Brothers of Paradise Series

“Wow,” she breathes. “I didn’t know you got me dancing.”

“Of course I did.”All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Is this what you’ll submit to Mr. Rieler?”

“Most likely, yes. It’ll take a while to sort through and edit, though.” I shake my head, muttering, “Mr. Rieler.”

“I can’t call him Ben just because he’s your friend,” Ivy says, nudging me. I tighten my arm and she leans her head back against my shoulder. I press my lips to her neck.

“What happens today?” she asks.

“We have the whole day.” Her robe has fallen open to reveal the length of a tan thigh, and I settle my hand there, smoothing over the skin. “It’s very early still, you know. The town isn’t awake yet. We’re the ones who are on a different schedule.”

“Right,” she murmurs.

“Let me take you sailing this morning.” The ocean always drew me when I was here, a siren’s call. Not to mention my sister couldn’t question the two of us if we were at sea.

“And you’re sure you know what you’re doing?”

I snort. “Yes. This won’t be like the Jeep-in-the-sand incident.”

She slides off my lap and turns with a wide smile. “I’ve never been sailing before.”

And just like that, she sweeps my legs out from beneath me, like she has so many times during this trip. Her honesty and enthusiasm is so genuine it disarms me.

“You’ll love it,” I tell her, smiling back.

Paradise Shores is quiet and empty as we head down Ocean Drive, parking by the marina. This place that is as familiar to me as the lines in my palms, a place I’ve both run to and run from.

The Frida is lying calm and steady in the water, and seeing her proud mast is the truest homecoming of all.

Ivy has never sailed before, but she follows orders like she was made for it, her hands tidy as she ties the most basic of knots. We cruise out of the marina on engine power, the docks and shore devoid of people. There’s one good thing about jet lag, at least. It reminds you that life can start early in the morning, if you only have the discipline to let it.

“You’re good at this!” I call to her, sitting in the bow. “Sure you haven’t sailed before?”

“No!” she calls back, grinning widely at me. “But I’m used to following orders from my dad, when we went camping. This isn’t that different.”

I shake my head at her, keeping our course steady. “Comparing a boat to a tent! You should walk the plank for that.”

“Do you have one?” Tendrils of blonde hair have escaped her braid and curl around her face in the wind.

“It’s somewhere around here,” I say. “Don’t go anywhere while I get it rigged up.”

The sound of her laughter on the wind mingles with the birds above and the waves below, and I close my eyes, drawing in the scent of it all. Of salt and sea and life.

We anchor off an abandoned bay and Ivy pulls out the sandwiches we’d bought at the gas station. The early morning sunlight is bright but not strong, letting me lie back on the deck and close my eyes without shades.

“You’ve had adventure on your doorstep your entire life,” she tells me, a smile in her voice. “No wonder you seek it in adulthood too.”

I put an arm beneath my head. “Never thought of it like that before.”

“Hey, that’s why you dove in after us? Jordan and me, in the Hamptons, I mean. You grew up on the water.”

“I dove in after you because you needed help.”

“Well, that too.”

We eat in comfortable silence for a while, the sea rocking the boat gently. It’s a motion I’ve missed.

“What are you going to introduce me as to your family?”

I laugh. “That’s what you’re thinking of right now?”

“Well, it’s important.” A pause as she takes another bite. “Just so I know how to better play my role as a buffer.”

“What do you want to be introduced as?” I ask, smiling up at the sky. Waiting for her answer, for whatever she says to shock me.

She’s so good at that.

“Whatever will make my role as buffer most efficient.”

I chuckle. “So committed to your job.”

“That’s me,” she says. “I take things seriously.”

“As opposed to me?”

“I’m itinerary-girl,” she says, a shrug in her voice. “You’re… chaos-boy.”

“Those are terrible superhero names,” I protest. “I refuse to let either of those two stick. Sexville I accept, but not these two.”

Ivy’s voice is teasing. “You haven’t answered my question, though.”

“My friend,” I suggest. “My colleague. Aren’t both of those correct?”

“They are, I suppose.”

“But I think I’ll go with date.”

There’s a smile in her voice. “I like that one the best.”

I glance over to watch her reach her arms to the sky, stretching. She’s graceful even seated, as if the curves of her body always carry the memory of dance.

“I’m going to photograph you dancing one day,” I tell her. “In a studio, just the two of us.”

Her eyes lock on mine, surprise and warm joy filling them. “I’d like that,” she says.

“Good, because you’re not getting rid of me yet.”