Do You Take This Daddy?. Katie Meyer
got a deal.” She took the bags from him and dumped ice into a cooler located under yet another seat, stowed the drinks, and then put the frozen bags of bait in the now clean bait wells. “No ice on these. We want them to thaw a bit so we can use them. If we were using live bait, we could fill these compartments with seawater, and then turn on the air pump to keep the water oxygenated.”
“So noted. Drinks and bait separate, and live bait should be kept live.” He leaned his weight against the tall captain’s chair, enjoying watching Mollie work. “So what’s next?” She was an excellent teacher, and he was definitely an eager student.
“Next you get out of my seat so I can start the boat.” She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow, and even that contact was enough to have his body reacting in ways that were not particularly appropriate. Glad he’d worn baggy shorts, he eased past her, careful not to let their bodies touch.
She inserted a normal looking key attached to a bright orange foam keychain and the engine rumbled to life. “We’ll let it idle for a bit while I text my dad our float plan. Then we’ll untie the lines and be on our way.”
“Float plan?”
“It’s like a flight plan, but for boating. Whenever any of us go out, we let someone know when we are leaving, where we plan to go and when we should be back.”
“That’s smart of you.” He relaxed a bit; he should have known she’d take the proper precautions. As impulsive as she claimed to be she also had a level head on her shoulders.
Mollie stared for a minute before seeming to accept his compliment at face value. “Thanks. All right, now, time to cast off. I’m going to untie this line, if you want to get the other one.”
Pleased that she’d given him a job, no matter how small, he carefully unwound the rough rope from the anvil-shaped metal cleat bolted to the dock. As soon as he was done, Mollie pushed off, freeing the small craft from its moorings before returning to the captain’s seat. A minute later they were slowly motoring out of the marina towards the Intracoastal Waterway.
Looking back at Mollie, a peaceful smile on her face, the breeze blowing her hair as she effortlessly steered the boat through the channel, he couldn’t help but think it might not be just the fish in danger of being hooked.
* * *
Mollie focused on steering the boat down the center of the channel, pretending that whatever this feeling was that sparked around Noah was nothing more than the normal response to being around someone as famous as him. Of course, it, whatever it was, had started before she’d known his identity. Which would mean it was something else entirely, something more primitive, more basic.
She certainly felt more primal, more aware of her own body around him. Cutoffs and a tank top had never felt so revealing, not that he’d done or said anything inappropriate. He was sticking to the terms of her agreement, but that didn’t stop the air from almost crackling when they touched. Not that she planned on touching him again, but the boat was only so big and casual contact was hard to avoid.
“What’s that?” Noah broke into her musings, pointing to a large wooden platform perched atop a post at the water’s edge.
“A nesting platform. The power company builds them for the osprey, to try to keep them from nesting on utility poles. If you keep an eye out, you should see a few with actual nests on them. The ospreys around here are a bit unusual in that they don’t migrate, so the breeding season goes on all year.”
“They live in Paradise, literally.” He gestured out over the clear water towards the picturesque sandy shore. “I wouldn’t want to migrate, either. What could be better than this?”
“Adventure? New things, new places, new people? Stores that stay open past nine p.m.?”
“Whoa, where did that come from?” Noah’s eyes crinkled in concern, his lazy slouch against the railing belying the edge beneath his words. “I thought you loved this place. Isn’t that why you’re showing me around? So I can see how great it is?”
Mollie bit back a defensive retort; it wasn’t Noah’s fault she felt so conflicted. Taking a few deep breaths of the salty humid air, she tried again. “I do love it here. I can’t imagine a better place to grow up, or anywhere else ever being home.”
“But?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
“But I want more!” She felt her cheeks heat at the outburst. Great, now she sounded like a spoiled brat. “That sounds awful, doesn’t it?”
He grinned. “Not awful. Just sounds like you have a bit of wanderlust, that’s all. Nothing wrong with wanting to travel a bit, strike out on your own.”
“You get it.” He put her rambling thoughts into words so easily it was like he could read her mind. “My family, my friends... They think I’m crazy to want to leave, I don’t even have anywhere in particular I want to go. I guess I just don’t want to end up tied down like my mom did.”
Noah waited for her to explain, not pushing, but letting her know he was listening if she wanted to share. Funny how it was so much easier to talk about this stuff with a near-stranger than her friends.
“My mom was a dancer, a talented one. She had a chance to go to New York and dance with a major company. I’ve seen the newspaper clippings, the old programs—she has a whole scrapbook full. She could have been famous.”
“What happened?”
“She met my dad.” And that had been the beginning of the end when it came to her mother’s dancing career. “They fell in love, one thing led to another and a year later she had a ring, a mortgage and a baby. By the time I came along, she had given up on it completely. Once Dani and I were old enough for school, she started working at my father’s law office as a secretary. She’s never done anything else.”
“Does she regret leaving dance?”
“She says she doesn’t.” Mollie shrugged. What else could she say? That she wished she’d never given up her career to have kids? Not exactly something you could tell your daughter. “She says she’s happy, that having a family was always her real dream.”
“But that’s not what you want.” It was a statement, not a question.
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I ever will. I’m not like her. I can’t even think about it. I want some adventure in my life, a chance to test my limits, make my mark on the world. I can’t do that if I never leave the island.”
“So then go, chase your dreams.”
“What, just pick up and leave? Now?”
“Why not?” he challenged.
“Because...I’m not ready yet. I’m going to leave, at some point. But right now there’s school, and my job, my family—”
“Those are excuses, not reasons.” She started to argue, but he held up a tanned hand, silencing her. “You could apply to school somewhere else, transfer your credits. Or take a semester off. There are jobs everywhere. And your family, assuming everyone is in good health, isn’t going to wither up and die if you leave the zip code. As far as I can see, there’s nothing keeping you here, assuming you really want to leave, that is.”
“Of course I do.” Didn’t she? She wasn’t making excuses; she was waiting for the right time.
“Then trust me. Just do it. Do whatever it is that makes you happy, that makes you whole.”
He made it sound so easy. “Is that what you’re doing?”
He was silent for a moment. Maybe she was getting too personal, too heavy, but he’d started it. Hadn’t he?
“I don’t know.” His eyes were clouded, as if he were seeing something other than the water and mangroves around them. “In some ways I always have, if only out of self-preservation. There