.19.
Jordan did her best to lie still beside Davis. Pressed close to his warm body, she felt him drift in and out of sleep, though she remained as wakeful as ever, musing over the changes that had come over her. She was surprised to find all her previous annoyance with Davis gone—utterly vanished, evaporating like mist on a summer morning. She didn’t know whether the fire of their passion had burned all her resentment up, or whether she had let it go sometime before, up on the deck while she listened to him talk about his life.
It certainly seemed like a complicated life—much more than she would ever have suspected. She’d always thought of many of her clients as privileged and out-of-touch, and as such, worthy of more scorn than sympathy. Until her talk with Davis, she hadn’t realized how tangled a person’s life could become when so much money was at stake. Nor had she realized that she had something in her life worth envying—something even a person like Davis wished for: a loving, supportive family, and a job that truly made her happy, even with the wild swings of its ups and downs.
She lightly brushed Davis’s shoulder, feeling the softness of his skin, and marveled at the strange affinity the two of them shared. Both of them stood at a crossroads with their work, neither knowing which road they should take next.
Funny, that fate brought us together at this exact point in our lives. Jordan had never been one to believe in destiny, or even in a higher power. But as she listened to his steady breathing, Jordan wondered if there was some mysterious, greater purpose at work.
Her feelings for Davis were so strong they verged on the terrifying. The intensity with which she had formerly hated his guts was still there, and still just as strong. But she certainly didn’t feel anything approaching hatred now. Davis was kind. He was respectful, even while he took her breath away in bed with that smooth, perfectly natural domination. He was thoughtful, friendly to her crew, and the sensitivity he’d revealed through his music—the hurt and vulnerability she heard in his voice and in the notes of his guitar—made a striking counterpoint to his habitual cockiness.
Now that she had seen the person inside the rock-star shell, Jordan realized she liked Davis. A lot.
No… she more than liked him.
The realization nearly choked her. She gave a ragged gasp, and Davis shifted and murmured in his sleep. Jordan held her breath until he settled again, breathing in a slow, steady rhythm.
But her heart still pounded. Was it true? Could she love a man like Davis, who was so much her opposite, in every way?
I can’t love him, she insisted, her practical side rearing up to blot out her spontaneity. Because tomorrow he’ll be gone. I’ll never see him again. And if I fall in love with him, what will that do to me?
But Jordan’s stomach sank. She had a feeling it was no longer a matter of if. The damage was done. Davis had carved out a permanent place in her heart—a place she was afraid no one else could ever occupy.
The thought upset her. She needed fresh air. Even though leaving him was agony—especially when she knew their time together was so short—Jordan dressed quietly and slipped up to the deck.
The night was chilly, but the stars were astoundingly bright and clear, and reflected in the smooth expanse of dark water between the faint shapes of the islands. She huddled in her sweatshirt and looked up at the stars, tormenting herself with a hundred desperate questions.
Why would you do this to yourself?
What were you thinking?
How can you love a man like him?
How can you not love him, now that you know who he really is?
And the hardest question of all—Now that you know how good you can feel, in your body and your heart, how can you get through life without him?
The questions tumbled through Jordan’s head over and over, but neither the moon nor the islands offered any answers. Tears flooded her eyes until the stars melted into one blur of silver streaked across the sky.
The Coriolis rocked gently. Jordan knew that Davis had risen from his bed. A few moments later he came up onto the deck; she dried her eyes quickly on the sleeve of her sweatshirt so he wouldn’t know she had been crying. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her body. She melted into his warmth, loving the tingle that raced over her skin everywhere their bodies met, and hating the tangle of emotions that swelled in her throat.
“Hey,” he whispered in her ear. “I missed you down there.”
“Sorry. I just had to think.”
“About what?”
Jordan couldn’t come up with a simple answer to that question, any more than she could answer the painful queries in her own mind. She turned in his embrace and stared up at him, bereft of words. But his eyes widened when he saw the pain in her face. Jordan could tell he was startled by how completely her pain mirrored his own soul-deep ache.
“You’re thinking about tomorrow,” Davis said.
“Yes.”
She hid her face against his chest, breathing in his smell, taking in so much of it she thought her lungs would burst. But it still wasn’t enough.
Jordan laughed bitterly. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you. If anybody had told me this morning that I’d feel this way, that I’d say these things tonight, I never would have believed them.”
“But you do feel this way.” Davis lifted her face with one hand beneath her chin. His blue eyes held her with a long, searching stare. Finally he said. “So do I.”
Jordan’s heart soared. And a long knife of pain in her middle, too. “I shouldn’t feel this way. Neither should you.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re so different—so opposite. We’re from totally different worlds. You’re a huge rock star—”
“Maybe not so huge anymore,” he said lightly.
“And I’m just some girl from a podunk island in the middle of nowhere.”
Davis laughed. “You are not just some girl. You’re so much more.”
“But we’re from different worlds,” Jordan insisted. “We should feel like strangers, not… not like this.”
Davis shrugged. “This all makes perfect sense to me. The worlds we’re from don’t matter. It’s the way we make each other feel that counts.”
Jordan swallowed hard and rested her head on his chest again. She couldn’t look him in the eye when she asked her next question. She was too afraid she would see something less in his eyes than what she felt—and just as afraid that she’d see exactly what she felt. “So… how do I make you feel, then?”
His arms wrapped her more tightly. “Calm,” he said. “Focused. In control of my life. Which is funny, because I’m not in control of my life—not at all. I have no idea what comes next. But when I’m with you, I feel like that’s okay. I feel like… everything will work out in the end.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. You take your life so seriously. I used to think that was a bad thing—that it made you, and people like you, somehow stunted. Like you weren’t living life fully enough. I thought that as long as I kept moving, kept partying, kept being loud and wild, I was actually living my life, getting the most out of it.” He paused thoughtfully and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t think that anymore. You haven’t missed out on life by being focused and driven—not at all. You have everything I’ve always wanted—everything I wish I had now.”
She laughed against his chest. “That’s hard to believe. A rock star envying an island girl?”
“It’s true, though. I want a family like yours. I’ve never even met them—except for Storm, of course—but I already know they’re a real family, warm and loving and supportive. Who wouldn’t want that?”
“They are pretty great. I won’t deny it.”
“And you’ve found your calling.”
“What, sailing?”
“Don’t say, ‘What, sailing?’ as if it’s nothing! You’re magical when you sail. So smart and capable, so natural. It amazes me. It’s like you’ve got some kind of superhuman power.”
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She giggled again. “Anybody can learn how to do it. Really, it’s not that special.”
“It is special, because it’s yours. And because you’ve made it more than just sailing—you’ve turned it into your whole life.”
“But you’ve done the same with music.”
Davis grew suddenly melancholy. She could feel his arms loosen around her and he sighed heavily. “Yeah… music. I’ll hate to give it up, but—”
“What? Davis, you can’t give up your music!” She stared up at him, astounded. “It’s as much a part of you as sailing is a part of me.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Of course!” She blushed. Somehow, even after the passion they’d shared, it seemed almost too intimate to talk about Davis’s music—about the depth of vulnerability she had seen when he’d played by himself. But she forced the words out anyway. “When you played alone, out here on the bow, it was like I saw something in you that you’ve never shown to anybody else.”
“You did,” he said softly.
“It was amazing, Davis. The power you have when you play like that… from your heart, not the loud, thrashy stuff… I don’t think too many other musicians can do it. I don’t think there are many people out there who have a gift like yours.”
“Thanks,” he said. His eyes shone in the moonlight. “That means a lot to me.”
“You can’t give up music. It’s what you were meant to do.”
“But I don’t know how to save The Local Youths. I can’t think of a single trick that can turn us around and get us back onto the charts. Sky Records will drop us for sure, and then it’ll be all over.”
“What will your band mates do?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, they’ll all be just fine. They’ve each got a few side projects; they’ll get by and end up with new successes of their own. I’m the only one who has to worry. I’ve got nothing else going on.”
“Why don’t you make something else—start a new project of your own?”
He shook his head. “It’s just not that simple. There’s so much that goes into launching a solo career… if Tyler is already on the verge of dropping me, he won’t invest in some acoustic-solo act.”
“I don’t know about that, Davis. He invested a lot just to give you a chance to figure out what you want from your career. A lot. Do you have any idea what he paid me to take you on this little sailing excursion?”
“No,” Davis said cautiously. “How much?”
“A hundred-fifty-thousand bucks.”
Davis whistled.
“It’s more money than I’ve ever earned on a single trip. But don’t you see? Tyler isn’t as hopeless as you think. He believes in you—he wants to keep you on the label. Why else would he drop so much money to get your head straightened out?”
Davis scratched at his facial hair, his eyes distant with thought. “I didn’t know he spent that much. Maybe he really will be willing to try—to give me one last chance.”
Jordan took Davis’s hands in her own. “See? You have to stick with your music. There’s so much power in your voice, so much feeling. A solo album will catch on. It has to. It just has to.”
“It still feels risky to me. But I’m willing to try it.” His crooked smile sent a wave of warmth cresting in Jordan’s heart. “You know, I’ve even felt inspired to write some new songs, since I got a little more thoughtful and quiet, and really paid attention to the beauty of this place.”
But he didn’t look out at the night-darkened islands as he spoke of beauty. He never took his eyes off Jordan’s face.
Davis pulling her into his arms again. “Jordan, if I go back to my music and try to convince Tyler to invest in me as a solo artist… it’ll mean I’ll have to stay in Seattle. And I’ll be busy. I won’t have a lot of time to get back out to the islands.”
A tiny hope flared in her chest. “You planned to come back?”
Davis kissed her, long and deep, until she felt dizzy and breathless. When they broke apart, he said, “I did, and I do. But I won’t be able to come back very often. I’ll need to stay focused on my work.”
“You’re so driven now,” she said. “Maybe even a little obsessed with your career? I guess I’ve rubbed off on you.”
“I’m pretty sure I owe you some thanks for that. Have I had any lasting effect on you?”
Jordan thought back on the overwhelming desire she had for him, the way he had loosed her from her tight-laced ways. Davis had shown her how to be free, spontaneous—even wild. “Oh, some,” she said. “Maybe a little bit.”
But the smile slid from her face. “I’ll miss you, Davis. You changed me completely—for the better. I can’t go back to being the same old Jordan I was before. It’s like I know a whole other side of myself now, one that had been dormant forever. You woke me up—all of me—and I can’t just go back to sleep again.”
Her words choked off. She drew a shuddering breath, clinging to his shoulders with a desperate grip.
“I…” She couldn’t say it.
Davis said it for her. “I love you.”
Jordan pulled away and stared up at him. The starlight made his blue eyes glow. “You do?”
“How could I not? You woke me up, too, Jordan—the part of me that was sleeping. Before, all I knew how to do was run from the future. I just wanted to live in my own past forever—I wanted to be stuck there, and never move forward. But now I’m different. I’m the kind of guy who can move ahead with a plan, and go after my goals.” He chuckled uncomfortably. “I think I can, anyway. I guess it still remains to be seen.”
Jordan smiled. Happy tears spilled from her eyes. “You can. I know you can. And I love you, too.” Strange—when she finally said the words they didn’t feel the least bit odd or out of place. She had known Davis for not quite ten days—and had liked him for far less time than that. But she was certain the place he’d found in her heart was a permanent one, and no one else ever would fill it. “I can’t say goodbye to you, Davis—not forever.”
“We don’t need to say goodbye. I have no intention of letting you go.” He tightened his embrace, as if to illustrate his point, and Jordan melted comfortably against him. “It will take plenty of time to restart my career with a whole new persona, and time to write all the new songs and record my first solo album. But Seattle isn’t all that far away. I’ll be back to see you, whenever work slows down enough that I can slip away. And if the music gods are good to me, I’ll have a big enough hit that I can eventually take some time off from recording and touring. Then I’ll get my own place up here in the islands. Maybe then I can even slow down and learn how to enjoy the good things in life.”
“You want to get a place here? In the islands?” The mere thought sent her heart sailing like the Coriolis with all its sheets raised.
“Now that I’ve seen how beautiful it is here, I can’t leave this place—not permanently. I can’t leave this woman, either.” He kissed her neck. Jordan squeezed her eyes shut, lost in the bliss. “Will you wait that long, Jordan? Will you wait for me to get my life back on track, and turn my own boat around?”
“I will,” she said at once. “Gladly. Like you said, Seattle isn’t that far away. I can come down to visit you, too, all this summer—whenever I have some time off work.”
“So you’re going to stick with it? You aren’t going to close down your charter business?”
“I think I’ll keep it going a while longer,” she said, grinning, and warm to her toes with satisfaction. She was making the right choice—about the business, and about Davis—she was sure of that. “I’ve come to regard my clients in a slighlty different light. I’m finding them a lot less unbearable these days.”
“Just don’t give all of them the special treatment you gave me.”
“Ha! None of them can compare to you, Davis. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Suddenly he spun her around. They danced dizzily under the stars, both of them laughing.
�
�I can’t wait for you to come see me in Seattle,” Davis said. “I can’t wait to tell Tyler about the solo project, either. I haven’t felt this inspired—or this confident—in such a long time.”
“Do you want to put on some loud music to celebrate?”
He stopped spinning and pulled her closer. “No. I don’t want anything but this—what I have right now.”
“And what’s that?”
“Quiet, calm waters… and you.”
.20.
Davis woke with the morning sun streaming in through his cabin’s porthole. He blinked in the bright light, lying still as he readied himself, feeling a sense of focused calm spread throughout his body.
It was the final day of his vacation, and he knew he was prepared to face Tyler that evening when he returned to Seattle—eager, in fact. A dozen ideas for new songs were already tumbling through his head. None of the new songs sounded a bit like the work The Local Youths had done in the past. These pieces, though still half-formed and unrefined, were of a new breed—and would be made for Davis Steen alone. So much about the new work remained sketchy in his imagination—the fragmentary lyrics, the partially realized chord progressions. Yet still, Davis could sense that the new material would build a strong, sturdy raft on which to launch his solo career. Even in their unwritten states, each of his new songs felt fully formed within his mind and heart. And why shouldn’t they feel that way? Davis had a gorgeous, dark-haired muse to guide him now, and her hand was always steady on the helm.
He heard the rumbling of the Coriolis’s tender approaching across the water. Davis gently shook Jordan awake. They were both naked, having fallen back into bed after their tender confessions on the deck the night before. The lovemaking they’d shared on that second round had been even more intense than before—so powerful that Davis could still feel the sweet, burning thrill of it thrumming along his veins. Now that he and Jordan had admitted their love—now that they looked forward to their future together—a sea of passion seemed to flow between them.
He kissed her gently on her soft, smooth cheek. “Storm and Emily are almost back.”
Jordan rose and dressed without haste, without embarrassment. Davis joined her, touching her and holding her even as she pulled on her clothes. He was unable to keep his hands off her warm skin, her alluring form.
Rock the Boat: A Griffin Bay Novel Page 16