She’d caught Alyssa mid–head turn, but it was too late. Her friend jerked her eyes back to Louisa’s. “I don’t think he saw me.”
Louisa sighed. He’d definitely seen her. Ally was brilliant, but she was kind of a ditz.
“He’s just a guy, Lou.”
No. He was not “just a guy,” and that was the problem. He was Cody. She’d broken his heart, and he’d saved her life.
But not just that. He’d done it so well. He’d done it in a way that had left her daydreaming about him. She never thought she was the type to want to be saved, but now that she had been, she wondered what other dangerous situation she could put herself in just so they could do it again.
“Are we ready, ladies?” Duncan stood beside them.
Ally glanced at Louisa as if to ask for an answer to the man’s question.
Ally was right. She could do this. She’d done this so many times before. It’s what she did. And she was great at it. She straightened her shoulders and smoothed her dress. “Of course.”
Duncan got the attention of the other men in the room, and the murmurs quieted, all faces turned toward the two women standing at the front. All faces except Cody’s. He seemed intent on staring out the window.
“If you’ve been around Nantucket, you might’ve heard of Louisa Chambers. She’s a private concierge here on the island, and she and Alyssa Martin are here to help us improve our image in the community.”
In the back, a man with dark eyes shifted in his seat. Louisa recognized his face. Aaron Jessup. His photo had been on all the blogs and in the newspaper after Jackson Wirth’s accident. He’d done his job well. But then he’d screwed up.
She knew how that felt.
Nobody asked why they needed to improve their image. It was as if everyone knew, and the tension in the room rose because of it. Charming this crowd definitely wouldn’t be a piece of cake.
“Louisa?” Duncan turned to her as if to hand over an imaginary baton. “You’re up.”
She forced herself to smile, though the nerves pulsing inside her made it very difficult to concentrate. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
Was her voice as shaky as it felt?
Alyssa was passing around the beautiful handout Louisa had made the night before, outlining their ideas for the fundraiser. She stopped and looked at Louisa, a telltale sign that Louisa was not off to a strong start.
Ally gave her a look as if to say, Get it together, and Louisa forced herself to obey.
She closed her eyes for a quick second, drew in a tight breath—a mental reset of sorts—then started in on the pitch she’d practiced.
Within a few minutes, she had the skeptical guardsmen smiling, laughing, and yes, maybe even eating out of the palm of her hand. She was good at this, regardless of whatever XPO Grumpy thought of her. She had a self-deprecating way about her that people appreciated, and given the fact that this crew had saved her life only a week ago, it was easy to make fun of herself.
No matter how much the whole event still haunted her dreams.
“The goal is to increase your visibility in the community,” Louisa said. “To get people to pay attention when you tell them to wear a life vest.” She paused for a ripple of ironic laughter and made a face that let the men know she was their first offender, then continued. “Or to stay off the water. Our plan will foster goodwill on the island, and it will shine a light on the excellent and important work you all do.”
Louisa picked up her iPad and opened it to her presentation notes, then outlined her plan for a Coast Guard–sponsored regatta. A full day on and around the water. The thought of it turned her stomach. Would she ever want to go back in the ocean again? She’d been reminded how brutal and angry it could be.
“The goal is to stack the whole day with activities people will want to participate in. There will be a number of races for serious sailors, as well as a few geared toward young sailors. The entire day will be an opportunity to get you in front of people. We can teach them about water safety, show them what to do if they find themselves in a precarious situation at sea, give tours of the base, that sort of thing.”
“How is that going to make money?” a very young-looking guardsman asked.
“Well, that’s the fun part,” she replied. “There will be an entry fee for anyone who wants to sail, of course, and we’ll have business sponsorships, but what we’re most excited about—and what we think will be the biggest draw—is our ‘Race with a Coastie’ event.”
A mix of reactions from the men in the room.
“Race with a Coastie?” someone asked.
“We’re going to do an auction night,” Louisa said, her confidence dwindling, but doing a decent job of faking excitement.
“So you’re going to auction us off?” a guy in the front row asked.
“Basically, yes,” she said.
“Cool,” the guy said with a grin.
“People in the community will get the chance to bid on you, for lack of a better word,” she said. “The highest bidder wins a chance to race with you on the day of the regatta. The auction will be a completely separate affair. Once the teams are formed, you’ll need to have a couple of practices with your teammate, and then the day of the race, it’s every team for themselves.”
The men began chattering, and Louisa’s nerves started to settle. Then she glanced at Cody and wondered if he was being paid to stand guard at the back of the room. He looked like a bouncer outside a bar, for crying out loud.
The other guardsmen seemed to like the idea, so Louisa let them talk for a minute while she drew in a deep breath and tried to avoid Cody’s gaze. He was watching her now—she could feel it—and it sent electric impulses to every nerve ending in her body. She turned away and took a drink of water.
“What’s the money going to go for?” someone asked.
Louisa set her water bottle down and turned around. Her eyes shot to Cody’s—he likely knew this was a touchy subject for the men in that room. Still, his expression remained unchanged.
“We did a lot of thinking on that, too,” Louisa said, feigning confidence. “We decided the best cause was the family of Jackson Wirth.”
The previously noisy room quieted.
Then a chorus of “You’re kidding” and “What did she just say?” and “Jackson Wirth, the kid in the coma?” echoed throughout the room.
“I know his family has been critical of the Coast Guard,” Louisa said.
“They annihilated us,” one of the guys said. “And all we did was our job.”
In the back, Aaron Jessup crossed his arms over his chest. Okay, she knew this part would be hard. But she believed in her idea.
“Look,” she said. “I understand what it’s like to be criticized and have your name dragged through the mud.”
“Do you, princess?” Aaron said. “Really?”
“Seaman Jessup.” Cody’s tone warned.
Jessup stood. “She doesn’t have any idea what she’s talking about.”
“Sit down, Seaman,” Cody said.
Louisa tried to tell herself he wasn’t defending her—he was doing his job as an officer in the Coast Guard—but it didn’t work. It felt like he was defending her. And that feeling was altogether too warm and fuzzy. A tingle shot up her spine.