Return to Magnolia Harbor - Hope Ramsay Page 0,104
you up to this?”
She shook her head. “No. Of course not. I was watching you sail, and, well, you seem to know what you’re doing out there.” A telltale blush crawled up her cheeks as she talked a mile a minute. She was a Yankee, all right, from Boston. He didn’t need the Red Sox T-shirt to tell him that either. She had a broad Boston accent. She must be here soaking up the last of the summer sun before going back north.
She’d be gone in a week.
“I don’t give sailing lessons,” he said in a curt tone and then checked his watch. He really needed to go.
“Oh. Okay. I’m sorry I bothered you,” the woman said in an oddly wounded tone. Her shoulders slumped a little as she started to turn away.
Damn.
He’d been rude. And stupid too. If she really wanted sailing lessons, it was an opportunity to earn a few extra bucks doing the thing he loved most. Barrier Island Charters could use all the income it could get this time of year. “No, uh, wait,” he said. “How many sailing lessons do you want?”
She stopped, midturn. “I don’t know. How many would it take?”
“To do what?”
“Learn how to sail? On my own, you know.”
“No one sails by themselves. I mean, even in a small boat like Bonney Rose you need a crew.”
“Oh?” She frowned.
“Unless you’re learning on an Opti or a Laser. But I don’t have an Opti or a Laser.”
The frown deepened. “Oh.”
“Optis and Lasers are one-person boats. They capsize. A lot.”
“Oh.”
“If you want to learn on a bigger boat, you know, with a keel, you should check out the group courses in Georgetown.”
“What’s a keel?” she asked, cocking her head a little like an adorable brown-eyed puppy.
He fought against the urge to roll his eyes. “A keel boat has a…Never mind. It’s bigger and more comfortable. And safer.”
“Okay, then I want to learn how to sail the other kind. Does Bonney Rose have a keel?”
“No. She has a centerboard.”
“Perfect.” Her mouth broadened.
“I’m not a certified teacher. In Georgetown, you can—”
“So you’ve already said. But I’m not interested in group classes in Georgetown. I don’t want that kind of thing. I want to learn how to take risks. Live on the edge. Sail fast.”
“Look, sailing can be dangerous, and I don’t do thrill rides.”
She folded her arms across her chest, her eyebrows lowering a little and her hip jutting out, the picture of a ticked-off female. “I’m not looking for a thrill ride.”
“No?” He gave her his best levelheaded stare.
She blushed a little. “Okay. I know nothing about sailing. But I want to learn.”
“Go to the sailing school in Georgetown.”
“Is that where you learned?”
Damn. She had him there. He’d learned from one of the best sailors on the island. He shook his head.
“Okay. So, can you give me the name of your teacher?”
“No. My teacher is retired now.”
“Oh.” She seemed crestfallen. Damn.
He checked his watch again and huffed out a breath. He was going to be late to the meeting. “Okay, look, I don’t know if I’d be any good teaching you how to sail, but if you want to charter Bonney Rose for a couple of hours, the going rate is two hundred fifty an hour.” That should shut her up. Judging by her worn-out flip-flops and threadbare camp pants, she didn’t look like someone who could afford that kind of rate.
Her face brightened. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
She nodded. “Tomorrow?”
Damn. “Yeah. I guess. At the public pier. Four o’clock.” He turned away before she could argue.
“Hey. Wait,” she called as he scooted down the boardwalk.
He didn’t wait.
“Hey. Don’t you even want to know my name?” she hollered at his back.
He turned around and backpedaled. “Why? I’ll recognize you if you show up tomorrow. Oh, and bring cash.”
About the Author
Hope Ramsay is a USA Today bestselling author of heartwarming contemporary romances set below the Mason-Dixon Line. Her children are grown, but she has a couple of fur babies who keep her entertained. Pete the cat, named after the cat in the children’s book, thinks he’s a dog, and Daisy the dog thinks Pete is her best friend except when he decides her waggy tail is a cat toy. Hope lives in the medium-sized town of Fredericksburg, Virginia, and when she’s not writing or walking the dog, she spends her time knitting and noodling around on her collection of guitars.