before he could, she cleared her throat and charged on.
“It was a long time ago. And I’m fine. But not only did my father live on the edge of his means, he was in debt. Creditors didn’t care that he wasn’t around anymore or that we were grieving. There wasn’t any grace period. My mom and I just had to start working like crazy.”
Danae glanced at the metal platform under their feet, sniffed, and attempted a smile that was on the watery side. “Anyway, that’s why I have conflicting feelings about those memories of sailing out on the water with him, even though I wouldn’t give them up for the world. And hey, they came in handy today, so…” She scraped at the rust on the railing with her thumbnail.
“I get that,” Josh said. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry about your divorce.”
Somewhat naively, he’d been sure the statistic would never apply to him—not after witnessing his parents’ happy relationship and being a big believer in romance himself. That was why it was dangerous to put too much into plans.
“It happens, I guess. It was years ago, so it’s water under the bridge, as they say.” Now he was the one fiddling, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Searching for a subject change. “I’ve had a couple of co-captains who could learn sailing skills from you. Normally I have to do a lot of micro-managing. Possibly because I’m as controlling about my ship as you are about your planner. And your sticker collection.”
She patted her bag. “Are you still fishing for a gold star, Mr. Wheeler?”
While he’d corrected Mark for calling him mister, he found he liked it more than he should when it came from Danae. “I’ll get one yet.”
Danae straightened and flipped her hair dramatically. “We’ll see.”
Yes. Yes, they would.
Chapter Eight
“I don’t understand why it’s called deep-sea fishing when it’s technically deep-ocean fishing,” Danae said to Josh, as he handed her a fishing pole. She’d told him to go ahead and get everyone else started. Not because she was super benevolent or anything. They’d just had such a nice afternoon, so she was delaying the moment when Josh would discover that her fishing skills weren’t nearly as impressive as her sailing skills.
Josh squatted and unlatched his tackle box. “I don’t understand how you think you’re gonna catch dinner if you keep yapping instead of casting. And technically, we’re in the spot where the Atlantic meets Buzzards Bay, and they refer to it as a saltwater fisherman’s paradise. Now”—Josh waved a hand across the top row of segmented squares, like a model on TV who showed audience members what they could win—“what bait would you like to use?”
“The floral-scented kind. Ooh, do you have any that are pink and sparkly?”
Josh gave her an unamused glower that amused her to no end.
She squatted next to him and studied the funky lures. “Ew. Those squid look too real.”
“That’s because they are—I picked them up on the island. Don’t they smell like actual squid?”
Danae pinched her nose shut and breathed out her mouth. “Yes, yes they do.”
“I thought you were an avid fisherman.”
The ponytail she’d pulled her hair into after climbing back onboard swished from side to side as she shook her head.
“I have fished.” She placed a hand on her chest and transitioned into her narrator voice for reasons she couldn’t explain. “Many moons ago, when it meant sitting next to my dad, fishing line in the water as we went through a six-pack.” She flashed Josh a smile. “Of soda. But I’m much better at sailing—I’d actually leap at the chance to adjust the sails so that I didn’t have to watch my pole for a while. I’ve never had the patience to be an avid fisherwoman.”
“Let me guess. It bothers you that fish don’t keep a tight schedule.”
The insanely handsome fisherman in front of her got the scowl he deserved. “I mean if one of them has ‘get caught’ in their planner and needs to check it off, I’d love to help them out. But considering paper disintegrates in water…”
Josh snagged the end of her line and swung in front of his face. Then he formed a loop. “That’s it. You get a deep diving crank.” He fastened a plastic fish to the end of her line. “Tonight, I’m going to teach you patience.”
“Doubtful. Also, your threat about needing to catch my own dinner doesn’t scare me, FYI. Not only do I have the