On her way past the desk she leaned in and spoke to Charles. “Can you radio Frank and ask him if he can give me an hour or so on the boat this afternoon, around three-ish?”
“I can. And will our Mr. Dristoll be joining you?”
“Were you eavesdropping, Charles?”
“Not on purpose. The young man’s eager voice drifted across the room and caught my attention.”
Angie laughed. “Well, when you receive the okay from Frank, let Trevor know the time. Can you handle that?” she asked in a teasing banter. She walked out the door with a light step and a song on her lips.
That day at precisely three, when the slated time for water sports had ended, Angie arrived at the Heritage Queen for boarding.
“Are you sure you don’t mind the extra hour on the water, Frank?” She handed him a bottled soda and cookies from the kitchen.
“Not at all, boss. You deserve some free time away from the Inn, and I’m glad you took me up on the offer to show you my side of the job.”
“I have a friend coming. He is the guide from the tour bus that invaded us this week,” Angie said.
“Yes, Mr. Dristoll. He spoke to me earlier. He seemed rather excited to view the area from the water,” said Frank.
“So he thinks we’re on a tour, does he?” Angie asked.
Frank winked. “I told him you were the queen of the wake board and he told me he was the king of the belly-flop fish.”
Angie laughed aloud and dropped her striped beach bag on the white leather seat at the back. “We shall see.” She glanced on the pier and then called out to Frank. “Here he comes.”
She watched Trevor stroll up the dock toward the boat. He wore swimming trunks, a muscle shirt and carried a towel over his shoulder, his dark tan showing in all the uncovered surfaces. Angie turned away and looked at the lake. The blazing sun reflected off small whitecaps like glittering jewels, and a slight breeze blowing across the water’s surface produced a mesmerizing shimmer. A perfect day for a boat ride.
“Are you cool?” came a voice behind her. She bolted around to face Trevor.
“Goosebumps is all. I love the water.”
“Me too. My parents owned a fishing boat and we used it as an excuse to escape the city whenever possible.” Trevor scanned the Heritage Queen. “Nothing like this one.”
“So you enjoy fishing?” Angie asked.
“My father did, so I learned to.” Trevor grinned. “They were special, quieter times I treasure – especially now.”
Angie watched with a discreet eye, as his countenance grew sad. He glanced away.
“Would you consider me bold if I asked about that hurt expression you attempt to hide from the world?” said Angie, finally finding the nerve to confront him.
“Perhaps – since we haven’t even left the dock yet,” said Trevor.
Angie yelled out to Frank. “We’re ready for some fun. Bring us to the wet-zone, Captain.”
“The wet-zone?”
“You didn’t wear those swim trunks for nothing, did you?”
Angie reached to one side and unhooked the board. “While on your travels, have you ever tried surfing?”
“Tackled a wave on the California coast, once, but it was disastrous. Never attempted it from behind a boat.”
“You’ll do great. But, I’ll brave the first wave and embarrass myself so you’ll feel more at ease when your turn comes around.” Angie laughed. “Fairly nervy of me, only ten minutes into our afternoon together.”
“So it’s not a date anymore?” asked Trevor. “Just an afternoon together?”
Angie scrunched up her face and continued zippering and snapping on the life jacket. “You say the weirdest things sometime, Trevor Dristoll.”
“Haven’t been on a date in a long time. Guess I just like the sound of it.”
Angie yelled up to the front. “I’m ready, Frank.” He stopped the boat, and she dove into the water and came up shivering. “It’s cooler than I expected. Push the board out to me and throw me the tow line, okay?”
Trevor did as she asked, and when Angie waved, Frank gunned the engine and headed for the middle of the lake. She steadied her feet on the board then inched her hands up the rope to find the right entry point. Victorious, she rode the wave soaring from the back of the boat. Angie winked at Trevor, lifted the line that connected her to the vessel and tossed it to him. He caught it in mid-air.
“Look at you! Riding that wave like a pro.”
The captain cranked the country music, and Angie watched as Trevor’s mood settled into vacation mode. He dropped onto the seat directly across from where she surfed, no doubt to watch her every move, whether it be for tips on the sport or just to googly-eye a girl in a bikini. Either way, his scrutiny did not unsettle her. In fact, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Since his arrival, Trevor lived tightly bound within a cocoon of his own making, completely unaware of how badly he needed to break loose. Angie hoped the boat ride would reach that dark place inside and offer him a reprieve.
After ten minutes and two falls, Angie climbed back aboard.
“You ready for a turn?” she asked.
“Don’t think these legs have the strength to push me to my feet and land me safely balanced on the board.”
“You can’t be referring to those muscled man-sticks you call legs? Not after all the hiking you do.”
Trevor grinned. “Not sure if muscled man-sticks describe or compliment my legs.”
Angie threw a life jacket at Trevor. “Put it on, big boy. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
After many false starts and six shattering crash-hits into the unrelenting water, Trevor climbed aboard. “I give up. You are the wave-queen,
