went on. “Let’s get on the boat and find some alligators.”
I led the way down to the dock, setting her cooler next to mine as we climbed on board. The boat rocked slightly under our shifting weights.
“I’ve never been on a yacht before,” she cooed, picking up the thread of my earlier joke. “I hope it’s safe.”
“Don’t worry. She’s seaworthy.” I hopped back on the dock briefly to untie the ropes, then rejoined her, asking, “Would you like a beer or glass of wine before we get going?”
“A beer sounds good.”
I reached into my cooler and pulled out a Yuengling. Twisting off the cap, I handed it to her. I opened a beer for myself as well, privately celebrating our first drink together.
I held my bottle toward her. “Thank you for coming,” I said. “Cheers.”
She tapped her bottle against mine before taking a small sip. “This is good,” she commented, inspecting the label.
Wasting no time, I moved to the stern and started the engine with a pull of the cord. Back in the cockpit, I increased the throttle and inched away from the dock. I made my way toward the middle of the creek, grateful for the breeze. I could already feel a thin sheen of perspiration beginning to form, but Natalie seemed more than comfortable. She stood at the railing, watching the scenery with her hair fanning out behind her, gorgeous in the sunlight. I found myself admiring her legs before I turned my attention back to steering the boat. Crashing might mar the good impression I’d made earlier, what with the whole tablecloth-and-candles-on-the-porch thing.
We puttered through one wide turn after the next. Housing on either side of the creek gave way to fishing camps dotting only one bank; and after that, nothing but wilderness. Meanwhile, despite my lack of depth perception, I expertly avoided various hazards and would have pointed out my boating mastery to her, but for the ubiquitous presence of neon-colored buoys alerting boaters to keep a safe distance.
After slathering sunscreen on her arms and legs, Natalie joined me in the cockpit.
“This is the first time I’ve gone up Brices Creek,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”
“How can you live here and never come up this way?”
“No boat,” she said. “I mean, I’ve been on the Trent River and the Neuse River with friends, but we never came up this way.”
“I thought you don’t go out much.”
“I don’t,” she said. “Not lately, anyway.”
Though I could have asked her why, I could tell she didn’t want me to. “If you’re hungry, there are some snacks on the table.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine for now. I can’t remember the last time I had a beer, so I’m kind of enjoying this.”
She stared out at the slow-moving black water, clutching her cold bottle and basking in the sun.
“How did you know where to find the alligators?” she asked.
“I overheard some people talking when I had lunch at the Trading Post, so I decided to check it out.”
“I’ve never eaten there.”
“Believe it or not, the food is actually pretty good.”
“I’ve heard that. But it’s kind of far from where I live.”
“Nothing is far away in New Bern.”
“I know, but I spend so much time behind the wheel when I’m on duty that I get sick of driving.”
“You drove here and my place isn’t far from the Trading Post.”
“The Trading Post doesn’t have tablecloths and candles.”
I chuckled. We continued upstream, trees pushing in from the banks, the water ahead as flat as a billiard table. Here and there, we saw the occasional dock, overgrown and rotting, jutting into the creek. Above us, an osprey circled.
Natalie continued to stand beside me, and I had the sense that something had changed between us. Every now and then, she took a sip of her beer and I wondered whether she’d been nervous about our date.
Was she seeing someone else? I still thought it likely, but if that was the case, why had she come today or gone to dinner with me? Because she was bored or unhappy? Or simply lonely? And what was he like? How long had they been going out? It was also possible that she’d just been curious about the alligators and viewed me as a friend, but then why stand so close to me? She knew I was attracted to her. Common sense indicated that asking her to a second dinner in as many weekends meant something more than a desire for simple friendship, yet she’d agreed to meet me again. If she