She silently reminded herself of her vow to stop all this nonsense. She searched her mind for something—anything—other than the truth. “I saw you talking to my dad.”
“This isn’t about your dad,” he said.
“Did you tell him we’re still digging around?”
“Of course not.”
“Promise?” She held up her pinkie like they were ten again. She caught herself and put her hand down. “Sorry. I think I’m just nervous.” What was wrong with her?
He reached over and tugged the buckle on her life vest.
“It’s secure.”
He raised a brow. “Just making sure.”
“I’m good. I’m ready.” She really needed to get control of her emotions. It was as if they had a mind of their own. She turned away and started singing softly. “‘Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tangerine . . .’”
“It’s tambourine,” he said as he moved into place.
She glanced at him. “Tangerine.”
He shook his head and turned away, but not before she caught it—the undeniable smile he was trying to hide. That was enough to fill her up to her toes and put her straight back to where she’d been before—certain she could win him over, make him forgive her, and maybe even convince him he should ditch McKenzie Palmer and run off into the sunset with her.
She willed herself to stop behaving so badly, in spite of the fact that McKenzie was now one boat over wearing a very skimpy red bikini. She tossed a glance toward Cody as Charlie sidled up next to the blonde bombshell blogger, but Cody’s eyes were fixed straight ahead.
“Don’t slack on your job, Chambers,” he called out.
For some unknown reason, she wanted to make him proud. “You got it, skipper!” she called out.
For a brief moment, he tossed a glance at her over his shoulder. She couldn’t help it; she smiled in spite of herself. In spite of her certainty that he and McKenzie were more than friends. In spite of her worry that he would never forgive her. In spite of her inability to stop fantasizing that he might actually feel the same way about her that she felt about him.
To her utter delight, Cody Boggs smiled back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
TO SAY CODY BOGGS HAD A COMPETITIVE STREAK would be a gross understatement. And to say it didn’t completely turn Louisa on would be a lie.
She tried to keep up with him, with the trash-talking between the Coasties, with the wind velocity and the changes in direction. Cody would call instructions out to her, and she’d do as he said, remembering their practice sessions, which had apparently sunk in more than she realized.
They were connected, as if by some strange invisible cord, as if she knew what he was thinking for the first time since he’d returned to the island. This was the kind of link she’d been hoping for, but that had up until this point always remained just out of reach.
They sped out in front of the competition and she glanced back long enough to admire the way he looked right now. His hat hid that curly dark hair, and a pair of sunglasses concealed her favorite brown eyes—but his bronze skin glowed under the light of the sun, and his muscles rippled underneath his gray Coast Guard T-shirt.
“Everything okay?” he called out.
She waved in response—words failed her.
“We’re changing direction. You ready?”
She gave him a thumbs-up and braced herself, determined not to be the space case that cost him this race.
As they took the second half, only one other boat even stood a chance—Charlie Pope and McKenzie Palmer. Of course.
Blondie let out a loud cheer as they pulled ahead, and Cody’s face turned serious. They raced neck and neck, the cheers of the crowd propelling them forward. The wind kicked up and Cody adjusted the sails, shooting a nose in front of the other boat. Louisa stood and cheered as the boat sped out in front, but her movement created enough of a disruption to Cody’s perfectly calculated plan that the other boat passed them just in time to claim first place.
McKenzie and Charlie both whooped and hollered as they sailed swiftly in.
Louisa glanced back at Cody, who stood stone-faced and seemingly unaffected. She turned toward the victors, only to see McKenzie rush straight into Charlie’s arms and plant a kiss square on his mouth.
The kiss turned decidedly PG-13, and Louisa looked away. “Does that bother you?”
Cody tossed a glance toward the make-out session, then shrugged, still maneuvering their boat. “Why would it?”
Louisa faced him now. “I mean, you and McKenzie have been getting close and everything.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“The sunrise? The ‘Still on for tonight?’ Spending the evening at Queequeg’s with her?”
He didn’t stop in front of the yacht club. He sailed on past as if the other regatta attendees didn’t even matter. To some, he might look like a sore loser, but Louisa knew it was something else. Had she upset him?
He didn’t respond for a long time, just sailed them toward the shore, then hopped out and pulled the little boat up onto the beach. She stayed still, feeling like a child about to get a stern talking-to, and she maintained the appropriate level of silence.
He took off his hat and messed up his hair, perfectly disheveled the way only his could be. “Louisa.” He turned away from her.
She hopped out of the boat and walked toward him, the wind tugging strands of hair from her ponytail. “Sorry I said anything.”
Was he upset about McKenzie? She didn’t think it was possible for anyone to like the woman that much, but maybe she was wrong.
“I don’t care about McKenzie,” he said, answering the question she never asked aloud.
“You don’t?”
“No.” He faced her now, but the sunglasses made him hard to read.
“I just thought—”
“You thought wrong.”
She stilled. “Sorry.”
He removed his glasses and hung them on the collar of his shirt. “She wanted to interview me. Duncan thought it would be good publicity.”
An interview . . . ?
“Besides, she’s really not my type.”
“Tiny blondes with perfect bodies aren’t your type?”
His eyebrows shot up and she chewed the inside of her lip, wishing like crazy she hadn’t just said that.
“Nope.” He looked at her with such intensity Louisa had to wonder if he was purposely trying to knock her off-kilter. She searched his eyes for a clue—anything that would let her in on what was running through his mind—but nothing came.
Her guard went up and she told herself not to read into any of this, but oh, how she wanted to. She wanted this feeling to last—this bright-lighted sizzle of electricity, a stronger draw than any she’d ever felt in her life.
But this was Cody. She and Cody were just (barely) friends.
But this was Cody. And she couldn’t ignore the power of that.
“So you have a type?” She dared the question because the silence overwhelmed her.
He took a step closer, eyes still fixed on hers, then reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, and he held the hair safe from the wind.