and waves.
"He's coming in on the starboard tack," Robbie called out. "We're going to go to port."
"Got it, Skipper!" I yelled, running to the jib sheets and positioning them to tack. The wind blew my hair into my eyes, but I didn't let go of the lines, concentrating solely on my task. We needed to turn to catch the wind in the other direction.
"I need more helm!" Robbie yelled with frustration as the boat started to slow as we lost the wind. "We're not on our angle!"
I grunted as I pulled the sheet in. I could hear Grant and Sarah calling out to one another almost as if they were singing a duet as they pulled on ropes and scampered around the deck.
Grant fell behind us slightly, and I grinned until I realized what he was doing. As I started to work the jib sail in order to tack again, he went slightly to the side of our boat, forcing us to continue straight instead of zigzagging. He was going to force us off path and make us work that much harder to come back.
Robbie snarled with frustration as he attempted to tack again, but found Grant's boat directly in his path. He frowned and shouted out an order to fix the mainsail, and I hopped to the sheet, pulling and winching the sail into a different position. We had to change our position, or we would sail past the buoy and
miss the turn.
We slowed slightly and overlapped his boat with ours.
I could hear Grant curse as we took the wind out of his sails, our own sails catching the breeze before it could power his. Grant called with authority to Sarah, and she called back as they worked to free themselves from our overlap. The buoy was coming up fast, and I began to pull the jib. Robbie yelled that it was too early, but the damage was done.
As we rounded the turning mark, Grant sped ahead, free in his own wind again. I growled; the rope slid under my hands as I attempted to maneuver the sail back into the proper position. Robbie yelled a command, thinking I already had the sheet in position; I struggled to finish the maneuver, but I could feel the boat slow again. I cursed again, feeling out of sync with Robbie and the boat.
Grant sped forward.
The Gauntlet had taken control of the race and was dominating. Grant had found a current and was using it in addition to the sails to propel him faster. I could see the two of them in the other boat, performing the maneuvers that I knew we needed to perform, but doing them just seconds faster. Grant and Sarah were a well-oiled team with far more practice working together than Robbie and I had. Every turn, every tack, every shift in the wind they caught and adapted just seconds faster. In a race like this, those seconds added up quickly, and it wasn't long before The Gauntlet was well over two boat lengths ahead. It was a death by a thousand cuts as we continued to lose ground.
The race was over. We had lost. I took down the sails as we trailed into the harbor, coming alongside The Gauntlet. Grant leaned against the railing of his boat, smugness spilling off him in waves.
"Nice of you two to finally arrive. We were afraid you weren't going to make it." He laughed mockingly. "Well, at least it's nice to know we won't have to worry about you two on race day."
Robbie stiffened at the helm, his body taut with defeat. My hands clenched against the line, wishing I could wrap it around Grant's throat for just a minute. "The race is still a ways away," Robbie growled. "You won't be so lucky then."
Freshwater Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story Page 10
