NautiCal (Forever Wilde 8)

I closed my eyes and lay back on the cool bedding while I let their familiar banter sink into me and fill me with the comforts of home. This beat chicken and rice any day of the week.

“I miss you guys,” I admitted.

“Then come home,” Grandpa said. “Grump went missing the other night, and we found him curled up in your bed under the covers. It’s a sign.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Doc muttered. “It was the only place the air-conditioning was still working after the other unit went kaput.”

“I got another job,” I said. “Well, sort of. I’m… kind of hired on as a preliminary test week before the real interview. It’s hard to explain. It’s a yacht with a first mate who’s expecting a baby soon.”

The silence on the other end of the line was heavy with unspoken words, so I rushed to fill it. “You should see this ship, guys. It’s a Sunseeker Ocean Club Ninety, and it’s kitted out like you wouldn’t believe.”

“A motor yacht,” Doc said. “Interesting.”

“It’s gorgeous,” I said, as if pretty made up for the lack of sails.

“I’m sure it is, sweetheart,” Grandpa said affectionately. “And if it makes you happy…”

“Major,” Doc warned. “We talked about this. Stop being so understanding, dammit. Cal, we think it’s time to come home. You’ve been hiding long enough. It’s time to come up with a new plan. A new dream. And we can help you.”

I knew he was right about the hiding, but I still couldn’t bring myself to face Hobie now that the dream of taking over the sailing school was lying trashed in the gutter.

“I think this will be good,” I said instead. “The crew is really nice, and the owner is… also really nice.”

Excellent. I was doing great with the convincing.

“That’s… nice,” Doc said with a smile. “Really… nice.”

I sighed and threw my arm over my face. “I’m not ready to come home.”

“You’re going to have to face Annie at some point,” Grandpa said softly.

“I know. I just… if she realizes how upset I am by this, she’ll get upset too. And I don’t want that.”

“Her family might sell for the right price,” Doc said, not for the first time. “We could loan you—”

I cut off the conversation we’d already had a million times. “I don’t want a loan. I want to buy the business outright. I just need to do some more work first and be patient. I’ll come up with the money eventually if I play my cards right.” I threw a bunch of stupid idiomatic language at them to sound more hopeful than I was. The reality was that it would take years of working and saving before I could offer to buy the camp. And by then, there was no telling what would be left of it.

Grandpa cleared his throat. “Your mother and father called.”

Shit.

“They think you should come to Singapore for a visit. They have the national sailing team, and your father knows someone who—”

“No,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m not going to live with Mom and Dad and have Dad introduce me to his rich friends. I’ve told him that a million times. Besides, I have no interest in corporate-sponsored racing.”

“Told you,” Doc muttered to Grandpa. “He gets this from you, you know. The stubbornness.”

“The stubbornness, as you call it, has kept me with an ornery partner for a million years. If I was quick to give up, where would we be? Huh? Tell me that.”

“I love you,” I inserted into the middle of their marriage quibble. “I love you both so much.”

Apparently, I was feeling emotional.

Grandpa paused. “Sweetheart, are you okay? You sound… some kind of way.”

I felt my chin begin to wobble. It was probably a side effect of being parented and being reminded of how much I was loved. “I’m okay. I just… I’m…” I took a breath and tried to figure out how I was feeling. They’d always been good about encouraging us to feel our feelings and communicate them. “I’m so grateful to have you, and I’m so thankful that you let me stay in Hobie when Mom and Dad moved away.”

I heard Doc whisper an Oh shit, Wes, in the background, and Grandpa shushed him softly before coming back on. “We would do anything for you and your siblings. You know that, right? Anything at all. We love you more than we could ever tell you in this lifetime.”

A tear escaped and I nodded. “Yeah. I know.” I swallowed and finally admitted the real problem. “I’m scared.”

“Oh, honey,” Doc said. “It’s okay to be scared of change. And it’s okay to have to start over with a new plan. Do you think your grandpa ever imagined giving up flying helicopters to muck out stalls and raise cattle in rural Texas?”

“You mean I had a choice?” Grandpa teased. I could picture them in the farmhouse kitchen where Grandpa had most likely swatted Doc’s ass.