“Do you want a little tour?” he asked, mildly amused at my noticeable curiosity.
“Mmm hmm,” I admitted, nodding enthusiastically.
“You look like a kid in a candy store. Have you never been on a boat?”
“Well, not one like this one,” I said, arching an eyebrow.
“This is a 65’ Tollycraft, built back in ‘92. My dad bought it after he retired.”
I followed him as he walked me through the rooms and continued to explain some of the boat’s history and features. In the main salon, the coffee table and cabinets were built out of a beautiful, red tinted wood. There was a relatively large L-shaped sofa and a big flat screen TV that hung from one of the cabinets.
“When my dad died, I knew my mom wasn’t going to take it out on her own, but neither of us had the heart to sell it. My dad loved the boat so much and boating was one of his favorite things to do. Now, it’s sort of a family boat. Lauren and her husband take it out sometimes. I only use it a few times in the summer.”
As he spoke, I noticed a picture hanging from one of the walls. Looking closer, I recognized Ryan, another younger woman, and an older gentleman that looked like an older version of Ryan.
“Is this your dad?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, and that’s my sister, Lauren, in the middle. The photo was taken on our first trip out on the boat together.”
I peered at the picture more closely and got a pretty good idea of what Ryan would look like in twenty years. He had his father’s coloring and the same strong nose, chin, and jawline. They looked about the same height in this picture. Ryan’s eyes were softer around the edges, making him appear more soulful and introspective. His father’s eyes were sharper and more catlike, like his sister’s. Their eyes were all the same color—an intense gray blue.
“It’s a lovely picture of all of you. You look so young.”
Ryan looked thoughtful. “I must’ve been twenty-three or twenty-four. It was only a couple of years before he died.” His mind seemed elsewhere, thinking of another time in the distant past.
I continued to explore the main cabin, admiring the craftsmanship and touching the wood with my fingertips. “This trim is beautiful. What is it?”
“It’s Brazilian teak. The doors and cabinets throughout the cabins and passageways, including the lower deck are all made of it. I love it. It’s what sold my mom.”
He grabbed my hand and led me to the master bedroom. There were cabinets made of the same teak wood lining a whole wall. Another flat screen TV hung off one of the cabinets. I poked my head into the bathroom, where there was a full shower, toilet, and mirrored vanity.
I then turned my attention to the lush queen bed. The thought of doing nasty things with Ryan on this bed made me blush. I looked up at him in embarrassment, hoping he didn’t notice my flushed cheeks.
He gave me a knowing look. “I can’t believe you still blush at the thought of us making love. After all that we’ve done to each other this past week?” he said with a smirk. “You’re adorable.”
I tried giving him a teasing shove, but he stopped my fruitless effort and pulled me onto the bed. I tumbled on top of him and he sealed his lips to mine. I found myself melting into his arms and wrapped my legs around him, greedily kissing him and running my fingers through his hair. After making out for a few more minutes, he reluctantly rolled out from under me and pulled away. I pouted at his withdrawal.
“I’m going to get the engine started and we’ll head out.” He pecked me again on the lips before I unwillingly let him go. “I want us to get there before dark.”
While Ryan was getting the boat ready to leave the harbor, I took several pictures with my smartphone for Anna. The last snapshot was one of Ryan in the pilot room.
Me:
Ryan and I are getting ready to take off to San Juans
Only minutes after I sent the pictures over, Anna texted me back.
Anna:
Nice! Lucky you. Give Ryan our best.
Attached to her text was a picture of the ocean view from their hotel room.
Me:
Nice view. How’s the honeymoon?
Anna:
Fabulous! We need to all come back here next year. U and R too
:)
Me:
:)
Love u. Have fun!
Anna:
U 2 – c u next week!
“What are you doing?” I heard Ryan ask as he looked over my shoulder.
“Just texting pictures of your boat to Anna.”
“Tell them hi.” He went into the cabin and then reappeared wearing a Husky baseball cap. It made him look so much younger. “Ready to go?”
It was a beautiful day with a light ocean breeze, and we took six leisurely hours to make the trip northward towards the islands. Even though I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, I often took for granted how beautiful it was here; the islands and all of the inlets were breathtaking. We spent much of our time in comfortable silence, listening to music. I smelled the familiar scent of salt and ocean. I heard and felt the boat move through the waves. Ryan had to steer the boat, but I read my book once the initial novelty of being on a yacht wore off. Even though he suggested I relax in the lower main cabin, I stayed with him for most of the trip, sitting in the pilot room on a cushioned bench.
I tried my best to read my book, but I occasionally stole glances at him while he was preoccupied navigating the boat. His presence made me feel giddy, hopeful and as madly in love as a schoolgirl with her first crush. Today he wore faded khaki shorts and a pale green polo shirt, which made his eyes look deeper and bluer. I noticed faint wrinkles around his eyes, especially when he was concentrating. His lips were smooth and rosy pink. It always amazed me how some men could have such smooth, kissable lips and not wear lip balm of any sort. His body was lean and strong, his arms toned and muscular, and he looked confident and comfortable as he manned the boat. I shamelessly ogled him, gloating to myself that he was mine.
Going by boat was also so much more enjoyable than going by car. My last trip to the islands was preceded by a four hour car ride in Friday afternoon rush hour traffic. I recalled waiting for another hour and a half at the ferry terminal before taking the one hour ferry ride to our final destination. I think it took us just about the same amount of time as this trip did, but with more stress and less enjoyment. I could get use to this method of travel around the Puget Sound.
As we neared the main island of San Juan, I was surprised when Ryan didn’t take us into Friday Harbor. Instead, he navigated us further north towards Roche Harbor on the other side of the island. As we anchored the boat alongside one of the docks, I spotted a hotel in the distance with
Hotel de Haro
painted in large black letters across the top of the building. It looked like something built during the turn of the century and looked like it belonged in the French Quarter of New Orleans. The hotel was made out of all white wood with balcony decks framed along each floor that spanned across the whole front of the building. The grounds were made up of beautiful gardens looking out into the marina. There was a historical feel to the whole area, giving me the feeling that I had just stepped into an old classic Cary Grant movie.
The harbor was lined with dozens of sailboats and other large yachts. This was no fishing boat harbor that was for sure. It was much quieter here than in Friday Harbor. There were far fewer shops and tourists and much less town and boat traffic. This little corner of Roche Harbor was really more of a quaint boating resort.
Now that we were docked, I noticed that the smell of salt and ocean was stronger here than out on the water. I could hear the seagulls squawking as they flew overhead.
“Are you hungry?” Ryan asked.
“Yes.” I found I was quite ravished, come to think of it. By the time we finished mooring the boat, it was almost six.
“I know this great little place not far from here. Come on,” he said as he took my hand and helped me off of the boat.
“I hope it’s casual,” I mumbled to myself, a little concerned with my windblown hair, t-shirt, and cutoff shorts.
“Don’t worry about it, you look great
… and sexy, too,” he whispering the last part intimately into my ear, his warm breath giving me goosebumps.
We walked down the dock towards the port hand in hand. In less than a minute, he stopped and said we were here. We hadn’t even made it off the dock yet. In front of us stood a little market umbrella stand of fresh seafood. I noticed live crabs crawling around in a tank as well as pre-cooked crabs sitting in ice next to it, ready to be scrubbed. There were also buckets of fresh clams, crayfish, squid, and shrimp. A basket of local artisan bread sat off to the side of the cash register.
“Do you like shellfish?” Ryan asked hopefully.
“Yes, of course,” I nodded enthusiastically toward the Dungeness crab, my mouth already watering.
“Good. What do you think about steamed clams and crab tonight? I’ll make you the best steamed clams you’ve ever tasted,” he said confidently.
I giggled at his smugness. “You sound pretty confident.”
Ryan ordered a couple of pounds of clams, a cooked Dungeness crab, and a baguette of the rustic bread. He also grabbed a head of garlic and some parsley before we headed back to the boat. It looked like a lot of food for just the two of us.
The kitchen showcased all stainless steel appliances and granite countertops and looked nicer than my own kitchen at home. It was fully stocked with dishes, cutlery, utensils, spices, condiments, and wine. As a prerequisite to cooking our dinner, Ryan opened a bottle of chilled chardonnay.
He poured a glass and held it out to me. “Here’s to you and me,” he said simply and we clinked our glasses together.
I was in charge of preparing the salad. As I chopped cucumbers and washed cherry tomatoes, he started on the clams. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, watching his biceps flex, admiring the confidence he seemed to have in the kitchen. He mixed some of the chardonnay, butter, and garlic together to make the stock for the clams. It smelled delicious.
“You’re very comfortable in the kitchen, aren’t you?” I observed with a smile.
He looked up and grinned mischievously, raising his eyebrows up and down. “Yes, I am.”
I laughed at his mocked confidence. To enhance our good mood, I walked over to the iPod perched on the portable speakers. I sifted through his artist list and selected the soulful sounds of Adele. We were relaxed and flirtatious as we moved through the small kitchen. I intentionally brushed my ass in front of him as I walked by; he gave me a light kiss on the back of my neck and made a playful growling sound.
As we waited for the clams to steam, I started slicing the bread. We were cooking and listening to the music in comfortable silence, so I was surprised when he asked me a pointed question. “How’s the job search going?”
“It’s going,” I said with a wry smile and then rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to let on how sensitive of a subject this was to me.
“That great, huh?” He eyed me with curiosity and some concern.
I twisted my lip up to one side. “I’m stressing over what to tell a potential manager why I’m changing jobs a month after I started a new one. They’re bound to ask.” I gave him a knowing look. “Wouldn’t you?”
Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed. “This is all my fault,” he said, shaking his head. His lips were pressed into a thin line, as if he was reprimanding himself.
“No,” I said firmly. “It’s not. It’s just the situation. Neither of us could ever have predicted this. You know that. I thank my stars that I got this job because then I wouldn’t have ever met you. It’s just, well, now I have to deal with the consequences.” I thought of Catherine and his family. “And you have your own consequences to deal with.”
“I want to help you as much as I can, wherever I can,” he said with determination.
“You already did. I’m not fired, right?”
Ryan looked even more upset now. I was attempting to be jokingly sarcastic, but apparently it didn’t come out that way.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said with soft reassurance. “I always do.”
“Is marketing what you’ve always wanted to do?” Ryan suddenly sounded more business-like and serious. I could tell he was moving into his focused, professional executive mode. It must be his managerial skills naturally taking over.
“Not necessarily. The more exposure I got to it, the more I found myself enjoying the dynamic nature of it.” I shrugged. “It looked more fun to me than IT projects.”
“Do you see yourself at MS long term?”
I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Is this an interview?” I asked dryly.
“No, it’s not,” he said somewhat curtly; he wasn’t going to humor me. “I just feel responsible and I want to make it better for you.”
My heart contracted. He really did feel guilty about all of this and wanted to fix things. I was learning quickly, that wanting to fix things was one of Ryan’s best and ironically, also one of his worst qualities. The spirit of what he was trying to do was touching, but sometimes things just weren’t so easy to fix.
I sighed and then confessed something I hadn’t yet shared with him, with anyone, for that matter. “Actually, that’s something I’ve been thinking more and more about lately. I know this guy who was a mediocre PM and left voluntarily a few years back. This was a couple of years before the big recession hit. He immediately came back as an independent contractor because he would be able to make more money this way. Or at least back then, that was the case. He eventually found a few other friends that wanted to do the same thing and they subcontracted through him. Now he has a full-fledged consulting company with a hundred plus people. I’ve observed the growth of his business over the last few years and I wondered to myself, why couldn’t I do that? I’m good with people, I know I’m smarter than he is, I have a great network of contacts at MS, and I’m definitely a stronger performer by MS standards than he was.”
“You mean you want to go work for him?” he asked perplexed.
He didn’t get it yet.
“No. I want to start up my own consulting company.”