Sailing at Sunset - Cindi Madsen Page 0,4

always took a second or two of grinding before clicking into place. The muscles in Josh’s arms burned as he turned, fighting the push of the water to aim the bow toward home.

“The entire boat is gorgeous. I still can’t believe you did all the work yourself.” Mrs. Rivera ran a hand over the wooden trim he’d added to the seats that no one would’ve wanted to sit on when he’d first bought the ship. Then she scooted closer to her husband and wrapped an arm around his waist. “This trip went by way too quickly. It’s been so lovely; I almost don’t want it to end.”

The Riveras were on the last day of their week-long honeymoon cruise, a tour that had included stops at Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket, and Padanaram. While both of them had been married and divorced before, they’d found each other in their late fifties.

“You’ve been such a great guide, Josh,” Mrs. Rivera said. “We’ll absolutely be referring our family and friends—they were all so jealous of our trip.”

Josh gave the couple a genuine smile. He’d had a lot of fussy clients in his day. The Riveras were a pleasure to have onboard. They kissed and hugged like teenagers, but that had given Josh plenty of time to stare out at the open water and be alone with his thoughts.

“This last week and a half has been perfect.” Mr. Rivera lifted his wife’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “From the moment the preacher declared this beautiful woman mine, to have and to hold, to frolic on the sandy shores with—that’s right.” Mr. Rivera’s grin widened. “I said frolic.”

Mrs. Rivera giggled, and a blush pinkened her cheeks. During the trip, they’d gone on and on about how this time around everything was so different, so much better. They knew who they were and what they wanted, and that was to spend every day with one another.

Nice to see, but Josh had been down the aisle before. After his divorce had been finalized almost three years ago, he’d vowed never again, and he planned on sticking to that.

The Atlantic Ocean was his beloved, and he had devoted himself to her for the rest of his life. Nothing hammered in that commitment like quitting his high-paying, stress-inducing job and selling his house and most of his belongings to buy a 1970s fixer-upper sailboat.

Now, at the ripe old age of forty, he got to set his own schedule and actually live his life, and that was worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears. He pushed his tousled chestnut hair off his forehead and rubbed his stubbled cheeks. It was nice not having to shave every day, but he kept himself in good shape—a solitary life at the helm of a somewhat creaky boat made sure of that.

After sinking his savings into restoring this sailboat to full glory, he’d bestowed the name Solitude on her. He set the wheel, silently praising his mighty ship for how well she glided through the Atlantic. She looked dang good doing it, too.

Maybe that made Solitude—the boat and the term—his soulmate, and the ocean their blissful path. His life finally belonged to him. He never had to wear a suit and tie again, he set his own routine, and if the mood hit him, he could sail to Florida or Puerto Rico on a whim. His backyard could change every day.

His phone chimed, and he fished it out of his pocket. The Riveras were canoodling, and he wanted to give them as much privacy as possible. Although they’d seemed to forget anyone else existed, anyway.

Before Josh even opened his inbox, he suspected it would be Danae Danvers, Chief Marketing Officer at Barton Boats.

She’d been sending emails since last Thursday.

The first had led him to believe she had some personal vendetta against knots. She’d told him “The knot workshop is unnecessary and should be replaced with a brainstorming session.”

Slightly bored one night as he’d been waiting for his clients to return from dinner, Josh had typed a reply: “Don’t worry. It’s knot as hard as it looks.”

The joke had clearly flown over her head, as the next morning she’d replied with, “I assure you, I have all the knot knowledge I need.”

Since Josh couldn’t help himself, he’d asked, “What about your team? How aware are you of their knot-itude?”

“NOT enough to have a whole class on it. I’m more worried about keeping the trip positive and productive.” Danae had then asked for his credentials and experience,