He could still navigate these woods with his eyes shut.
When he emerged from the thicket of trees, he could not believe the pristine setting of a new marina building with two brand new docks sticking out into the deep-water cove. Ten individual slips had been built on each side of both docks to serve a total of forty boats.
That seemed like a lot for this cove.
Three boats were berthed along the closest dock, two of which were sailboats at the very end where a dock teed out in both directions in the deepest basin.
His gaze zeroed in on a blue mast like the mast he’d painted on his boat. His heart flipped around in his chest.
What had Angie done?
Even from here, he could readLe Jolly Clerclettered in a fancy script on the stern. Gone were the ugly block letters he’d painted on it before the boat was close to seaworthy.
He headed for the dock.
A female voice called out, “Hold up.”
Turning, he took in the nice-looking woman in her thirties with a Maine Mariners ball cap over dark hair, white shorts that glowed in the low light, and a blue shirt tied at her narrow waist. No smile.
He gave her a let’s-be-friends grin that had paid off many times in the past. “Hi. Heard someone had rebuilt the marina. Would that be you?”
“Ayuh.” Still not even a polite smile. “I dohn allow anyone to wandah around the docks, ’specially when no ownahs are heah.”
He strolled over and extended his hand. “I’m Sammy. My Aunt Angela owns the inn.” Yes, he was name-dropping and didn’t care what that said about him. His hand remained empty.
“Angela hasn’t mentioned yah. At all.”
Thanks for no help again, Angie. “I travel a lot. She told me to come find my surprise.” That had not been what she’d said, but his sailboat was docked here. Surely, this woman couldn’t think Angie intended to sail the boat herself.
What was he thinking? Angie could probably pilot an ocean liner if she decided she wanted to do it.
“And whatsahprisewould that be?” the marina owner asked.
Man, she was one tough nut, or he’d lost all his ability to sweet talk a woman. “The sailboat namedLe Jolly Clerc.” He’d said that with pride. He kept his hand out, determined to make her step over that rigid line and shake hands.
She blew out a stream of air, grabbed his hand for a quick shake, then broke free fast. “Didyahname it?”
“Yes, I did.” He’d admit the name was different but that had been the point back then.
“Hm. Didn’t think Angela did that. Ye-ah, she said yah’d be along.” She turned back into the office, dismissing him.
Angie got his boat and had it moved here.
He owed her big time. He’d pay her back too, so long as it wasn’t in carpentry trade, which seemed wrong since he immediately wanted to work on his boat.
Sam shrugged off the woman’s insult, happy to head to the dock. Women here were tough on his ego. First Janean pulled in her welcome mat and now this woman’s cool dismissal.
Some days, women were more trouble than facing off with an armed terrorist.
Angie had known him during his awkward teen years and still liked to poke at him to get serious about a female every chance she got.
She’d told him to earn a woman’s trust first, then romance her. Good advice if he ever decided to find a partner for life.
Hell, he’d given the female in Venezuela the shirt off his back, and she’d wanted nothing to do with him. Flaky too. She’d bailed on him as soon as he took his eyes off her while contacting Nitro.
How many men would have passed up the chance to take in every sweet inch of that naked body?
He was no saint. Far from it, but he respected women.
