Bidding on Brooks: The Winslow Brothers #1 (3 page)

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“He asked me if I could spare you for a week before coming to find you.”

She nodded, appreciating the fact that Brooks respected her work enough to check with her boss before offering a job.

“You haven’t been out on the water much lately,” her father noted.

She shrugged. She didn’t feel like discussing the reason or the
someone
who’d stolen a little bit of her love for sailing. She was just relieved that Brooks Winslow was giving her an irresistible opportunity to get back out there.

“Just you or a full crew?” he asked.

“Just me. And what’s that tone for?”

Her father took a deep breath. “You know I have the utmost respect for Brooks as a sailor, right? Man knows his way around a boat better’n most.” Skye nodded, unsure of where this was going. “But you sure you want to crew for him solo?”

“Promised I would,” she said and couldn’t resist adding, “And he’s letting me skip.”

“Is that right?” asked Jack, eyebrows lifting as he nodded in approval. “Well, that’s a lot of responsibility.”

She still sensed reticence in her father’s tone. “What’s up, Pop? What’s your objection?”

“Let’s just say I don’t like the sort of women Brooks occasionally brings down here.”

Intrigued, Skye grinned at her father. “And what kind of woman would that be?”

“The kind that arrives in a taxi and leaves in a taxi.”

“What do you have against taxis?”

“Always a blonde. Always in a skimpy dress and heels. Always meets him here. But never for a sail,” he said, raising an eyebrow and looking at her meaningfully.

“Oh,” said Skye, understanding perfectly. Her father was most comfortable with boating types, and Skye knew that the type of girl Brooks preferred was sophisticated, working in the city, taking taxis everywhere, dressing fancy and not showing an interest in getting out on the water.

“To each their own. We can’t all have the same interests.”

“Just so long as
his
interest isn’t
you
,” her father said, giving her a pointed look.

Skye looked away from her father, anxious not to miss the last of the sunset and feeling a little protective of Brooks and his right to privacy where his personal life was concerned. He wasn’t hurting anyone was he? If he liked more cosmopolitan girls, it wasn’t up to her or her father to pass judgment.

“I can’t see how it’s any of our business, Pop.”

“But it doesn’t make me want to dance a jig that my blonde-haired, blue-eyed daughter is crewing with him for a solo weeklong.”

Skye faced her father and rolled her eyes, Brooks’ words about not seeing her as a girl running through her brain and stinging all over again. “Blonde or not, he doesn’t see me like that. I can guarantee it.”

Her father hefted himself up from where he’d been sitting. “No way to guarantee that, Skye. Man can feel something out of nowhere and decide to make his move…and a boat’s got tight quarters.”

She looked up at her father and gave him a reassuring smile as she stood beside him, hugging herself against a cool breeze that blew back her hair and made goosebumps rise up on her arms. “I promise you, there’s nothing to worry about. Brooks and I are just friends. I’m going to help him crew that gorgeous boat and fly home a week later. The only love affair on this cruise’ll be me and the Cutter,” she said confidently.

“If you say so,” said her father, grimacing. “Would help matters if your
boyfriend
wasn’t gallivanting all over the world without you.”

Her father adopted a tone when he said the word “boyfriend,” which chafed at Skye a little. She knew her father wasn’t Pat’s biggest fan, but she wished he could try a little harder to see what an organic, sensible match she and Pat were.

“From the moment you met him, he was always upfront about circumnavigating,” she reminded her father.

“Seems to me his original plan changed pretty abruptly,” her father reminded her in turn.

Skye shrugged, determined not to let her father see that his words had hit a soft spot. She didn’t want to give him another reason not to like Pat.

“I know. I know. It’s none of my business.” He turned and started back up the dock before pivoting to face her. “It’s just…you didn’t have a mama around. You know, to talk about things like this—boys and such. I raised you a lot like my Pop raised me, and sometimes I feel like you… well, like you missed out on things. Hope I didn’t raise you wrong. But even more, I hope you use your head, Skye Rose, especially where Brooks Winslow is concerned.”

She wished he wouldn’t worry so much, but there didn’t seem to be any way to reassure him that Brooks Winslow wouldn’t make a move on her in a million years. She walked over to him, leaning up on her tiptoes to give his cheek a kiss. “You are the best father I could have asked for. And you raised me just right.”

His white beard prickled her lips for an instant before she let him go, turning around just in time to note, with a little disappointment, that the sun was already gone.

Two hours later, Skye had showered off the marina stink, changed into comfortable pink terry cloth boxers and a scoop-neck gray T-shirt, and was sitting in front of her TV eating a grilled cheese sandwich as she waited for Patrick to call her on Skype.

She and Pat had met years ago when they both sailed Lasers for the Northern Chesapeake Cruising Club. At the time, Patrick worked as an investment banker in Baltimore and was married to his now ex-wife, Dionne. When he and Dionne split three years ago, he was looking for a new crewmate, and a mutual friend had suggested Skye. Remembering one another at first sight—and the races in which they’d bested each other over the years—they’d clicked instantly.

Though their relationship hadn’t moved quickly—it had taken two years for their first kiss, they still didn’t live together, and neither had ever broached the topic of engagement or marriage—that didn’t bother Skye because it felt so comfortable. Pat didn’t seem to care that she dressed like a tomboy and almost always had motor grease under her fingernails, and she didn’t mind that he spent more time praising the cut of his catamaran than coming up with romantic surprises for her.

She convinced herself she didn’t need that stuff—she just needed someone who cared for her and shared her interests. They were compatible, spending every spring and summer weekend on the water, and winter weekends playing paddle, visiting with friends, and heading south to Florida and the Caribbean to get in some seasonal sails. Pat had a love of boats that surpassed Skye’s. For the first few months of dating, she never grew weary of listening to him talk about his dream of circumnavigating the globe. She honed her skills, getting out on the water as much as possible to be sure she was lithe and quick, ready to anticipate Pat’s every need and be the best possible teammate for him.

The twist? He’d always talked about them going
together
, so it was a surprise when Pat finally announced that he’d quit his job for the trip, but that he wanted to go solo.

Skye’s face had fallen. “But I thought—” 

“I know, Skye. I know we always talked about going together, but I just feel like this dream started before I met you. It was one of the reasons Dionne and I broke up, and I can’t shake the feeling that this is just an adventure I’m meant to enjoy alone. I think it’s my destiny.”

“Your…destiny.”

“Not to mention, I’m just taking the Cat. Another person is extra weight, you know? And you’re a decent crew, Skye, but I want to make good time and you’re not really a racer. I want to do this my way.”

Extra weight.
Like her 120 pound body would be such a deterrent to his speed.

A decent crew.
Not even a good
sailor
. A
decent
crew.

She
was
a racer. She’d been racing sailboats since she was a little girl and Pat knew it, which led her to one conclusion: Pat didn’t think she was a
good
racer, and Skye, who’d always felt proud of her sailing skills and assumed she could hold her own, was crestfallen. If he’d backhanded her across the face it couldn’t have stung more. But unwilling to rock the proverbial boat, Skye had swallowed her hurt feelings and offered him a brave smile. “It sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

“I have.”

“Well…” she said, embarrassed and upset, but trying her best not to succumb to tears or out-of-character girly over-emoting. “I hope you have a great time, Pat.”

“Aw, Skye, you’re the best. I knew you’d understand. And listen, after I go once? I’ll know all the pitfalls and challenges. Someday when we go together, it’ll be smooth as glass.” He’d paused, grinning at her. “You know what, babe? You
are
a great mechanic. Maybe we could work on the Cat together before I go?”

Taking some comfort from his reassurance that they’d go together “someday,” and pathetically grateful for his compliment about her boat-maintenance skills, she’d helped him tune up his catamaran to a place of safety and speed, and even shed a few rare tears as they waved goodbye on a chilly March morning…that also happened to be their eight-month anniversary.

Now here it was, toward the end of June, and they’d spoken four times on the phone (about once a month). When Pat got a signal at sea, he’d occasionally email her too, but it just wasn’t enough contact and unsurprisingly, Skye had really started missing Pat over the past few weeks. Being apart was really starting to bother her. Further, she was having doubts about whether a monogamous—though fairly new—relationship was capable of weathering a two-year absence. It made her heart hurt because she truly cared for Pat and didn’t want to lose him. As a solution, she wondered if it might be a good idea for them to push up her visit to Mexico. Instead of waiting two more months to see him in Mazatlán, maybe they could meet up in three or four weeks’ time in Santa Cruz or Acapulco. As much as Skye didn’t want to put pressure on their relationship, this week also marked a year together, the first anniversary of their first kiss, and perhaps their relationship did need to feel a bit more solid—with them both committed to a real future together—to weather the year and a half of separation up ahead. At any rate, she had butterflies in her stomach because she planned to discuss it all with him tonight.

When her phone started ringing, she jumped, quickly putting her sandwich back on her plate. Muting the TV, she sat cross-legged in front of her laptop screen and clicked to answer the call. Suddenly Pat’s face took up her entire screen, and she beamed at him until her cheeks hurt.

“Pat!”

“Skye! Hey, babe!”

He waved at her, and she waved back, unfamiliar tears pricking her eyes because she was so glad to see him.

“How are you? How’s Panama City?”

“Bueno and bueno!” he said enthusiastically. “I got in two days ago and I’ve been having a blast. What a great city!”

Her smile faded just a touch as she processed the fact that he’d been on land for three days and hadn’t called until now. Then she chastened herself. Did he really want to call her all the way from Panama and risk that she wouldn’t be home? Maybe the boat had had issues that needed to be dealt with, and surely he’d needed to restock, right? No, it was good that he’d stuck to their agreed-upon time to talk. It showed commitment, thoughtfulness, and consistency.

“How does it feel to be on land again?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah!” He turned to the side for a second, smiling at someone before looking back at her. “Hey babe, I’m with Inga and Helmut right now. They’re circumnavigating too.” He panned his phone to the side and Skye was suddenly looking at two very blonde, very tan, very good-looking people who were waving back at her enthusiastically.

“Hi,” she said politely, waving back. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” said Inga, with a broad, confident smile. “Patrick is a—how you say?—good sport.”

“Oh,” said Skye, nodding. “Yes, he is. Where are you from?”

“Sweden!”

Suddenly Inga jostled in her chair and looked back flirtatiously at her boyfriend, grasping his cheeks and planting a passionate kiss on his lips. At a loss, Skye watched the make-out session until a chuckling Pat reappeared on the screen again.

“How about those two? Feisty, huh?”

“It looks like you’re having fun,” said Skye, trying to be happy for him, but feeling the distance stretch between them dramatically, in more ways than one.

“Babe, it’s like this awesome club. Everywhere I go I meet other sailors circumnavigating, or doing long stretches. The stories I could tell…” He shook his head, laughing again.

“I bet,” she said, offering him a nervous grin. “Um, hey, I sort of wanted to talk to you about some—”

“Oh, yeah, man! That’s the way!” Pat was looking at Helmut and Inga with a wide grin. He finally turned back to the screen to look at Skye. “Sorry. They’re like, full on making out in an internet café. Crazy. What were you about to say?”

Starting to feel upset that he’d called her from such a public place instead of making a quiet call to her from his hotel room so they could really catch up, she didn’t feel like talking about Mexico anymore. Not only concerned that he was too distracted to engage in a thoughtful discussion, Skye was private about her personal life, and she wasn’t too keen about Inga and Helmut eavesdropping. Hopefully she’d catch Pat over email at some point over the next couple of weeks and bring it up then.

Scrambling for something else to share, the next thing that popped out of her mouth was, “I’m crewing a restored 1929 Cutter for Brooks Winslow next weekend.”

Pat’s head, which had been turned toward his friends, whipped forward and his expression straightened. Suddenly she had one-hundred percent of his attention and couldn’t help a fleeting feeling of satisfaction.

“Brooks, huh? Is that right? Where to?”

“Charleston.”

“Huh. That’s a week. Minimum.”

“Mm-hm,” she said, adding slyly, “and he’s letting me skip.”

“What?
You?”

“Yeah. Every other day,” she said, raising her chin in defiance of Pat’s opinion of her skills.

“Well, that’s…great, Skye,” said Pat unenthusiastically. “Should be interesting.”

“Have a little faith in me, Pat.”

“Sure. There’s a first time for everything. It’ll be a great learning experience for you.” He gave her a thin smile. “Who else is going with you two?”

“Um, no one,” she said softly, wondering if it would make Pat a little jealous and hoping that it would. Part of her was hurt that he couldn’t be happier for her, and she was still feeling upset that he’d chosen to make their once-monthly call a social affair with his new friends in such a public place.

Pat raised his eyebrows, looking annoyed. “Brooks does love his blondes.”

“What does
that
mean?” she bit back.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice flat. “I hope you have a great trip. Good luck skipping.”

She was about to say
, “I don’t need luck! I know what I’m doing!”
when Pat looked back at Inga and Helmut, holding up his hand. “No, no. Wait for me. I’ll finish up here and we can go together.” He looked back at Skye, his eyes cooler now. “Last night on land for a while. I guess I’ll go make the best of it.”

Suddenly she forgot about Brooks and his boat, and her heart clutched at the thought of not talking to Pat for four more weeks.

“Pat,” she said, “how about I meet you in Acapulco instead? In two weeks?”

He massaged his scruffy blond chin with his thumb and forefinger, staring at her with surprised blue eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, babe. You already have the ticket for Mazatlán.”

“I’m sure I can trade it in.” She looked down and swallowed, gathering her courage before looking back up at Pat. “I-I miss you.”

“Aw, you’re sweet, babe,” he said, his expression softening a little. “How about I try to email you after I get through the canal? We’ll talk then and make a decision?”

Skye nodded, unsatisfied with leaving the conversation this way, but not eager to make waves. “Okay.”

Pat tilted his head to the side, pursing his lips. “Don’t be mad, Skye. That’s selfish. I have to do this for me. You know it’s my dream.”

“I know, Pat. I just wish we could—”

“Oh, my God, you guys! Get a room!” he exclaimed to his friends, laughing. He turned back to Skye. “I gotta go. Um, talk soon, babe?”

“Sure.” Skye tried, but she couldn’t even force a smile. “Pat, wait! Happy—”

“You’re the best,” he said, looking away from the screen to laugh with his friends as his finger clicked to disconnect the call.

“Anniversary,” she whispered to herself.

Skye stared disbelievingly at the blank screen for a beat before getting up and stomping to the kitchen. She took a beer out of the fridge, opening it by resting it on her kitchen counter and dropping the heel of her hand over the cap. Then she stomped back to the couch where she snapped the cover of her laptop closed. Disappointment welled up inside of her as she reviewed their conversation, or lack thereof.

The only thing he’d shown a little bit of interest in was her cruise with Brooks, and even then he’d been argumentative and curt. It clearly bothered him that she was crewing for Brooks. Why? He and Brooks weren’t the best of friends, but she’d seen them hanging out on occasion and they’d raced together more than once. That comment about Brooks loving his blondes? What was
that
all about? Why did everyone seem to assume Brooks asking her for a routine crewing job was just a rouse for seduction? It wasn’t. He’d made that abundantly clear.

She shook her head, tilting back the bottle of Bass and taking a long sip. Was she being selfish for wanting to see Pat sooner than later? It didn’t feel selfish. It felt like a last-ditch attempt to get their relationship on level ground before it unraveled from the time and distance away from each other. She stared out at the harbor-view afforded by her condo and wondered if it was even possible to save her relationship with Pat at all…because despite the fact that he called her in the company of friends, been distracted, gotten jealous about Brooks, called her selfish, and missed a chance to wish her a “Happy Anniversary”…the thing that ended up bothering Skye the most was that when she told him she missed him, he hadn’t told her he missed her, too.