“Trey seems to have had some luck,” Jake said.
She glanced across the beach to the grassy peninsula where the rental stand was and saw Trey heading back toward them, a smile on his handsome tanned face. The breeze rippled through his short spiky hair, the sunlight accentuating the blond highlights in the sandy-colored mass.
When they’d arrived and seen the parking lot full and the crowd at the rental booth, they’d resigned themselves to the possibility that they wouldn’t be windsurfing today. Trey had gotten in line while Jake and Danielle gathered their things and took them to the beach to claim a picnic table.
“I got two boards,” Trey said, holding up two slips of paper.
“Only two?” Jake asked.
“I figure we’ll take turns showing Danielle how to use the board.”
Jake turned to Danielle. “I thought you already knew how to windsurf. We taught you before you moved to Boston.”
“That was a long time ago. I haven’t been on a board since.”
“Let’s fix that.” Trey reached for her hand.
She placed her hand in his larger one, enjoying the feel of his large fingers wrapping around hers.
“Don’t forget your water shoes.”
She pulled the blue rubber shoes Trey had brought for her from her bag, knowing they were a wise precaution against getting cut by the sharp clam shells on the sandy bottom of the lake. Why he had a pair of ladies’ size 7 shoes on hand, she didn’t know . . . and didn’t ask. The tug of his hand drew her forward as he crossed the sand to the grass, then toward the shore.
“That’s us. Numbers five and twenty-seven,” he said, gesturing to two windsurfing boards lying on the grass by the water’s edge. “The last two.”
Number 5 had a bright blue-and-green sail, while 27’s sail was purple with bands of turquoise and hot pink.
She gravitated to 27.
“I knew you’d like that one.” Trey pushed the board into the water.
Danielle sat on the grass and dropped the shoes into the water, then dipped her feet in. Goose bumps rose along her legs. “It’s cold.” She tugged on one shoe, then the other.
“It’ll be fine once you’re used to it.” Jake pulled on his shoes, then stood up and waded into the water, guiding number 5 ahead of him. When he was thigh deep, he sat on the board, then pushed himself to his feet. He grabbed the boom of his sail, then drew it upward. He tipped the slack sail until the wind caught it, and deftly sailed away.
Trey pushed number 27 into the water. “Here, climb on.”
She sat on the board and drew her legs onto it, then knelt as Trey guided the board deeper into the lake.
“Hang on.” He grasped the board, then hopped onto it.
She hung on to the sides as it rocked, then he stood up and the board stabilized. Slowly, she stood up in front of him.
“Pick up the sail,” he instructed.
Cautiously, she leaned down and grasped the boom, then lifted it slowly, keeping her weight carefully balanced on the board. Trey grasped the boom, too, his muscular arms around her, his hands right beside hers.
“Like this. Remember?”
He shifted the boom until the wind filled the sail, and then the board began to move . . . slowly, at first, then picking up speed. A tangle of memories wafted through her brain. Of Trey on the board behind her just like this. Of his body pressed against hers. His closeness sent her off balance. . . . Not physically. Physically, he kept her stable and skimming across the water quite nicely. Her emotions, however, somersaulted through her in wild disarray.
She’d wanted him so much that last summer. It had been building all year, and when he’d taken her on the board . . . when his body had been so close . . . his breath brushing across her nape . . . she’d almost died from yearning. But he belonged with Jake. And for the first time, she admitted to herself that Jake and Trey were one of the reasons she’d switched schools all those years ago.
And now, here she was in the exact same situation again. As she leaned into Trey’s body, she realized she wanted him to want her.
Well, he did want her. The bulge against the back of her bathing suit told her that. . . . But she wanted to be . . . special. That one person he’d want to spend a lifetime with. Which was crazy, especially since she realized she felt exactly the same way about Jake.
How could she want both men to want her as his one and only?
Especially since her whole mission was to bring the two of them together.
Obviously, she had these feelings because the two had been paying attention to her. Treating her special. But that was because they were her friends, not because they planned to forge a lifetime partnership.
Now that she’d finally opened herself to these men, it only made her realize how badly she wanted a lifetime companion . . . someone who would love her forever . . . stay with her forever . . . and that was causing her to jump at anyone who showed her any attention. How pathetic was that?
She had to keep things in perspective.
Trey’s fingers slid over hers as he guided her to shift the boom and the board began to turn. She shifted her weight on her feet to balance as the board tipped into the turn, then straightened out under Trey’s guidance.
“You know, I loved
