Page 31 of The Best Wild Idea (Off-Limits #3)
We’ve been racing through the Spanish countryside toward the bay in a blacked-out Bentley limousine for over an hour to get from Seville, where we landed ol’ Gloria, to the coastal town of Cádiz.
The views out my window have been incredible the whole way, but now, as the deep blue of the bay comes into view, I find myself gasping out the window, speechless in the most wonderful way.
If someone had asked me a few days ago, I’d have sworn that nothing could beat Switzerland’s majestic skyline of snow-capped mountain peaks and crystal-clear alpine lakes. However, the medieval architecture of this once tiny village set against the glowing turquoise Bay of Cádiz might tie it.
I open my window to inhale the fresh sea air. It hits my face along with the familiar heat of the sun and I smile to myself that we’ve finally made it. Another bucket list item nearly crossed off.
“You’ve sailed before, haven’t you?” I ask, turning to Silas, who’s sitting beside me, still working on his laptop.
He’s been working the entire trip over to Cádiz, so I’ve been enjoying the scenery in near silence.
There’s a polished walnut console between us where I lean to look out his window next.
“I was on the sailing team at school,” he reminds me, moving his gaze from the laptop screen to the open window.
Years ago, after viewing a race on TV, I’d mentioned to Grant that I’d always wanted to try sailing.
It looked like one of the greatest adventures I could ever imagine — coasting along the water’s surface in a sleek vessel, totally at the mercy of the wind while the team onboard tries to harness it.
However, I never imagined I’d actually get the chance to try it in one of the most picturesque locations in the world.
I figure whoever’s sailing the boat will just set me up with a nice seat on the side, out of the way and hopefully not messing anything up.
But I’m curious whether or not Silas will be sitting with me or participating in pulling ropes and tying off jigs with the rest of whoever’s been hired to take us out on the water.
“Are those boats similar to what we’ll be sailing in tomorrow?” I ask, pointing at a collection of them out on the water.
“Similar enough,” he tells me. “Have you never been on a sailboat?”
I shake my head. He immediately grins.
I grin back at him.
It’s impossible not to when he’s giving me that particular look. It’s similar to the one he gave me last night after telling me about his absurd reoccurring dream. Utterly ridiculous.
“Well, now you’re in for it,” he says, his voice deep.
He pats my knee but I don’t move it away this time. Something about clearing the air between us last night has drawn Silas back into my comfort zone. He might not be exactly who he was before his father’s death, but who could be after a loss like that? I’m starting to understand that now.
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“Just be prepared to fall in love.” His eyes wander. “With sailing,” he adds. “I remember my first time like it was yesterday. It gets in your blood real quick. I’m glad I get to be there for your first time.”
My stomach does a little flip and I go back to staring out the window, soaking up our view. I can’t wait.
When we arrive at the hotel, we finish checking in after being ushered to a separate VIP room just for us. Unlike our accommodations in Switzerland, the flight crew is also staying at this hotel but in a separate wing of the building.
“Here are your separate room keys,” the receptionist says to us, smiling warmly.
“Separate suites?” I ask, throwing eye contact at Silas instead of her.
“I thought that’s what you wanted after your reaction in Interlaken.
..” He trails off, clearly not wanting to repeat the scene I’d thrown at the first hotel.
“I asked Monica to split our reservation up here. I mean, unless you wanted to bunk up with me again, in which case—” He winks at me with a smirk instead of finishing the sentence.
I hold up my hands, catching the laughter in the attendant’s eyes.
“No, that’s perfect,” I tell them both, quickly. I’m shocked that something in me wishes he was going to be right outside my door again instead of possibly down the hall or on another floor entirely. But this is a much better arrangement. “Thank you for listening, and for making the swap.”
“You sure?” he asks, studying me closely when he slides my key across the counter, before pocketing the other one meant for him.
“I’m sure,” I tell him. “And the letter?” I ask, turning back to the woman behind the counter.
She hands me a stiff envelope bearing Grant’s handwriting across the front.
The reason we’re here at all.
Just the sight of it makes my heart thump harder. This one has fared better than the other two, looking nearly as crisp and white as the day it was written. I hold it up to my chest, exhaling deeply before turning back to face Silas again.
“You doing room service tonight, then?” I ask, sarcastically.
“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, Jules.” His voice is tight, like something in him just shifted from a moment ago.
I clench the letter tighter.
“Join me back down here in one hour, or I’m coming to find you,” he adds, smiling gently. He eyes the letter tucked to my chest and rubs a quick circle around my back with his knuckle, adding a bit of unspoken empathy to his words.
I’m here for you, if you need me.
The whole thing makes me laugh quickly — crisply — then for some odd reason, tear up. His hand pressed to my back like that.
I’ve missed this version of him, the friend he’d been to me, so much. The one who used to give me a load of sarcasm and crap, but was so intensely there for me, always, and without hesitation. It’s no wonder that the loss of him during a time I needed him the most felt nearly unbearable.
“In that case,” I tell him, “stand by.”
He leans in and plants a firm kiss on the top of my head, the letter crunching between us.
“Just call if you need me to come up.”
I nod.
He pulls back and starts off toward his room.
“One hour, Jules!” he calls out over his shoulder before turning the corner down the hall toward his side of the hotel.
Then I take off toward my own room, the unopened letter still clutched in my hand.