Page 40 of The Best Wild Idea (Off-Limits #3)

As we slowly make our way out to open water, Silas tosses a thin lifejacket to me. I tuck it behind my feet, down under my seat, but he glares at me long enough that I finally pull it over my shoulders and clip the front.

“I’m not going to need this, am I?” I ask.

“I don’t know how good of a swimmer you are,” he says, winking.

I scold my stomach for twisting at that. Of course he’s kidding.

He has to be kidding.

“No really, Si, I’m not going to need this, right?”

“Safety first, babe,” he says, absentmindedly before leaving the motor to hop up on the stern to pull a few more ropes, lengthening a long tether attached to what must be the boom.

Watching him, I can’t help but wonder what other women he’s brought out on this boat. And if he has, did they know how to sail like this?

Silas heaves a rope attached to a pulley system, bringing the enormous sail to life overhead.

The glistening white fabric puffs out and snaps open in the wind.

I immediately feel the weight of the boat lifted up beneath it.

The wooden hull begins slicing through the water as if it were a hot knife cutting through butter.

The water rushes along beside us, deep and dark and blue.

I look back at the harbor, realizing that not only is it starting to get farther away, but it’s leaving us with the most gorgeous view of Cádiz from out on the open sea.

“We’re sailing!” I exclaim, watching Silas as he mans the entire ship himself. We might be a strong word here, I realize.

He hops from one platform to the next, securing a rope while uncoiling another. His brow is furrowed in concentration, studying the sail billowing in the wind. Then he takes the impressive metal wheel in both hands and pushes it left, then straightens us out to the right.

It’s like he’s dancing with the ship in silent concentration. Just the two of them taking up all his thoughts right now, while I’m the outsider watching everything between them unfold. This side of him is serious and stern — something I rarely see in him.

Something, I realize, I want to see more of.

When the ship is finally on a course he seems to be pleased with, he relaxes a bit. His shoulders visibly uncurl beneath his jaw and he rocks his head from side to side, stretching out whatever tension the launch from the dock just caused. Finally, his eyes find mine watching him.

He smiles.

“Need help?” I ask, trying not to look embarrassed about the fact that I’ve just been caught staring at him.

“No,” he says, but his grin stretches wider across his face.

His eyes squint into the sun behind his steel aviators.

He takes them off for just a moment, lifting his face to feel the full heat of it.

When he opens his eyes again, I can see the amber flecks of gold simmering in the sea of green, even from here.

I bite my lip and look out at the sea. The wind hits my face and I inhale into the sunlight, feeling a light spray of saltwater rise up in the air. What is it about this place? It’s like all my stress is melting away in the mist, floating off, as if carried by the breeze.

He was right.

This sailing thing would be too easy to fall in love with. Too easy to never want to return from.

“How do you ever leave this?” I sigh, watching him. “And how often do you get to come back?”

“Not enough,” he says simply, falling serious again. “Come on up here,” he adds, motioning for me to join him. He grasps the wheel with one hand while holding his other arm out to me.

As soon as I stand, he steps forward to cradle me between his elbow and palm, making sure I don’t misstep as the ship tilts to one side. I carefully make the few steps over to the wheel.

“Put your hands at ten and two,” he instructs, placing my hands on it, boxing me in from behind. “Feel that?”

It jerks hard beneath my hands and I grip it tighter, fighting the water churning around the rudder below.

“It’s pushing to the left,” I say, glad his hands are still hanging on to help right next to mine.

“So, pull it to the right,” he tells me, shifting his hands so mine disappear beneath his, guiding them gently but firmly. Together, we pull the ship to the right. It’s only a few inches, but the resistance of the water pulls harder than it did a moment ago.

I lean in and push. He lifts his hands so they’re hovering now just above mine, letting me do all the work myself while balancing on the deck behind me. We’re rushing across the surface of the sea, not touching in any way now, but just having him behind me makes me feel safe. And honestly, happy.

“You’re sailing,” he whispers in that same spot behind my ear, and I’m immediately transported to last night — his lips just below my jaw — right before we began to dance.

“And you’d better not go anywhere,” I say, turning over my shoulder, making sure I can feel his body behind me without having to tear my eyes off the view ahead. “Where are the brakes on this thing in case something jumps out?”

He laughs. “It’s just us out here,” he assures me. “And it’d take a lot to bring ol’ Vivi down, believe me, I’ve had enough time testing her out here to know.”

“Vivi?” I ask, wondering what music icon — or worse, what girlfriend from his past — must have influenced the name choice.

“ Vivian , actually,” he says.

I search my memory for any girls we knew back in college or famous musicians named Vivian.

“Do you name everything you ride on after some random woman?” I ask, nearly shouting above the wind.

He chuckles louder, then sobers enough to answer.

“Vivian was my mother.”

Shit .

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Ignore what I just said.” Of course I’d ruin the nice moment we were having.

How did I not know his mother was named Vivian?

“This boat was my father’s. He’d named it after her. I didn’t know it existed until I learned about it in the will.”

The wheel jerks to the right and I shift it to the left, trying to imagine twenty-six-year-old Silas finding out every detail of his parents’ lives through a long will left to him by his father. Finding out there was a boat he never knew existed with a name he never had the heart to change.

“So, you came out here to see her for yourself?” I ask, twisting my cheek over my shoulder.

“More like I tried to drown myself out here, really.”

I gasp and release the wheel, turning around to face him.

He plants his hands on the wheel, now behind me, while I struggle for balance and try not to fall into his chest.

“You didn’t,” I say, holding his shoulders, finding my sea legs.

“Of course I didn’t.” He cracks a smile. “I’m here, aren’t I? I might have been a mess back then, but no. No part of me was actually trying to drown myself, Jules.”

“Jesus Christ, Si.” I smack him on the chest.

I whip back around and place my hands beside his on the wheel again, but feel him slip away from behind me.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” I call over my shoulder. I’m definitely not secure enough to hold this monster of a wheel all by myself yet.

“You’ve got this,” he answers, shifting to one side, still keeping one hand firm on the wheel, but planting his feet beside me where I can see him, and he can see me.

“I lived on this boat for a month after I found out about it.”

“You what?” The wind whips around my eyes while I study his hardened features, suddenly aware of how little I see his face without a hint of humor in it. “How did I not know that?”

“You didn’t know a lot about me back then,” he says, smiling. “You only saw what I wanted you to see at the time. Which, turns out, was the absolute worst side of me.”

“I had no idea you went and lived on a boat in Spain for a month. Grant never told me.”

“I tried to get him to join me out here, actually.”

I fall silent. That’s the Silas I knew. The one who was reckless. The one who would have pulled Grant away from me for a month without thinking twice about what that might do to me, our jobs, or to our relationship.

“He never mentioned that.”

“Probably for the best,” he says, straightening up. “It left me to wrestle with all the demons I had to wrestle with, but completely alone and without him here to do it for me. That month was the beginning of the end.”

“The beginning of the end?” I repeat. What does that mean?

“Hang on, let me shift a few things,” he says, hopping up on the front of the boat before I can stop him.

“No, wait! I’m not ready to hold this without you,” I yell after him, hoping he can hear me against the wind.

“Yes, you are!” he shouts back, ignoring my plea for him to come back. “Just hold her steady. Exactly like you’re doing!”

I grip the wheel tighter, not allowing it to move even an inch while I watch each step he makes like a hawk.

Tying a rope off here, clipping another over there, shifting the boom to the exact spot he wants it by tying off a pulley after drawing it taut.

Each step is deliberate and smooth, and I can tell he’s done this exact dance with Vivi a hundred times before.

When he’s done, he carefully makes his way back to me, stooping and stepping over and under random ropes and pulley systems until he’s beside me again.

“We’ll anchor her here for a bit. It’s calm enough right now,” he tells me.

“What do I do with this?” I ask, still gripping the wheel like our lives depend on it.

“Lock it in place, so we can go up front.”

A moment later, Silas has my hand, carefully leading me up to the front of the boat.

I hadn’t noticed before, but there’s a dip in the bow, a little cut-out meant to lie or sit back on, it seems. He grips my hand tightly for balance as I make it over to the cushy spot, ready to sink lower when I make it there safely.

We sit down beside each other, and once I’m feeling steady enough, I allow myself to look around.