Brothers of Paradise Series

“Yes,” he says, his voice growing patient. “I’ve been disagreeing with my dad since the day I was born. I came early, and he didn’t make it to the hospital in time. We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”

“He’s an idiot, then.”

Henry’s smile widens. “He’s difficult,” he qualifies. “Sometimes a complete asshole. But he taught me how to sail, how to work hard. How to build stuff. And if you ask any of my siblings, they’ll be the first to tell you I’m the favorite.”

“I imagine that wasn’t always easy.”

“Mhm,” he says. “No, I suppose it wasn’t.”

The mood has turned serious, and I smile again, wanting to see his own in response. It’s become addicting, drawing out those rare smiles of his. “So if I’m not here for moral reasons… why?”

He chuckles, and the hands on my waist tighten. “You won’t take my answer at face value, will you?”

“No. It’s clearly not because I’m inconvenient, since you didn’t want to sleep with me yesterday. I was determined not to mention it, but here I am, bringing it up.”

He smiles crookedly, and my heart does a pathetic little dance in my chest. “That’s what you thought? Faye, I wanted to. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“Hmm. Really?”

“Oh yes.” He ducks his head, pressing a salty kiss to my lips. I cling to him fiercely, and he pulls me closer, our bodies molded together under the surface.

“I could kiss you forever,” he murmurs, pushing my mess of wet hair back, “but I know that I shouldn’t.”

“Hmm. You’re good at not doing things you want to do.”

He laughs. “Yes. You asked me for my workout routine, Faye, but it’s this. It’s me doing things I don’t want to do, day after day.”

I slide my hands up his shoulder, coming to rest around his neck. “That’s not a very fun way to live.”

“No, but it gets things done.” He releases me and flips on his back, starting a slow paddle toward the boat. “It also helps keep me from making a mistake.”

Because sleeping together would be a mistake. It’s something I already know, but I’ve desperately been trying to forget.

When we finally climb on board the Frida, I stretch out on deck. The sun is hot and my bikini small-it shouldn’t take long to dry. Next to me, Henry is wringing out his hair with a towel, but he stops and looks me over. With my sunglasses down, it’s easy to pretend I don’t see his heated perusal.

“I should never have hired you,” he mutters, and something dark flips in my stomach. Yes, I think, even though that would mean my career was over. You shouldn’t have.

On our way back, Henry shows me how to hoist the main sail. He teaches me how to tie a clove hitch knot with strong, assured hands. And then he cuts the engine, and we’re cleaving the water silently, just us and the waves and the sun. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything better.

Henry sits next to me on the helm. “You like it?”

“Sailing?”

“Yes.”

I can tell my answer is important to him, that he’s sharing something he loves with me. “Yes. It’s peaceful. I feel like it’s just us and the ocean, the coves, nature… and there are no rules.”

“Not many,” Henry says. “We do have to follow the laws of the sea.”

“Why do you like it?”

“Sailing?”

“Yeah.”

He reaches over to flick a strand of hair back from my shoulder. Its drying in large waves, the salt bringing out a few curls. His eyes, normally reserved, are green pools of emotion.

“My mind goes quiet when I’m at sea,” he says. “There are no goals or plans. Everything about shore life fades away, and there’s just stillness. We’ve been doing this for millennia, you know.”

“Sailing?”

“Yes. A sailor from two thousand years ago could command this vessel just fine.”This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“I’ve never thought about it that way.”

His small smile is back, a curve of his lips. My heart, already in danger of falling entirely for him, does a little flip. “I’m glad I could share it with you.”

“I’m glad you did, too. Even if you didn’t warn me about the water temperature.”

“And miss out on your reaction? Never.”

We sail back in comfortable silence, the sun beating down on us, the waves lulling me into a state of bliss. Under his guidance, I help steer, and he laughingly calls me captain. The marina eventually comes back into view and we have to roll down the main sail. I feel a pang of sadness when he turns on the motor again and the beautiful silence is replaced by the dull sound of it churning. He sees it in my eyes and smiles.

“You get it,” he says. “I knew you would, you know.”

We anchor along the dock and he shows me yet another knot, this time to secure the boat against the constant rocking of the waves.

“Let’s stay here for a bit,” I say on impulse. “At the dock. We don’t have to go back yet, do we?”

Henry doesn’t protest, sitting down on the weathered dock. “Not yet.”

We bask in the late afternoon sunshine and the sound of waves. It’s almost like being at sea, without the constant to-do-lists and things to accomplish.

Henry has closed his eyes, leaning back on the dock, and I take the opportunity to study him.

He’s a hardass, an impossible man, an enigma in expensive suits. And he’s a man, sitting next me in an old sailor’s sweater and a faint smile on his face. His skin has already begun to tan from the day outside, with the ease of skin that’s long been exposed to the sun. I can imagine his younger self clearly, a carefree smile against tan skin and thick brown hair. Green eyes alight with laughter. He’s so handsome, so beautifully out of reach, that I can’t tear my eyes away.

Henry doesn’t open his eyes. “You’re staring at me.”

“No, I’m not.”

He opens one eye. “Yes, you are. See? I always win.”

“This isn’t a competition.”

He leans back on his hands, eyes closed again. “Everything is a competition.”

Is it?