Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“No. It’s only been a couple dates.”
Watching Harrison with the kids, I suddenly hear Evan’s voice in my head. I flash back to the night at our spot, the two of us naked under the stars while he mused about kids and a family. The preposterous notion of Evan as a stay-at-home dad, his motorcycle rusting in the yard. Sure.
Yet as difficult as that image is to conjure, it’s not entirely unattractive.
As Kayla and I part with a hug and no hard feelings, the mayor of Avalon Bay takes the mic on a small platform in front of the marina to announce the race participants. I half tune him out, at least until a familiar name greets my ears.
“—and Evan Hartley, sailing with Riley Dalton.”
My head jerks up, and I nearly choke on the melted remnants of my lemon slush at the sound of Evan’s name. I would think I’m hallucinating if not for Harrison raising an eyebrow at the same time.
Huh.
I wonder if Evan remembers he can’t sail.
CHAPTER 21
EVAN
“Mistakes were made.”
Riley laughs.
“That much is clear. It may have started when I steered us into another boat coming off the starting line. It may have been when we failed to make the first turn around the buoy. Who’s to say, really?”
A hysterical noise escapes his throat, a cross between a snort and a howl. Riley hasn’t stopped laughing since we rammed the dock. No, not rammed. We nudged the dock. Rammed would suggest a great rate of speed, which I don’t think we achieved during the entire race.
Sopping wet, I wring out my T-shirt over the railing of the boardwalk while the trophy presentation kicks off at the other end of the marina.
“Dude,” he chokes out between giggles. “We failed miserably.”
“Not true,” I protest. “There was a high point there when we managed to right the ship and not entirely capsize.”
He’s still laughing as we make our way to the crowd gathered around the platform, cheering for the winners and politely congratulating all those who placed. I’m just glad we’re not getting stuck with a bill for salvaging the boat off the bottom of the bay.
As it turns out, I can’t sail for shit. It’s hard, actually. So many ropes and pulleys and winches, who the fuck knew. I thought you just put the sail up and steered, but apparently there’s such a thing as oversteering, and steering left to go right for some stupid reason. Almost the second the starting gun went off, we were discombobulated. Came in dead last after tipping the boat and nearly going in the drink.
But Riley’s still laughing, absolutely stoked on the whole ordeal. Mostly at my suffering, I think, but that’s okay. The kid had a great time, which was the whole damn point to begin with.
“There’s my guy.” His aunt Liz, a petite woman with pretty brown eyes and long hair tied in a low ponytail, finds us among the spectators and gives him a hug. “You have fun?”
“It was a blast,” Riley says. “For a minute there, I thought we were goners.”
“Oh,” she says, covering her alarm with a laugh. “Well, I’m glad you both survived.”
“Don’t worry. I’m a much better swimmer than I am a sailor. I wouldn’t let your kid drown.” I say this, of course, shirtless, with a full back of tattoos. Lady probably thinks I look more like Riley’s drug dealer than his role model.
“Can I have some money for the hot dog stand?” Riley pleads. “I’m starving.”
With an indulgent smile, Riley’s aunt hands him a few bucks and sends him off.
“Trust me,” I assure her, now concerned that putting a kid’s life in mortal peril might reflect poorly on my participation in the program. “He wasn’t in any danger. Just a minor mishap.”
Liz waves off my concern. “I’m not worried. He hasn’t had this much fun in a long time.”
I think about the Riley I met that first afternoon—the shy, quiet teen who spent the first couple hours staring at his feet and mumbling to himself. Cut to today, where he’s shouting commands at me and taking snarky jabs at my lack of nautical prowess. I don’t know if it’s what the program had in mind, but I’d call that improvement. For our relationship, at least.
“He’s a cool kid. Who knows, maybe he can teach me how to sail and we can try again next year.” I surprise myself when it occurs to me what I’ve just said. I hadn’t given much thought to how long this arrangement would last. But now that I give it some consideration, I couldn’t imagine Riley and I not being pals a year from now.
“You know, I think you mean that.” Liz studies me, and I can’t help wondering what she sees. “I do appreciate everything you’ve done for him. I know it’s only been a couple weeks, but you’re starting to mean a lot to Riley. You’re good for him.”