“Sure! Everything’s alive here, Mills. Can’t ye feel it?” His gemstone gaze locks onto mine, intense and unwavering.
“Alive with adventure,” he continues. A dare in his tone and an undercurrent of thrill make my heart race.
“I’ve sailed the waters around Scotland, England, Ireland...” His voice trails off, a hint of nostalgiasoftening his words. “Every place has its unique stories that stay with you.”
“What’s been the best part of your travels?” I ask.
“The thrill of diving into new cultures, discovering history... and a bit about myself too.” He inches toward me, his voice low and hopeful, “I think ye might find some inspiration here too.” His words ring like a welcome call to view our surroundings with renewed curiosity.
The sea spray hitting my face suddenly feels like a baptism in creativity.
“This place... it’s the most inspiring spot I’ve ever stumbled upon,” I confess. “I bet I’ll be burning the midnight oil writing tonight!”
“That’s fantastic,” Cal beams.
“But for now, should we maybe focus on not tipping over this boat?” I suggest playfully.
“Sounds like a solid strategy,” Cal agrees, his laughter echoing across the water.
Chapter Thirteen
“Is it just me,or are you trying to make this rope thingy—” I hesitate before continuing. “What’s the correct word again?”
“Sheet.”
“Yes, sheet. Are you making it sound more complex than it is to impress me?” I tease as Cal hands me the line.
“I would never,” he replies with feigned indignation. “I’m merely honoring ancient seafaring traditions. And besides, your flustered look is quite adorable.”
“Flustered? Me? I am calmness personified under pressure.” My words tumble out, daring him to argue otherwise.
“Oh really? Like when I picked you up at Rosewood Cottage? You were serenity itself,” heteases, reminding me of my less-than-dignified encounter with a spider the size of a rat.
“Hey, that thing had murder in its eyes. And at least six of them were looking at me,” I shoot back, laughing. For someone who prides herself on being tough, my fear of spiders is an embarrassing weak spot.
“But out here on Moray Firth, it’s just us and the sea. No spiders, I promise,” Cal’s voice is a balm to my nerves, his fingers gently guiding mine to steer the tiller slightly to port. “Feel the rhythm of the waves. They’re like Highland dancers, graceful but powerful.”
“Highland dancers with enough lethal moves to send us six feet under!” I reply, my grip on the tiller gaining more confidence.
“True. But I won’t let that happen. Besides, a little danger spices up life, don’t ye think?”
“Spice is for curry, Cal, not for potentially life-threatening situations.” Despite my words, there’s an undeniable thrill coursing through me as the salt air fills my lungs and the wind tugs at my hair.
“Speaking of spice,” he says as he eases closer to adjust the sail, his arm brushing against mine. “I thought I might cook for you tonight. I make a mean haggis.”
“Threatening me with haggis now? You Scots know how to woo a lady.”
“Just give it a chance. Like sailing or haggis—both acquired tastes full of surprises... much like yourself.”
“You just compared me to a sheep’s stomach stuffed with oatmeal?” My feigned offense can’t mask the smile tugging at my lips.
“In only the best way possible. You’re both Scottish treasures.”
“Well, this treasure doesn’t plan on being buried at sea today, so let’s keep this boat upright, Captain.”
Cal is quiet for a breath, then offers a nod. “Your wish is my command.”
I feel my shoulders relaxing as we glide over Moray Firth’s waters. Each shared laugh and playful jab with Cal loosens the grip of my past on me. For the first time in a long while, I’m not dwelling on my past disappointments or the uncertainty of my future.
