Page 6

Like a freak, instead of acknowledging him and waving, I hold the bench swing still with the toe of my foot on the ground. I already have the quilt cocooned around me, so I use it as natural camouflage in the darkness of the shadow of the house. It’s near pitch black out and I didn’t bother with the porch light so he shouldn’t be able to see me, as long as I remain still.

Why am I hiding? Wasn’t I just contemplating how to approach him to confess my feelings? Wouldn’t this be a perfect opportunity?

Of course it would be. That’s why I freeze like a deer in the headlights, validating Warren’s nickname for me even more. Warren eventually turns back around having not noticed me, and steps aboard his boat and into the cabin below. A light flicks on inside the space, and I watch motionless.

God I’m such a weirdo.

Pulling together all the sanity and bravado I possess, I extricate myself from the quilt, shivering in the cold night air, and make my way to Warren’s boat. Hyping myself up the entire way with words of affirmation that he’s going to accept and return my affection. One can only hope right?

I wrap my arms around my waist and rub my cotton clad arms. I’m wearing a long sleeve thermal but it’s fucking cold out. I don’t know how Warren managed to walk all the way here fromthe bar without freezing. Probably all the alcohol warming him up.

Standing at the precipice of my future_and Warren’s boat_I watch through the windows as he moves around shifting things from here to there. He’s removed his jacket and must have turned on his hydronic heating system. It’s something he bragged about installing with how efficient it is with its on demand hot water and ability to heat the space quickly. Being inside in the warmth sounds really nice right about now.

Carefully I step from the wood planks of the dock, on to the lip of his boat and hoist myself in with the help of the thin flexible railing.The Knotty Boyisn’t a luxury cruise liner by any means, but it’s big enough for international water travel. Spanning forty feet it has everything he’ll need.

I marvel at the amount of work he’s done since first purchasing it. There were holes in the hull, it needed a new sail and practically every engine part imaginable. I don’t think there’s a part of it he didn’t refurbish. But it had good bones, and the mast was sturdy, making for a great starting point. A few times all of us pitched in to help with one thing or another. Mainly painting since I’m not very handy with a hammer or any tool for that matter. But place a paint brush in my hand and I can paint you a whole house in a day.

Stepping down into the cockpit, I circle the helm, running my fingers along the smooth polished wood, and approach the door to the cabin below. I suck in a steadying breath and knock.

It takes less than five seconds for Warren to climb the ladder like stairs and pull the door open. Fucking shirtless.Again. Doesn’t he know it’s like forty degrees’ outside right now?

I stare down at his tattooed bronze skin stunned, because what the hell else am I supposed to do when he answers the door half naked?

“Bambi. What are you doing here? It’s freezing outside.”

He doesn’t wait for me to explain why I’m knocking on his door at nearly one in the morning in the freezing cold weather and pulls me in by the hand. It’s far warmer inside and I climb down the few stairs into the cabin. It’s an all-in-one area with a small kitchen in one corner, a built-in couch on the other and a small dinette that’s bolted to the floor with a bench seat along the outer wall.

There are boxes of supplies partially open and in process of being put away and secured. Loops of rope hang from the ceiling, partially for holding onto in rough waters but some are hanks of extra rope. You can never have too much rope on a boat. The entire interior is a mix of blues and white. Nothing fancy and most of it second hand or gifted, which I appreciate. My entire apartment is filled with antique and thrifted furniture and wares. Why add more garbage to the landfills when there is plenty of lightly used furniture out there waiting to be rehomed and loved?

“What are you doing here? I thought you went home hours ago.”

Warren circles from behind me after securely shutting the cabin door. I bolster myself and prepare for the confession coming.

“I drove Gigi home and decided to stay. Couldn’t sleep and saw you walking home. Thought I would come say goodnight, since I didn’t when I left.

“Yeah. Why didn’t you?”

Crap. What do I say now? What’s a good excuse?

“You were busy talking with people and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Gigi said goodbye.”

Damnit.

“You know Gigi is more assertive than I am.”

Warren nods but still frowns at me. Okay, so, here we go.

“So, you’re really going this time?” I begin, easing into what I really came here to say. I need to confirm he’s actually leaving, and I don’t have any reason left to fear telling him before I confess everything.

“Yes.”

“No more delays? I was hoping you would change your mind and stay,” I admit.

“I know, but you know I can’t. This town is suffocating.”

“I kind of thought all the wide-open spaces were refreshing.” I laugh hoping to ease this conversation with my attempt at humor.