Freshwater Kisses (The Kisses 3)

Robbie was silent, his green eyes searching the waves as if they could reveal some sort of answer. The words came out slowly as he said, "I had forgotten that."

He looked up at me and then shook his head. "But that was before. As I got older, it was always about the company with him. How I should be involved and do stuff with it. Always."

"Robbie, that company was his life. He and your mom poured their blood, sweat, and tears into that company. It was like their child. And I know you hated it, but can you imagine how much it hurt them when you wanted nothing to do with it? It would be like your son not wanting to sail." I stepped up close to him, tipping my face up under his so he had to look at me. "I'm not saying they were right, but it wasn't just that they were harping on you."

Robbie sighed, turning his head away from me. I knew he didn't like being told he was wrong, but to see his heartache over his father's perceived dislike of him was something I couldn't bear. I had to do something to stop it.

"The company was his life. I tried, but I just never understood what was so interesting about oil and accounting. No wonder he loved Jack more," Robbie said sullenly.

I put my fingers on his cheek, turning his head back to look at me. "Jack casts a big shadow, and it's hard to get out from under it. You got the unlucky casting of the second son." I smiled gently at him. "But Robbie, just because your brother and your father bonded over the company, and you didn't, doesn't mean he didn't love you any less. He gave you his candy bar."

Robbie pulled away from my gaze, blinking away tears. I could practically hear the thoughts buzzing through his head as he reevaluated his memories and tried to look at his father as just a man. It was difficult not to see his father as the god that all children see their parents as, but he was trying.

"You aren't your father Robbie. But you are his son. I see the best parts of him in you. The same unstoppable drive and desire to succeed." I put my hand on his shoulder again, and he sat very still under my fingers, staring out at the water. "You never give up and neither did he, you just have different passions. His was his business; yours is sailing. Your passion drives you, and sometimes it blinds you to the things around you. His did. He still loved you, he just got wrapped up in the company and forgot to look around."

He turned slowly, his green eyes full of emotion. There was a depth to him that I loved. His hand found my cheek, his fingers soft and gentle. "I'm looking around now. And I see you."

I smiled under his hand, leaning forward to kiss him. Our lips touched for only a moment, but it was full of tender emotion.

"I love you, Sam. I think I always have. You bring out the best in me, and you help me to see clearly. I don't know what I would do without you." His fingers caressed my cheek and then tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Our eyes were locked, and I was lost in his green depths, swimming away on his love.

"I love you too, Robbie," I whispered. His fingers dropped to my chin, guiding my mouth to his. I could taste the candy on his tongue. My heart sang in my chest because Robbie loved me. And I loved him. There was nothing that could ruin this moment.

"So this is what champions do to practice?" A voice called out across the water.

Robbie stiffened and we both fell back, glancing about to discover the owner of the voice. On our port side a beautiful and very expensive racing yacht labeled The Gauntlet was pulling up next to us. Thomas Grant was at the wheel, a smirk twisting his lips under oversized sunglasses.

I scrambled to my feet, wiping away the kiss with the back of my hand. I wished the blush would fade, but I knew I was beet red. Robbie gave a wooden smile, raising his hand in a welcoming gesture.

"Hello, Thomas." Robbie's voice was monotone.

"Robbie! I hear you're entered in the Champion of Champions race? Good luck. Sarah here's won it three years running. We're looking to make it four." Grant sneered and motioned to a stunning young woman handling the ropes of The Gauntlet's gray sails. She was model perfect with dark hair, olive skin, and intense brown eyes. I recognized her immediately as Sarah Parish, one of my biggest sailing inspirations.

"Good luck to you with that," Robbie called back. He sauntered to the railing, leaning over to peer into the water. "The Gauntlet, eh? She appears to be listing a little to the starboard."

"What?" Grant frowned and then regained his composure. "I'm sure it's nothing. Since we've happened to run into you out here, I was wondering if you'd be interested in a friendly race? You know, as practice for the big day coming up?"

Robbie and I glanced at one another and I grinned. I was tired of drills; a race would be perfect practice. Plus I wanted to drive him into the sandy bottom of the ocean and bury those stupid sunglasses.

"That sounds like fun," Robbie answered with a grin. I rubbed my hands together; adrenaline was already starting to creep into my system. I lived for racing.

"First one to Blue Cove Harbor. Start at Shark Tooth Rock, round the buoy, and into the harbor. Normal rules." Grant gave a mirthless smirk that made me feel a little sick to my stomach. "I can't wait to see what the competition for the race is going to be like."

Robbie and I turned toward one another and grinned. We were going to make him eat our bubbles.

***

We maneuvered the two boats toward Shark Tooth Rock. A jagged piece of gray granite reared out of the water, looking very much like a giant shark had left a tooth pointing to the sky. I had the jib up, the wind crackling through the sail as we coaxed our boat to a strong starting speed. Robbie and Grant exchanged nods as they both crossed the imaginary starting line emanating from the rock. I grinned. The race was on.

The buoy was upwind, so we began a series of tacks. The Gauntlet and Avery's Hope crisscrossed paths as we each zigzagged at 45 degree angles to the wind, allowing us to sail "against" the wind. Each turn required us to change the sheet positions, controlling the sails in unison. If we didn't do them properly, or in sync, we would fall behind.

The sails crackled like strange clouds, and water sprayed up into the air, shimmering like diamonds as it landed on the boat. My feet thudded against the deck as I hurried to and fro, adjusting sheets and following Robbie's commands. I loved this part of the race; the part where anything was possible and the world was nothing but wind and waves.

"He's coming in on the starboard tack," Robbie called out. "We're going to go to port."

"Got it, Skipper!" I yelled, running to the jib sheets and positioning them to tack. The wind blew my hair into my eyes, but I didn't let go of the lines, concentrating solely on my task. We needed to turn to catch the wind in the other direction.

"I need more helm!" Robbie yelled with frustration as the boat started to slow as we lost the wind. "We're not on our angle!"