Matt opened his eyes to slits and saw Claire holding two deck chairs as she clenched a book under her arm.
“Sit in one of these like a civilized being, for God’s sake.”
Matt rose with a groan and set up his chair. Flopping into it, he leaned his head back once more, enjoying the warmth now that the morning cool was dying off. He unzipped his jacket and closed his eyes, listening to the murmur of voices discussing rigging and water conditions and a thousand other sailing things that didn’t interest him in the least. Claire settled into her chair with a sigh of contentment.
“So, we can pretend this is a working trip…” she began with a laugh. “Where are you on Baker’s stuff?”
After a rundown on the latest sculpture, Claire hummed in satisfaction. “That far? I knew this was a good day to spend some time with your lovely girl. This is the fastest I’ve ever seen you work, Matt. You need a break before you burn out. Plus, time’s—”
His smile faded. “We’re not focusing on that.”
Claire was quiet. “Fair enough.”
Matt listened to the gulls and willed his shoulders to relax.
A throat clearing drew his attention. Claire was staring at the side of his head. “Yes?” he asked, eyes closing again.
“Deciding,” Claire said thoughtfully.
“About?”
“That hammers thing.”
Matt smiled. “Verdict?”
“It’s still up in the air, depending on if you really let Abby go home without you.”
“Claire…”
“I know,” she said, “it’s an off-limits topic. But screw that. We’ve known each other a long time, and I’m a nosy bitch. So, what are you thinking?”
“We’re planning to get together at Christmastime.” He heard her snort of disgust and looked at her. “What else can I do? We’re not kids that can just walk away from real life whenever we want to. Abby has a job that she likes and has to go back to, and I have Baker’s damned statues to finish, unless I want to be sued for breach of contract, and you know he’d love to have a reason. It’s just…I’m screwed, you know?”
Claire’s gaze softened and she relented. “Yeah. Ready for a sandwich?” She got up from her seat and extended a hand to Matt. “Hey, you two?” she called toward Charles and Abby as they conferred gravely over a maritime chart. “Can you take a break to eat, or will we crash and be shark lunch?”
“Sharks again,” Matt heard Abby mutter, and he grinned.
“Dropping anchor right now, captain,” Charles said with a grin. “I’m starving.” After a few moments bustling about, the boat was still and lunch set out. “Courtesy of my favorite housekeeper,” he said in satisfaction, taking a huge bite of sandwich as he lounged against the side of the boat. “She’s a wonder.”
“She’s an enabler,” Claire observed, taking the lobster salad on pillowy French bread from his hand and replacing it with a turkey on whole-grain. “You know the doctor told you to watch your cholesterol.” She took a bite of his former sandwich.
Charles shook his head. “You are a cruel woman. I’d divorce you for that if I didn’t love you so much.” They ate in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. “So, how do you like our coast, Abby? Enough to come out again and save my long-suffering wife from pretending to care about all this sailing business?”
“It’s beautiful,” Abby said. “I’d love to come out again, if I get a chance before I leave. I’m sure Claire cares more than you realize, though.”
“About my husband,” Claire said with a rueful grin. She wrapped her arm around Charles’s waist. “I’m afraid he’s right about the sailing, though I thought I hid it better.” She brushed an errant lock of hair off of his forehead. “We only have each other, so whatever I can do to spend time with him is worth it.”
Charles caught her hand and kissed its palm before resting it on his chest. “So…what are your plans for the next couple of weeks? I need to go to Thailand next week, and I’d love to make it a group trip, my treat. Great surfing, Matt, and you could probably catch up with your dad—he’s in Australia, right? Easy side trip in the jet.”
Abby laughed. “You don’t do things by halves, do you? I’m afraid I don’t have my passport with me.”
“Yes, dear, don’t tease,” Claire scolded. “Besides, Matt has a ton of work to do, I have slave driving to do, and Abby has painting. How’s that going, by the way?”
Matt admired the skillful subject change and used the opportunity to sing Abby’s praises. Charles responded with a request for a sketch of his boat, on the spot. Abby complied, taking the pad that Matt had laid aside and setting to work as the others finished their lunch. She worked so quietly, her hand flying, that Claire and Charles seemed to forget what she was doing as they chatted.
Matt sat next to Abby, snatching occasional glances at her work. He restrained a smile. Charles wasn’t going to get what he’d envisioned. Abby finished her sketch with a flourish and handed it to Claire.
Claire smiled delightedly. Though Charles’s request was partially fulfilled, in that a significant portion of the side of his boat was shown in detail, the focus was clearly the man as he lounged against the edge of the boat, laughing, arms outstretched along the top rail.
“Abby, this is just…lovely!” Claire said after studying the picture.
Charles peeked at the paper and grimaced. “Are the lines on my face that deep? Maybe I should follow Grandmother’s advice and have some work done.”
“Hush,” Claire ordered. “You’re ruggedly handsome. I like that face, shameless fisher-for-compliments.”
Charles smiled. “As long as you put it that way…” He tapped the page. “I don’t claim to know much about art, but I’d like this if I wasn’t the subject.” He turned to Claire. “What do you think?”
“I want this in more permanent form. I do know a lot about art, and this is very good, Abby, especially for a spur of the moment thing.”
Abby flushed and handed the pad back to Claire. “Here. It’s yours.” She looked surprised when Claire tore off the sheet and handed it back.
“Keep this. You’ll need it for my painting. Oils or acrylics, whatever medium you prefer. I’m serious. Consider it a commission. You’re talented, and this is wonderful.” Claire looked at the drawing again. “In fact, lots of people should see this.” She thought for a minute, and then she smiled.
Curling her hands around Charles’s arm, she looked up at him. “I’ve had the best idea. Don’t you think there’s probably a lot of untapped talent in Santa Cruz, C? We already have a show planned for the children, so why don’t we expand? I’ll bet that if we, meaning you, put it out through the grapevine that we’re looking for Cruz arts and crafts, we could pull something together in a couple of weeks.”
“Not much time for advertising.” Charles said.
Claire waved her hand dismissively. “We’re not trying to compete with Sausalito. Just a little show for ourselves. Local artists…civic pride…”
Charles chuckled and slung his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You don’t have to sell me, sweetheart. Make it happen. Just give a featured spot to the painting of the old man and the sea. We need to spotlight our local stars.” He grinned at Abby.
“If it’s for locals—”
“Do the old ladies that watch for surfers talk to you?” Charles asked sternly.
“Yes.”
“Then you’re local,” Charles said firmly. “They wouldn’t be caught dead paying attention to a tourist, unless it involved a monetary exchange. In fact—” He cursed as the phone in his pocket rang. He walked a few feet away before he answered.
Matt felt a tug at his heart. In just a few weeks, Abby had become a local, something not easy to achieve in a tourist-inundated town. He didn’t think his mother had ever accomplished it, even with living there for a few years. Maybe she’d always had one foot out the door and his father’s friends had sensed that. He edged closer to Abby, and she responde
d by resting her head against his shoulder. By the time of Claire’s show, she’d be leaving.
His attention was drawn back to their company when Charles spoke. “I’m sorry, folks. I’m going to have to cut this short. Grandmother has apparently made an appearance, and my presence is desperately needed for serious business. Or just because she’s bored. Who the hell knows?” He grimaced and headed for the wheel. Abby asked if he’d like help and got his enthusiastic okay.
Matt felt Claire’s calculating gaze.
“Don’t say a word.”
She smiled slyly. “I don’t need to. It’s written all over your face. And I’m back to that bag of hammers issue.” She slipped her own jacket off and adjusted her sunglasses as she took a seat. “Don’t bother arguing with me. I plan on enjoying these last few minutes of freedom before the old dragon sucks away my will to live.”
The trip back to the Eastman dock was accomplished without issue, and soon Claire was repacking her bag and sliding on her shoes. Abby picked up her shirt and jacket, but Charles stopped her.
“No reason for you guys to cut your day short,” he said. “Why don’t you take the boat back out? We went over the area pretty thoroughly. Just stay around here, and you’ll be fine.”
Abby looked flustered. “I don’t…”
Charles grinned at her. “I trust you. Just don’t hit anything. We’ll leave you the cooler.” He leaped to the dock and helped his wife out. Slinging her ridiculously flowery bag over his shoulder, he wrapped the opposite arm around her waist, and they walked toward their house, heads close together as they laughed at some private joke.
Abby watched them go, a wistful smile on her face, until they disappeared over the crest of a small rise. “They’re great, aren’t they?”
Matt nodded and put his hand over hers as it rested on the rail.
“Well, shall we try to pilot this beast a bit?” she asked, smiling. “Nothing to lose but a boat worth more than I’ll earn before I die.”
Matt laughed. “Why not? Just tell me what to do.”
Within half an hour, Abby had reached the limits of both the water she felt comfortable sailing and her courage. Dropping anchor, she accomplished a number of tasks that remained a mystery to Matt before she pronounced them safe.
“Wanna swim?” Matt asked, stripping off his shirt and toeing off his shoes.
“Oh! I don’t think I should. I mean…shouldn’t someone stay with the boat?” Abby stammered.
“Nope. We do it all the time.” Matt tugged at the waistband of her shorts. “There are no sharks,” he murmured in her ear. “Come on…it’s hot out here, and the water’s cool. We don’t have to stay in long. Don’t make me beg, Abby.”
She snorted and stepped back, slipping her feet out of her shoes and sliding her shorts over her hips. “Far be it from me to deny you anything.” With two large steps, she was at the rail and flying into the water.
Matt followed her a bare second later, cutting into the water cleanly and coming up behind her. A brief, fierce water fight followed. With a choked laugh, Abby capitulated after a sweeping armful of water had filled her open mouth. Matt held her as they treaded water. Relaxing, Abby closed her eyes and sighed in contentment.
Leaving her to her thoughts, Matt swam a slow lap around the boat. As always, time spent in his element wiped away any thoughts other than enjoyment of sea and sun. He rounded the front of the boat and paused to watch Abby float. Her hair drifted around her head while her hands moved lazily in the waves and the swells of her breasts rose above the water. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anyone as much as he wanted her right then.
Moving silently beneath the surface of the water, Matt watched for the smooth roundness of Abby’s thighs before sliding his fingers over her skin.
What he didn’t anticipate was her shriek and splash as she bolted upright in the water, submerging rapidly. Diving, he grasped her under the arms and kicked for the surface, holding her up as she choked out water.
Once she could breathe, she slapped at his chest, startling him into releasing her. She swam for the boat, grabbing the rungs of the ladder as soon as she could reach them. “That wasn’t funny.” Her foot slipped on a rung as she neared the top rail, and she scrabbled for purchase.
Matt restrained his laugh, perceiving it was no time to push her. “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he protested, swimming for the ladder.
Abby leaned over the side and pointed at him. “Don’t you dare! I’m pissed off, so you’d better stay there until I calm down. And don’t try to tell me you weren’t being funny. First you scare me about sharks, then you grab my leg…”
This time he did laugh. “Swear to God, I wasn’t thinking about that, Abby.” He held on to the lowest rung. “I wasn’t playing shark.”
Abby stared down at him for a moment. And then she grunted acknowledgment. “Stay down there anyway. Punishment for scaring the piss out of me, and I do mean literally. I hope sharks aren’t attracted to pee.” She disappeared from the railing.
Matt waited at the side of the boat, hoping that she’d relent and let him ascend. When she didn’t reappear, he set out around the boat again. He chuckled to himself as he swam, seeing first her panicked jump and then the angry scowl as she glared down at him from the deck. As he rounded the back of the boat and neared the ladder again, he hoped that the twinkle he’d thought he’d seen in her eye as she’d stepped back from the rail hadn’t been a figment of his hopeful imagination. He climbed quickly, trusting that innate kindness would keep her from ordering him back into the water once he made his goal.
Abby paid no attention to him as she rested in her deck chair, legs outstretched and eyes closed. Matt walked closer, relieved to see the tiny tilt to her lips that she tried to hide. He kneeled beside her and rested his cold, wet head on her chest.
“Am I forgiven?” he asked, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around her torso.
“I suppose,” she sighed. Matt turned his head and kissed the swells of her breasts. “What is it with guys and boobs?” she asked, laughing as he tweaked the end of the string that tied around her neck.
“They’re warm and soft, and we don’t have ’em. What’s not to like?” Pulling the bottom string, he felt the bow loosen and removed the cloth from her body before dropping it on the deck.
Matt sat back on his heels, tracing her shape with his eyes and his hands. “Beautiful,” he said softly, leaning forward to nibble at her belly, inhaling the mixed scents of sea, sun, and skin. “I want you.”
“You’re a tease,” she murmured, hands gripping the sides of her chair.
“Not at all.” Matt stood and helped Abby to her feet, catching her hands as she moved to cover her chest. “Don’t. There’s no one around but me.” He walked backward, holding her hands and her gaze until he had to locate the handle of a particular hatch. He twisted it open and extracted a light blanket, raising an eyebrow in question.
“No way.”
Matt smiled and led her toward the spot he’d chosen, between the masts and hidden from view unless a boat came right alongside. “Are you telling me you’ve never enjoyed outdoor sex? I find that hard to believe.”
“Of course I have, but…” Abby hedged.
Matt shook out the blanket and stood in the middle of it. “The ocean, the sun, and you, all at once. Since you’ve nixed the idea of the beach, this is the next best thing.”
Abby nodded hesitantly. With a tug, she loosened the ties that held the bottom of her suit together. She let it fall and sank down onto the blanket. “I’m going to get burned.”
Matt squatted down, his eyes serious even as he watched his hand glide down her body. “No you’re not. I never want you to hurt, Abby, in any way. Trust me.”
She nodded and reached up to stroke his face with the backs of her fingers. “I trust you,” she whispered when he was stretched out next to her. Matt shifted her over him, running his hands over her back and bottom, trying to save every bit of sensory input f
rom this moment: the warmth of sun and skin against him, the smell of the sea and her body, the taste of salt on Abby’s shoulder, the soft sound of her breathing.
The last vestiges of thought warned him that something wasn’t right. He looked up and noticed that Abby’s eyes were tightly closed, her body tense.
Matt kissed her eyelids. “Look at me, Abby. Please.”
Wetness started to seep around her lashes, and she shook her head.
“Yes,” he insisted. “Don’t shut me out.”
Abby opened her eyes slowly. Matt felt a sense of wonder at what he saw there. He’d never imagined he’d see love looking back at him.
“I’m sorry,” Abby whispered. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just…” She trailed off as Matt covered her mouth with his fingertips.
“Don’t be sorry. Please. I’m not, even if you scare the hell out of me. Abby, I lov—”
Abby kissed him fiercely. “Can we not say it?” she asked, her voice trembling. She shifted the tiny bit needed to sink down onto and around him. “Please? Not yet.”
Matt nodded, then concentrated on pleasing them both.
Please became yes, became fuck, became God, became laughter and sighs and gasps and now…and then their cries mingled with the sounds of the gulls that wheeled overhead, careless of the magic and mystery taking place far below them. And then it was quiet.
Abby’s gentle hands on his face brought Matt out of his doze. “Hey, mister. You can’t go to sleep now. You’ll cook.” Her fingers trailed over his bum. “Not all of you is brown.”
Matt groaned and rolled to his side, grabbing the edge of the blanket and pulling it over both of them. “Your fault,” he said, his yawn interrupted by a laugh as Abby nudged him in the stomach.
They lay listening to the sounds of the sea as it slapped against the side of the boat. Matt smoothed Abby’s hair away from her ear. “Abby, why won’t you let me say—”
She twisted around and covered his mouth with hers, effectively and pleasantly halting his words, but he refused to be entirely distracted.
“Why?” he murmured when she drew back.
The Art of Appreciation Page 23