“Are we sleeping here tonight?” I asked hopefully.
“No, we’ll stay at the Hampton house tonight.”
My face fell, and he chuckled.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be much more comfortable there.”
I was still looking around in awe. “How do you not just sail away in this?”
“Well, I can’t sail her overnight without at least one other person. You can’t go on autopilot for any long period of time, definitely not long enough to sleep.”
My eyes widened a little. “Am I going to be enough help for you? I’ve never sailed before.”
He grabbed my hand, and I followed him out. “You’ll be plenty of help, if you’re interested. And if not, I can sail her by myself.” He smiled at me over his shoulder.
“How often do you take her out?” I asked as we entered the main room again.
He stopped next to the table and laid his hands on the surface. “A lot more in the summer when everyone is free. I have crew on staff too, for when I want to go on longer trips.” I followed the line of his body — his strong shoulders, the curves of the muscles in his arms and forearms. A book was open in front of him, a map with complex sets of lines, numbers, and markings that I didn’t understand. “These are sea charts, like a key map for the ocean.”
I took a seat and pored over them. “They’re really beautiful. But I have no idea what any of this means. What’s this big compass?”
“That’s the magnetic field for the area.”
“Why on earth would you need to know the magnetic fields?”
“Because the compass doesn’t always point true north. These charts help you navigate the local waters if you’re using a magnetic compass.”
I folded my arms on the table. “How do you know where you’re supposed to be?”
He dragged his finger along the map, stopping at points. “These numbers mark the water depth, and these lines mark the channels. Getting out of the harbor is the hardest part — a lot of traffic and rules to keep everything in order. But once we’re out, we can pretty much go wherever we want.”
I looked over the maps. “This is a little overwhelming.”
He smirked. “That’s why we’re using GPS.”
I laughed. “Wow, Coop. Did you just put all this here for show?”
“Maybe.”
I propped my chin in my hand and smiled up at him. “You’re something else, you know that?”
He stacked up the charts and compasses, taking them around the corner to back them in the small desk built into the wall. “I thought you’d find it interesting. I’m here to show you a good time, which would be complicated by sea charts and math.”
“Yuck. Nobody wants to do math on a Saturday.”
“My point exactly.” He smiled. “The bar, pantry, and fridge are stocked, so help yourself. You ready to go?”
I nodded and slipped out of the bench as he picked up the CB to get clearance from the harbor master, listening to his easy confidence, wondering how many times he’d sailed. He hung up the receiver when he’d gotten word, and we climbed back out into the cockpit.
“Give me just a minute. Make yourself comfortable.” He smiled as he turned the key and pressed the ignition, and the motor came alive with a rumble.
I took a seat as he jumped onto the deck and made his way around the boat with purpose, casting off all the boat lines except the ones in the front and back. He pulled in the bumpers and stowed them before casting off the line in the back, then hopped back on the boat and let the final rope loose, rolling it up and putting it away as he did the others. I watched, fascinated.
I’d found something that Cooper was very serious about.
He gave me a smile, slipping on his sunglasses as he stood behind the wheel and pulled out of the slip, then out of the marina. He turned on music, and I stretched out on the bench, taking it all in. The city passed by us as he navigated through the harbor, past cruise ships and big party yachts, tug boats and towering shipping boats stacked with cargo crates, talking all the while.
“How do you know where to go?” I asked, curious.
“See those buoys? We want to keep the green ones on our starboard — right side — when we’re heading out, just like on the road. When you’re coming in, you keep the red ones on your starboard.”
“How often do you sail?”
I watched the wind ruffle his dark hair. “Whenever I can. A couple of times a month, at least. Even in the winter.”
“Did you have to take classes to learn? Or…”
He smiled at me before looking back to the water. “I’ve been sailing since I was a kid, first with my dad and then sailing school. I was on a team in high school and college, too. There’s just something infinitely satisfying about earning the freedom of the wind in my hair with burning muscles and salt on my lips. It’s addictive.”
“You really love it, don’t you?”
“I really do.”
My heart was all fluttery, thinking about the countless hours he’d spent sailing, thinking about how he was sharing something he was passionate about with me.
He kept talking, and I listened, captivated by the deep timbre of his voice. “This ship is easy to sail, in the way of sailboats. It’s big enough that I can bring people with me, small enough that I can handle it on my own. I have an even smaller one with no automation for when I really want to work for it.”
“So this is your party boat?”
Cooper laughed. “Yeah, this is my party boat. But I sail it alone most of the time.”
“Always alone?”
He smirked at me. “Are you asking if I’ve brought girls onto my boat?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged, pretending to be indifferent.
“A time or two. But like I said, I’m usually alone.”
I knew he meant it in more ways than one. I changed the subject. “So, do you have to chart a course or something? I don’t know what you call it.” I chuckled awkwardly. “Or do you know where to go? Or … I don’t know how any of this works.”
“I’ve sailed to the Hamptons hundreds of times — my dad and I have been making the trip as long as I can remember. But I did chart the course in my GPS. It’s hooked into the autopilot, but otherwise I can watch the screen to stay on track. Just makes it a little easier, less work. So I can enjoy your company.”
I tried to suppress my smile and looked up at the mast. “When can you put the sails up?”
“Not until we’re out of the harbor. It’s not really safe with all the traffic, so we’ll use the engine to get us out into open water and move out of the shipping channel to hoist sail. And then the trip really begins.” His smile sent a rush of adrenaline through me.
I settled back in the seat, hanging my arms on the back of the bench, chin tilted up as we rode past the towering skyscrapers. I watched them all, thinking about the people inside, thinking about who built them, marveling over this city composed of concrete and steel, constructed by millions of men and women over hundreds of years, with sweat and blood and mountains of money. And Cooper and I floated by, just a little speck on the river passing by for a quiet moment in time.
Cooper turned up the radio, and I watched him inconspicuously behind the shade of my sunglasses. His legs were planted firmly on the deck — he was more solid than I’d ever seen him on dry land. I watched his forearms as he turned the wheel, the flutter of tendons and muscles under his tan skin almost hypnotic. The wind blew through his hair, the black shock that somehow stayed out of his face, his jaw under perfectly neglected stubble, set without looking hard. My eyes rested on his mouth, the bow of his upper lip, the swell of the bottom. I knew those lips.
A flash of possession washed over me.
Forget everything from before. Pretend that this is everything there is or ever will be. What do I want?
In that moment, the answer was simple. If you stripped everything away, I wanted him.
Emotion washed over me, and I looked away, pushing away the anxiety as questions filled my head, questions I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know what any of it meant. And for this weekend, I would accept that as all I needed to know.