“Right. They started dating over the winter and just got engaged a couple weeks ago. He’s a single dad of three girls that Frannie absolutely adores. They’re perfect for each other and totally in love. I think she wants to get married this fall.”
“Wow. That’s fast.”
She looked over at me with mischief in her grin. “That’s kind of the way it’s supposed to be, Oliver. You get engaged so you can get married.”
Somehow I had veered into dangerous territory, and I tried to back out of it. “Can I borrow your sunscreen? I think the back of my neck is getting burned.”
“Sure.” She grabbed a can of SPF 30 from a side pocket of her pack. “Want me to do it?”
“Okay.” I turned around and let her spray me, hoping she’d forget about the topic of engagement.
Nope.
“So whatever happened to your fiancée?” she asked as we started moving again. “What was her name? Alice? Ellen?”
“Alison.”
“Alison. Right.” When I didn’t say more, she poked again. “So where’s Alison now?”
“In Chicago, I assume. With her new husband.”
Chloe stopped walking. “She left you for someone else?”
“No. I broke it off.”
“Why?”
“Because it was never going to work. I wasn’t who she thought I was,” I said, continuing to move along the path.
Chloe hurried to catch up. “Who did she think you were?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that without giving everything away. “Probably my brother Hughie.”
She snorted. “So she wanted someone stuffy and predictable?”
“She wanted a certain kind of life. She wanted to get married, quit her job, and move into a house like Hughie and Lisa’s, where she’d have a housekeeper, chef, and personal trainer at her fingertips.” I stared at the ground as we walked for a moment. “When we first started dating, I think she hoped I’d play around with the distillery for a while and then get serious and go to work for Pemberton. Join the country club. Buy a yacht. I could tell she felt let down when that didn’t happen. Also, she told me so constantly.”
“She sounds really fucking terrible, Oliver. You should be glad you’re not married to her.”
“Believe me, I am.”
“Why’d you propose to her in the first place?”
I kicked a rock on the path. “She said it was time. My parents said it was time. My grandmother said she wasn’t getting any younger. And my brother made me feel like I was a fuckup. I guess I was trying to show them I wasn’t.” I was silent for a moment. “But as it turns out, I was.”
She elbowed me. “Stop. You’re not a fuckup.”
“No?”
“No,” she scoffed. “You’ve got everything, Oliver. A successful business, a great family, probably a cool apartment and a million friends. You made the right decision by not marrying the wrong person, you give back by teaching sailing to underprivileged kids, and you’re even marginally attractive. What about that says fuckup?”
I laughed, giving her the side eye. “Marginally attractive, huh?”
“Sure. I mean, you could use a haircut, and your gut could be all soft and flabby for all I know, but objectively speaking, I’d say you’re okay.”
“Gee, thanks. But I assure you …” I cut her off and stood directly in front of her so she walked right into my chest. I had to grab her arms to keep her from falling backward. “There’s nothing soft and flabby about me. Feel free to check.”
She glanced down at the space between our bodies and then met my eyes again. Her cheeks colored slightly. “I’ll take your word for it. Let’s keep going.”
13
Chloe
NOW
After seeing the partially submerged wreck of the Morazan, we hiked through a grove of giant cedars and continued along the trail that led up onto the bluffs along the western shore of the island. The wind was strong but the sun was blistering hot, and the blue water of Lake Michigan glittered beckoningly. I was sweltering—and every time I thought about slamming into Oliver’s broad chest, I felt hotter.
I needed to cool off.
“What do you think?” I asked Oliver. “Do we have time to go down and swim before we head over to the farm?”
He checked his wristwatch. “Yeah. We’re good.”
Carefully, we made our way down to the water, and ditched our packs, boots, hats, sunglasses, and clothing on the sand. I pulled out my tube of facial sunscreen again, reapplied to my face, then took out the can. “Hey, can you spray my back?” I asked him.
“Sure.” He took the can and did as I asked, and I wondered if he was looking at my butt or keeping his eyes where they belonged.
“Thanks,” I said when he was done. “Now let me spray you or you’re going to be in pain all night long and you’ll keep me up with your complaining.”
He rolled his eyes but allowed me to spray his back and shoulders before he took the can again and sprayed his chest and face.
“Oliver! You’re not supposed to spray that on your face, I have a better one for that,” I scolded.
“What’s the difference?” He tossed the can onto the sand, then took off running toward the water. “Race you! Last one in’s a rotten egg!”
“No fair, you had a head start!” I yelled as I followed close behind. The water was freezing, and I squealed as I rushed in waist-deep.
Oliver dove under first, and before he came up, I took a second to make sure my bikini top was properly in place before dunking myself. When I popped up, he was right there grinning at me, his hair sticking out in all directions.
“I win,” he announced.
I splashed him. “Not everything has to be a competition. If we’re going to be partners, we need to work better together.”
“You’re right,” he said, surprising me.
I squinted at him. “Did the cold water freeze your brain or something?”
“Not at all.” He stood up, the water hitting him at the top of his shorts, which hung a little lower than they had before. “I just agree with you that we need to put our usual differences and competitive streaks aside. We’re a team now.”
I tilted my head. “I guess we are.”
“Does that mean your answer is yes? You will go into business with me?”
I was tempted to say yes right then and there. Oliver had something with this whole Russian rye angle, and I was eager to jump on board. But I’d eagerly jumped on Oliver’s board without thinking before, and it had not ended well for me. Although truth be told, he looked so good standing there, the sun glinting off his wet skin, his blue eyes bright, water droplets running down his washboard abs to the top of his V lines … for a moment, I’d have jumped aboard anything he wanted me too.
But I caught myself. I wasn’t that girl anymore. “I’m still thinking.”
“What are you thinking about?”
I realized I was still staring at his abdomen and lifted my eyes to his. He was grinning. He’d so caught me staring at his nether regions.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, ducking under the water up to my neck. My nipples were hard.