Chapter 13

Jacob

THE COCKTAILS were being served by the bucket load on the upper deck, which was illuminated by concealed art lights built surreptitiously into the white body of the hull. Pillers people swirled around us, giddy with this newfound luxury. We were all used to working out of dull corporate offices, on construction sites, or some combination of the two. This felt like walking into the world of the Kardashians or the Clooneys.

The moment we walked onboard, Sierra made a beeline for Amy. I tried not to take it personally, and instead resigned myself to mingling with some of the Tampa folks I knew. We chatted and drank and chatted and drank considerably more. From what I heard tell, Charles was impressed with Pillers. This gave me palpable relief — the happier he was, the more likely my business would stay in the black.

But while I was chatting and drinking, out of the corner of my eye I was also watching.

Sierra probably didn’t remember that she’d told me — it was a passing remark made back when we were together — but I knew she was afraid of the water and couldn’t swim. Even on a boat like this one, with high railings and ample safety features, I imagined she might be a bit jumpy. Of course, she would never beg off this cocktail hour, she was too proud, but that didn’t mean she was loving the event.

I was watching her nervously fiddle with the Champagne coupe in her hand when I saw Charles signaling me from across the deck. With no small amount of reluctance, I tore my eyes from Sierra and sauntered over to where Charles sat, sprawled out on what appeared to be a high-end deck chair. What did this guy want? Another round of the Newlywed Game? More golf? Billionaires, I thought with exasperation. Such a pain in the ass.

Aloud, I said, “Hey, Charles, thanks for hosting us. Your boat’s a beaut.” From years as a golf caddy, I knew how to speak his language.

He nodded approvingly. “Thanks. I’m considering buying another. What do you think?”

“Another yacht?” I asked incredulously.

“Correct.”

I took a sip of what I was sure was obscenely expensive Champagne, and replied drily, “Maybe you could give the money to charity instead.”

There was a long beat of silence, and for a second I thought I’d ruined everything, but then Charles clapped his hands together and said, “What a wonderful idea! Perfect! You’re a smart man, Jacob.”

I restrained my eyebrows, which desperately wanted to leap to the top of my forehead with dismay. Instead, I stuck with a polite ‘thank you.’

“Actually, I’d like to talk to you about something,” Charles continued. “Not yacht related. I’d like to hear more about Got Wood, about your business model, finances, history. So on and so forth.”

I tilted back a little with surprise. We’d been here a full day and this was the first time Charles had really mentioned the future retirement home, let alone my own personal company. I saw a cold glimmer in his eye, like that of a shark, and realized, He’s not so daft after all. I guess it stands to reason — it’s not like he made his mountains of cash through sheer eccentricity. Charles the businessman had finally shown his face. And that face was a hard, unflinching one.

“Well, I’d be happy to tell you all about it,” I replied. At the very least, this felt more relevant than his endless string of games. “See, Got Wood, like Pillers, is a family company. It was started by my father back in—”

And just as I was finally about to get down to brass tacks with Charles, the boat started forward with a sudden lurch. My drink sloshed onto Charles’ suit front as a couple other guests gasped in surprise.

“Oh man,” I began, reaching to dab Charles’ shirt. “I’m so sorry about that—”

“Don’t worry,” he replied. “Just choppy waters.” To the company, he said loudly, “Nothing to worry about, folks, just the boat leaving the dock, everything’s fi—”

“Woman overboard!” a voice shouted. “Woman overboard!”

The party on the upper deck descended into chaos. People began to scream.

“Where is she?”

“Over there, somewhere.”

“Does anyone have a phone light?”

“Goddamn, where’s the captain?”

I raced to the side of the railing where people seemed to be gathering and began pushing them aside, scooting to the front of the crowd.

After a moment, I got a glimpse of the thrashing body creating white waves. It was Sierra.

I found myself falling into the waves too, but on purpose. I jumped in, without a thought, over the railing, a smooth, two-story plummet into the dark waters. I didn’t have time to think, to consider my safety. She was in danger — she needed me. It was hot out, but the water was still chilly. I felt it seep through the fabric of my suit, felt it go damp and cold and drag me down.

Sierra’s arms hit madly at the water, her head rising and falling under the waves. I frog-kicked over to her, my hands paddling frantically in front of me. My mind was leveled by a sudden, powerful clarity, a single-mindedness that I’d never felt before. Save her, my inner voice said. Save her.

I made it to where she was splashing and bobbing, and got my forearms under her armpits from behind. She tried to make a noise, maybe to say something, but it was all watery coughs. I leaned on my back, using the weight of my body to lever her up and into a floating position. Was this good lifeguarding technique? Possibly not. I didn’t care. I’d drown if that’s what it took to save her.

The waves around us stopped, and Sierra went still. For a long, heart-pounding second I thought that she was passed out, or God, maybe dead, but then I heard her splutter a little. She’s alive, I thought, with such relief that I had to resist the urge to cry.

“Sierra?” I whispered into her ear, hoping she wasn’t too waterlogged to hear me.

“Jacob,” she breathed.

That was all I needed, that reassurance that she would make it. “Shh, shh,” I said. “You don’t have to talk. Just lie back on me, that’s a girl, lie back and I’ll get you out of here.”

She nodded a little, and tilted back until she was flush on my chest, her pale skin beaded with drops of ocean in the moonlight. I was reminded of Ophelia, with a bouquet of flowers in her hand.

There was a large splash near us, and I turned to see that the people on the ship had thrown us a life preserver. They were saying something but my adrenaline was too high to decipher it. This was survival mode.

With Sierra still carefully balanced atop me, I began to maneuver us over to the life preserver. After a few moments, and a few feet, we reached it, and I took one of Sierra’s hands and placed it on the buoyed object.

“You’re safe,” I told her. “Feel that? Hold on to it.”

She gripped the life preserver, but didn’t move away from me. Her grasp on it was tenuous at best, so I wrapped my left arm around her chest and under her arms, trying to avoid her breasts, and hooked my right arm around the preserver.

“Pull us in!” I shouted to those on board.

The rope began to move rapidly, and we were tugged closer and closer to the back of the ship, where a small loading deck floated. As soon as we reached the deck, my free hand found a steel ladder. Luckily, it was close to the water, so I wouldn’t have to lift our damp bodies too far.

With a deep inhalation, I stepped on the ladder and inched onto the deck, Sierra in tow. The exertion made it all a blur — my vision swam before me.

Finally, we were on solid ground. I exhaled, and laid Sierra down on the wooden planks, her damp hair curling around her, mermaid-like. She was paler than usual, with a frightening blue tinge, and her eyes were closed. She shivered. I had to warm her up.

I took her hands between mine and began to rub them rapidly, back and forth, like I was kindling a fire.

“Wake up, Sierra,” I pleaded.

Through trembling lips, she replied, “I-I-It’s cold.”

“I know, hon, I know it is.”

“Hold me,” she asked in a whisper. “Please.”

It probably wasn’t a good idea. I knew that cradling my ex couldn’t lead to anything smart. But Sierra had just had a near-death experience. There was no time to worry about awkwardness.

I flopped down at her side, spooning my body around hers. She fit against me so snugly — minus the eerily cold touch of her skin, it was so familiar. I kneaded the skin of her arm, coaxing the blood flow back.

That’s right around when my stupid body began to betray me. Despite the cold, and the adrenaline, I could feel a boner beginning to rise in my damp trousers, hard against her tailbone. I scooted away quickly, but not before she shifted her head to look over her shoulder.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I replied.

She raised an eyebrow, which embarrassed me but was also a sound reassurance that she was coming back to life.

Just then, the people from the upper deck came racing down to us, Joe, Tom and Charles in the lead.

“My God,” Charles said, seeing us lying on the platform. “What—”

Joe interrupted, “Are you okay, is she okay?”

I nodded, and Tom breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

Sierra slowly sat up, and responded, with an attitude of mild embarrassment, “I’m fine. I’m so sorry, I don’t know how I fell over, it—”

“Don’t apologize,” Charles interjected sternly. “Not your fault at all. The captain should’ve warned us we were departing. Idiot.”

She stared at him blankly, and I knew that her energy for dealing with crazy billionaires was all used up for the night.

Before anyone else could grill her, I said, “Ladies, gentlemen, maybe I’d better get her back to the mansion. Sierra?”

“Yes, please,” she murmured.

The faces looked concerned, but relented.

As Charles radioed the captain, Joe gave her another look. “Are you sure you don’t want medical attention?” he asked her in an almost paternal tone.

She shivered, but replied, “I’m okay, really, just worn out.”

“Well… if you’re sure.”

In no time, the boat had re-docked. We hadn’t moved very far, after all. Our little platform touched the edge.

“Do you think you can walk?” I asked Sierra.

“Of course,” she replied, with her normal indignation but not quite the usual level of spunk. “Please, just get me off this ship.”

“Deal,” I grinned.

Our bosses and Charles helped me lead Sierra off the boat, with promises to make our apologies to the rest of the company and assurances that we’d see them tomorrow.

We made it onto dry land, and the boat soon pulled away once more, jetting off into the night as Charles waved back to us. Apparently, the whole ‘woman almost drowned’ thing wasn’t enough to put him off a midnight escapade.

With my arm under Sierra, we began to make our way back to the mansion, but I could feel how weak she was.

“Don’t get mad,” I told her, before swiftly scooping Sierra into my arms, her feet leaving the ground and sailing into the air. Her arms intertwined, as though by instinct, around my neck.

“I’m not mad,” she whispered. “Take me home.”