7. TROY

Chapter seven

TROY

I can't believe I let Drew talk me into this.

A sailing lesson? Me?

I'm a CEO, for crying out loud, not some beach bum with nothing better to do. But here I am, standing on the dock in shorts and a polo shirt, feeling completely out of place.

"Come on, Troy," Drew had said, grinning like an idiot. "You need to loosen up a bit. Experience the local culture."

Local culture. Right. As if I care about that.

The salty breeze whips around me, messing up my hair. I run a hand through it, grimacing. I bet I look like a disaster already, and we haven't even started.

"Mr. Troy?" A cheery voice calls out. I turn to see a sun-weathered man approaching, all smiles and relaxed posture. "I'm Captain Mike. Ready for your lesson?"

No, I want to say. I'm not ready. I want to be back in my room, making deals and running my empire. Not... whatever this is.

Instead, I force a smile. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Captain Mike laughs, clapping me on the back. I stiffen at the contact. "That's the spirit! Let's get you on board."

As I follow him to a small sailboat, I can't help but think of Skye. Would she laugh if she saw me now? Probably.

The thought of her smile makes my stomach do a weird flip. Which is ridiculous. She's infuriating, with her sass and her stubborn defense of this backwater town.

So why can't I get her out of my head?

I climb onto the boat, nearly losing my balance. Captain Mike steadies me, and I mutter a thanks, feeling my cheeks heat up.

This is humiliating.

"Alright, Troy," Captain Mike says, "let's start with the basics."

For the next hour, he walks me through knots, wind direction, and steering. It's... not terrible, I guess.

There's a certain logic to it that appeals to my business mind. But it's also physical and unpredictable in a way that sets my teeth on edge.

By the time we're sailing, I'm a mix of frazzled nerves and reluctant excitement. The wind fills the sail, and we cut through the water. It's... exhilarating, in a terrifying sort of way.

"You're doing great!" Captain Mike encourages.

I'm about to reply when I spot something on the shore. A food truck. Her food truck.

My heart races, and not just from the sailing. Is Skye there? I squint, trying to make out if that wild mane of curls is behind the counter.

"Everything okay?" Captain Mike asks.

I tear my eyes away, focusing back on the sail. "Fine," I grunt. "Just fine."

But as we turn back towards the dock, I can't help but glance at the shore again. And I can't quite explain the disappointment I feel when I realize the food truck is closed.

What is wrong with me?

***

I'm starving by the time I get back to shore. Who knew sailing could work up such an appetite? As much as I hate to admit it, I did enjoy myself out there.

Not that I'd ever tell Drew that.

My stomach growls, reminding me that room service at the inn isn't going to cut it tonight. I need a big meal.

Sighing, I head towards the main street, looking for somewhere that won't give me food poisoning. This town better have at least one decent restaurant.

I spot a place called "The Salty Dog" that looks marginally acceptable. It's busy, which I guess is a good sign.

Rolling my eyes at the nautical-themed decor - seriously, how cliché can you get? - I push open the door.

And that's when I see her.

She's sitting at the bar, laughing with the bartender. The sound of her laughter hits me like a punch to the gut. It's warm and genuine, nothing like the forced chuckles I'm used to hearing in boardrooms.

For a moment, I just stand there, staring like an idiot. She hasn't noticed me yet, and I’m considering turning around and leaving. But then my traitorous stomach growls again, loud enough that heads turn.

Including hers.

Our eyes meet, and I see the smile fade from her face. Great.

"Well, well," she says, raising an eyebrow. "Look what the cat dragged in."

I straighten my shoulders, trying to regain some dignity. "Skye," I nod, keeping my voice cool. "I didn't expect to see you here."

She snorts. "It's a small town, Troy. Where did you expect me to eat? My truck?"

I narrow my eyes.

Damn it. Why does she always manage to get under my skin?

"I'm sure there are other establishments," I say stiffly.

"Sure," she shrugs. "But Jake here makes the best fish and chips in town." She gestures to the bartender, who's watching our exchange with obvious amusement.

Just then, a loud crash comes from the kitchen, followed by a string of curses. Jake winces. "Uh oh. Sounds like we're down a fryer." He turns to the crowded restaurant. "Folks, I'm sorry, but we're going to have to cut down to half capacity tonight. If you haven't ordered yet, I'm gonna have to ask you to come back another time."

A chorus of groans fills the air. I'm about to turn and leave - no dinner is worth this hassle - when Skye pipes up.

"Hey, Troy," she says, and I can hear the challenge in her voice. "Want to share my table? I already ordered, but I'm sure Jake can squeeze you in if you're with me."

I blink, surprised. Is she actually being... nice?

But then I see the glint in her eye. She thinks I'm going to say no. She's daring me to step out of my comfort zone.

Well, two can play at that game.

"Sure," I say, flashing her my best boardroom smile. "Why not?"

The look of shock on her face is almost worth the discomfort I feel as I slide into the booth across from her.

Almost.

As Jake brings over a menu, I can't help but wonder what I've gotten myself into.

Dinner with Skye Martinez. The woman who infuriates me, challenges me, and, though I'd never admit it out loud, intrigues me more than anyone I've met in years.

This should be interesting.

***

As we step out of The Salty Dog, the evening air is cool and crisp. I'm wondering what’s next when Skye speaks up.

"Want to walk? It's a beautiful night."

I hesitate. A walk means more time with Skye. More confusion. More of these... feelings I can't quite explain.

But I find myself nodding anyway.

We stroll along the boardwalk, the sound of waves a constant backdrop. Our hands swing close to each other, almost touching. Each near miss sends a jolt through me.

"You know," Skye says softly, "you're not quite the jerk I thought you were."

I snort. "Gee, thanks."

She laughs, bumping her shoulder against mine. "I mean it. You're... different than I expected."

I glance at her, catching the soft smile on her face.

My heart does that stupid flip again.

"You're not so bad yourself," I admit. "For a small-town food truck owner."

Skye rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling. We stop at the edge of the pier, looking out at the moonlit water.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she whispers.

I look at her, at the way the moonlight plays on her curls, at the soft curve of her cheek. "Yeah," I say, my voice rough. "It is."

She turns, and suddenly we're face to face.

Close. Too close. I can see those flecks of gold in her eyes, smell the faint scent of her perfume mixed with sea salt.

My gaze drops to her lips. They part slightly, and I hear her sharp intake of breath. I lean in, drawn by some force I can't explain or resist.

Our lips are just inches apart when a loud group of teenagers runs past, laughing and shouting.

We jump apart, the moment shattered.

Skye clears her throat, her cheeks flushed. "We should, uh, probably head back."

"Right," I nod, trying to ignore the disappointment coursing through me. "Back to the inn."

The rest of the walk is quiet and almost awkward.

I can’t stop thinking about her lips.

When we get to our rooms, we stop for a moment.

And then Skye turns to me with a soft smile, a mix of emotions playing across her face. “We’re here.”

I nod. “We’re here.” Then a thought enters my head. “Can I have your number?”

“Uh, why? We’re not friends, remember?”

I grin. “We’re not friends yet.”

She chuckles slightly and tells me her number.

Then. "Goodnight, Troy," she says softly, before disappearing into her room.

I stand in the hallway for a moment, staring at her closed door. My lips still tingle from the almost-kiss. My mind races with everything that happened tonight.

As I enter my own room, one thought keeps circling in my head. I'm in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

Because despite everything - our differences, my mission here, the complications - I can't deny it anymore.

I think I'm falling for Skye Martinez.

And I have no idea what to do about it.