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“I’m fine.” I felt as if I had to say it aloud. He needed to hear it. I needed to hear it. It was a complete lie.

“Sure you are. Always fucking fine,” he grumbled.

I stiffened next to him. Maybe I just needed to get off this boat.

“Hey, what was that old story you used to tell?” I asked. I recognized where we were for once. “Was it the swimmer something?”

“Fuck, Sierra. You don’t remember? Seriously?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“I could tell you, but I wouldn’t want to scare you.”

“You can’t scare me,” I taunted.

“You sure about that?” Blake smiled. It was sexy and smoldering. Enough to make me shiver.

He eased closer and rested his arm on the ledge above my shoulders. The breeze swirled through my hair, and I wondered if he could smell my shampoo, because I was drinking in every ounce of him—even though I tried not to.

“Try me.” I turned toward him, fully aware that his arm was almost touching me. Almost.

“See that light out there.” He pointed to a faint flashing yellow light in the distance.

“Of course,” I responded. It was as clear as any of the other markers dotting the dark waters.

He pivoted toward me. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t take us to it. As soon as we head toward it, it will move.”

My eyes grew big. “Oh wait. I think I remember that story.”

I never believed in ghost stories or legends. “It’s not real, Blake.”

“It’s real. The way my dad told it, a sailor was stranded on the shoals after a shipwreck about a hundred years ago. He was able to get out of the ship with a lantern and tried to swim to shore, but the currents out here are unpredictable and he never made it to land. The next day, they found his lantern, but never the body.”

I shivered and inadvertently scooted closer to Blake.

He continued with the tale. “So, the legend goes that the blinking yellow light is him still trying to swim to shore, but no one can ever catch up to it because of the currents.”

“Holy shit. It’s still the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard.” Ok, maybe I was a little scared. I had forgotten all of the tragic stories from the ocean.

“You want me to show you?” Blake placed his hand on the gearshift, ready to maneuver the boat toward the lantern’s light.

“Definitely.”

He laughed and gave me a killer smile that made me glad I’d boarded his boat.

“Hey, Cole.” He called up front, but his cousin was busy sleeping off his beers.

I lightly bit at my lower lip. Something about the way Blake took command of the boat as he stood and steered toward the golden light without reservation made me look at him the way I used to. It was kind of hot.

“Almost there,” he shouted over the wind.

I peered over the console, trying to keep my eyes on the target. The closer we got, the weaker the color was. I squinted harder as Blake slowed the boat.

“Where did it go? It should be here.” I stood, looking over the side of the boat.

“Over there.” Blake pointed three hundred yards east.

Blake reached down and let his hand rest on my shoulder. “I think that’s enough ghost hunting for one night. What do you say I take you home?”