Sailor Proof (Shore Leave 1)

“You remembered I like chocolate?” His little pleased chuckle went straight to my groin.

“That and you’d probably be more impressed if I took you to some obscure tuba or didgeridoo concert, but we better pick something that I know for sure actually occurs. The fewer holes in our story the better.”

“Yeah. Okay. I like it.” Arthur slapped his thigh. “First date was the zoo concert. Second was a car show. And third was none of their business.”

I coughed. And coughed again, oxygen suddenly in short supply.

“Careful there. Work on not having a horror movie recoil at the idea of sex with me.”

“I wasn’t—”

“It’s okay. Just stick to the story and we’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t so sure, but I let the conversation drift off rather than end up in even more uncomfortable territory. No good could come from telling him it wasn’t horror that stole my breath but rather sudden, swift desire. Damn kiss, lurking near every conversation.

We continued our drive north, but it didn’t take too much silence before Arthur wiggled around in his seat again. The guy’s need for perpetual motion made me smile even as I wished he’d pick a position and stick with it.

“Does your stereo have a connector for my phone?” he asked.

“It should.” I’d installed a nice stereo a few summers back, a modern one with GPS and an interface for my phone. “Feel free, but please tell me you’re not still in your Austrian Funeral Dirge phase.”

“That was one summer.”

“And then there was the phase where all you listened to was obscure ancient computer stuff.”

“Eight-bit chiptunes. Classics. But no worries, I’m not subjecting you to those.”

“I’m still nervous.” I laughed, this lightness between us both welcome and kind of weird, how easy it was to be around him.

“Don’t be. I made us a special playlist last night.”

“You probably make a playlist for getting groceries,” I teased as we took the Hood Canal Bridge with its spectacular view of both the canal and sound.

“Guilty.” Arthur fiddled around with his phone and the stereo until a vaguely familiar seventies ballad filled the car. “And I had fun, trying to figure out what music a silent, brooding sailor might like.”

“You could have asked me.” We’d texted a few times in the lead-up to today’s journey, mainly practical stuff, but I wouldn’t have minded some conversation. Hearing from him made my chest do a little skip, and I couldn’t decide whether it was anticipation or guilt over the continuing deception.

“Now, what’s the fun in that?” Arthur hummed along with the music, perfectly in tune. He’d always been more obsessed with instruments and digital music, but his singing voice was quite pleasant, and I let one song bleed into another until I had to laugh.

“Does every song involve water in some way?”

Arthur made a happy noise. “You guessed it. Yay.”

“You’re easy to please.” I shook my head.

“You have no idea,” Arthur muttered as the song changed to one I knew, an oldie that had been in a movie my grandmother had loved, and I sang along. Our voices mingled nicely. We weren’t going to win any music reality shows as a duo, but he was fun to sing with.

“You’re good,” he said as we finished.

“That’s what I hear.” I waggled my eyebrows at him, loving his easy chuckle.

“Did you ever do choir? Like high school?”

“Nah. I’m not really the performing type. I’d sing along with my grandma and the radio, though. She had a nice voice and could play piano. Made me take a couple of years of lessons.” I groaned at the memory of her hawk-nosed, exacting music teacher friend who had made me do scale after scale. I’d preferred her other friend, Flora, the cranky loudmouth who swore worse than any sailor in my crew and who spurred my love of classic cars.

“Lessons are the worst.” His voice was sympathetic. Outside, the landscape was much more rural, endless acres of evergreen trees, and we weren’t even to the mountains or the national park yet.

“Says the guy who taught himself a half dozen instruments. We’re not all geniuses like you.”

“Not quite genius, but at least my fake boyfriend has a high opinion of me.” Arthur sounded happy, like all the sunshine and gorgeous scenery was working its magic on him, making him all punchy and adorable.

“Ha. You’re impressive and you know it.” I let his ego have the win, but his tease also reminded me of something I’d wanted to ask him on the drive. “Speaking of the fake-boyfriend thing, though, how do you want to play this?”

“What do you mean?”

“We covered the backstory, but what sort of boyfriend are you wanting me to be? Distant? Attentive?” I tried to keep my voice casual. This was strictly data collection so that our ruse didn’t fail the first night of the reunion.