to explain the odd move, she caught sight of two glowing eyes. A few yards away, a cat prowled through clusters of white and pink flowers. An older woman stood at the edge of her lawn, shaking a box of treats and calling to the cat, who ran in her direction at the sound.
“Ooh, a black cat. Another good luck sign. Did you know that Irish sailors often adopted black cats for luck?” Danae paused, then rushed to fill the silence. “There were also all kinds of beliefs surrounding them. Like if they licked their fur against the grain, it meant a hailstorm. Sneezes meant rain, and if the feline was extra frisky that day, it meant wind.” Obviously she was more nervous than she’d realized, because now she was rambling. Amusement filled Josh’s expression, along with a dash of aren’t you adorable. “Again, I’m not superstitious. People make their own luck. With hard work.”
“For someone who’s not superstitious, you sure have a lot of information stored in your brain about good and bad omens.”
Danae dug her toes in the sand, and memories flooded her brain. “My dad was superstitious, especially about sailing.” Fishing was a waiting game, one where it could often be hours between bites, so he’d recite folktales and fables, along with a few stories she was sure were urban legends. “He used to have this chant, too. Everyone thinks that ‘yo, ho, ho,’ came from pirates, but the Song of the Volga Boatmen, which includes the lyrics ‘Yo, heave ho,’ was originally a Russian folksong.”
“Oh, I’m going to need to hear the chant.”
She vehemently shook her head. “No way. I’m getting embarrassed just thinking about it. Luckily, when I was a little kid, I didn’t think about people seeing or hearing.”
“I think we could all use more of that attitude.”
“Says the impulsive guy.”
He shrugged, and she fiddled with the strap of her heels, looping them through her clutch so she only had to focus on carrying one thing. “I like to pretend to be above signs and omens, but apparently my brain stored them simply to mess with me.”
“When clearly that’s my job,” Josh said, taking her hand again, and she flashed a smile at him.
“You’re very good at it, by the way.”
Josh removed his invisible hat and tipped it at her. “Happy to be of service.”
The breeze caught her laugh and tossed it back at her, like a boomerang of joy, although had her laugh always been that high-pitched?
She breached the wet sand and waited as the water rushed forward to lap the shore. Although it seemed to want to stay for longer, it drifted away, taking sand and shell fragments with it, as if it were reluctant to say goodbye but couldn’t stay any longer.
That was how she was beginning to feel every night when she had to say goodbye to Josh. How she felt about the fact that soon this trip would be over, and they’d have to part for even longer. At least now they would have the boat christening to look forward to.
“I wasn’t so sure I believed in luck, either,” Josh said, his voice quiet. Speculative. “But after this trip, I might reconsider my stance.”
Optimism bubbled up, leaving her steps that much lighter. Regardless of how many times her brain told her it was a bad idea to cross lines with the handsome, funny and kind sailor, her heart refused to listen. “Then it’s an extra good thing we scheduled your boat-christening ceremony. From there, your luck’s only going to get better and better.”
This time she got the wide smile with the crinkled eyes. Instead of continuing to question herself, she decided to go ahead and let her heart set the course.
As she’d learned in today’s meeting, sometimes giving yourself room for risk meant a better, brighter plan, with an even more promising future.
Chapter Eighteen
For a guy who wasn’t usually an overthinker, Josh was overthinking his head off.
If that was a thing that could be done. He’d ask Danae, but since she was the object of his hyperactive thoughts, it seemed like a conflict of interest.
Not to mention embarrassing. A grown man afraid of an attractive woman.
Which was ridiculous. What was there even to think about? Perfect nights like this one didn’t come along very often, and much like sailing, they required reacting. Taking risks. Seizing the moment.
After their fingers had accidentally brushed, the urge to hold on had overwhelmed him. So he’d initiated the next contact, capturing her hand