But Liam is mysterious. “You’ll see,” is all he says, so I get in the car beside him, and hope it’s not a five-mile hike he has in mind. But soon we arrive at a marina not far from town, the midday sun glinting on the water and the salty breeze ruffling my hair. “Wait a minute,” I say, following him over to the jetty. “You just happen to have a boat docked here?”
Liam shakes his head. “Not exactly,” he says, “although that would have been neat, wouldn’t it?” He winks—Liam Sterling! Winking! What has gotten into this guy? “Wait here.”
I clutch our bag full of treats, squinting through my sunglasses as he heads over to chat with the harbormaster. And I’ll say this for the guy: he knows how to turn on the charm when it really counts. Five minutes later, he’s waving me over to a gorgeous sailboat. “Money talks, huh?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief as I climb aboard.
Liam laughs, bashful. “Something like that.”
The deck of the boat is beautiful, all glossy wood and bright white cushions for lounging. But let’s face it, we could be on a broken-down dinghy, and I wouldn’t care. I tie my hair back with a scarf and get myself settled as Liam hoists the sails, nimble fingers moving over the knots in a quick, practiced way that makes me wonder just what else he can do with those hands.
I clear my throat. “Are guys like you just born knowing how to do that?” I ask, only half-kidding.
“Guys like me?” Liam asks, straightening up as we glide out into open water.
I grin. “Rich guys.”
He laughs. “I didn’t grow up rich,” he reminds me. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Harry made sure we had everything we needed, but my mom is a crystal-loving hippie from Berkeley. It was more organic tofu and morning meditation than polo at the country club.”
That stops me. “Really?” I can’t picture it, and it must show on my face, because Liam grins.
“Yeah, yeah. My mom has no idea where I came from, either.” He ducks his head, bashful. “Anyway, it was a good childhood. But it wasn’t like…” he trails off.
“Like Betsy and Bryce?” I supply.
“Exactly.” Liam nods. “Anyway, I learned to sail in college for fun. Turns out it’s a good way to impress girls.”
“Oh yeah?” I raise my eyebrows. “Do I look impressed?”
“You look beautiful,” he says, no hesitation at all. I blush, but by the time I manage to look up again, he’s focused on the sails again, his back turned.
Still, I can’t keep the smile off my face.
It’s a perfect day to be out on the ocean, sunny and not too hot, and I tilt my face up to catch some rays as Liam steers us through the calm, clear water. There’s a part of me that can’t entirely relax, that’s dying to know what’s going on here—but, I remind myself again, this isn’t a book I’m editing. Maybe I don’t need to make sure that the plot progresses tidily, in a linear fashion. Maybe, just for this afternoon, I can let the story unfold however it will.
“Thirsty?” Liam asks, holding up the six-pack of cheap beer he grabbed to go with the lobster rolls. It’s not what I would have expected him to choose, but when I say as much he only shrugs. “I told you,” he says with a smile, popping the top and handing me a chilly can. “I didn’t grow up rich.”
“But you still appreciate a nice sailboat on occasion?” I tease.
“I mean, I’m not an animal.” He grins, but it falters a little bit. “Anyone can appreciate a nice sailboat, right? I don’t know.”
I look at him carefully, taking a thoughtful sip of my beer. “Sometimes it seems like you’re not totally comfortable in their world,” I venture. “Bryce and Betsy’s, I mean. Is that fair to say?”
Liam nods. “It’s more than fair,” he admits with a shrug. “It’s weird, being a Sterling but not actually being a Sterling. I feel like I have all this privilege, but not only did I not grow up in that world, I didn’t even do anything to earn it.”
“Seriously?” Right away, I laugh. “What did Betsy and Bryce do, exactly? I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re perfectly nice people, but you’re the one busting your ass to try and save your dad’s company. You’re working harder than anyone. You’ve earned it more than anyone.”
I surprise myself, and I think I surprise Liam too. The expression on his face is the same as the one he wore outside the library on the night of Harry’s memorial event, like maybe he’s not used to people being that nice to him. Noticing him, even. We gaze at each other for a moment, something private and intense passing between us. It’s all I can do not to throw myself at him right here on the deck of this borrowed boat.
I clear my throat instead. “It’s hot,” I manage. “I’m going to cool off.”
Liam looks at me strangely. “Did you bring a bathing suit?”
“Nope,” I announce, whipping my sundress up over my head, grateful I thought to put on matching underwear this morning. “Sure didn’t. Last one in has to do a solo reading of Verity’s pages when we get back!” And with that, I cannonball off the side of the sailboat and into the ocean.
The water is ice cold, and breaks over me in a splash, but it still feels amazing as I surface, and splash in the waves. When I look up at the boat, Liam’s mouth is gaping. “You are something else, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” I tell him with a grin. I feel like a little kid, brave and free. “Are you jumping in or not?”
He looks at me for a moment, then shucks his shorts and T-shirt and executes a surprisingly elegant dive, slicing into the waves with barely a ripple. “Hi,” he says once he’s surfaced, his dark hair wet and messy, saltwater clinging to his chest and eyelashes.
“Hi yourself,” I say.
We float on our backs for a while with our faces tipped up toward the sun, Otis Redding crooning softly from the sound system on the boat. Every once in awhile the tips of my wet fingers brush Liam’s, the contact sending shivers all the way up my arm that have nothing to do with the chilly water. It feels like we’re circling something, both of us working up our courage and neither one of us wanting to admit it. The anticipation feels like champagne fizzing wildly through my blood.
Eventually we climb back aboard the sailboat, drying off and lying around on the deck for the rest of the afternoon. We chat and read and listen to music, Otis giving way to Etta James and Sam Cooke. I’m surprised by how easy it is to relax around him, and I can tell Liam feels the same way—the careless, familiar rhythm of our conversation, how contentedly he lays on the lounge chair beside me. I think I might doze off.
“You’re burning,” Liam says softly.
My eyes flutter open to find him sitting beside me on the cushion, close enough to touch. “Hm?” I ask, breathing in sharply. Is it that obvious I’m about to combust?
“Your shoulders,” he explains.
“Oh.” I sit up a bit to investigate. Sure enough, I’m turning pink. “I think I’ve got some sunscreen in my purse.”
“Here,” he says, keeping his eyes locked on mine as he holds his hand out. “Let me.”