Remember Me (26 page)

“South.”

In truth, there wasn’t much to be done on the boat and Stacey could’ve sailed her by herself, but she wanted company, that was obvious. Plus, she wasn’t as confident as he and his brothers, so he knew she did like to have someone else aboard with her. Since he was making no inroads wearing down Mason Hatch into telling him where he could find Lucy, Brandon had decided he might as well go with her.

“Take the helm, Brandon,” Stacey told him once they were out on the bay and the wind was pushing them along. “You play captain, and I’ll sit here with a beer. You’ve always been a better sailor than me anyway.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You used to do pretty well with those racing dinghies.”

“Whatever.” She disappeared into the cabin and returned with two beers. “You want one?”

“One. With it being the weekend, I’m not about to get boarded and given a ticket. In case it’s escaped your notice, I don’t have a track record for making great decisions in recent months.”

Stacey pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. “I don’t know, looks to me like you made the decision to go after what you want. That takes some guts.”

Brandon smirked. “Dad suggested it.”

Stacey’s eyes widened. “Father suggested you take time away from work to find Lucy? Yeah. Right. We are talking about Alexander Barlow-Barrett, aren’t we?”

“I know, I know, but it’s true. Swear.” He took one hand off the wheel and crossed his chest. “Mother wasn’t thrilled, but I guess she’ll figure out how to deal with it. Dad actually told her to back off when I got called over to their house for the big lecture dinner.”

Stacey took a long pull on her beer. “Can I touch you? Maybe some of your current favorite son status will rub off.”

Brandon angled them along the shoreline, his gaze focused on the sails. “Don’t think you’ll need it. I think this heart thing’s shaken Dad. He even said so.” He narrowed his gaze on his sister. “So why would you need any luck? Anything you want to talk to your older brother about?”

Stacey opened her mouth, then clamped it shut and shook her head. She took another swig of beer and gave him the fake little society smile he’d always hated. “Everything’s great, silly. What could be wrong? I’ve married my lifelong sweetheart. He’s given me a beautiful sailboat. I have a great house and enough decorating clients to keep me busy. Life’s good.”

“Right.” He handed her the beer. “Here, take this. I want to see what kind of speed I can get out of your little boat since we have such a great wind going today.”

“Not a racing yacht, bro,” Stacey reminded him. “She’s a weekender, designed more for comfort than speed.”

Brandon just grinned.

* * * *

It had taken Lucy a little while to get comfortable with the differences in Mason’s dinghy. Its sleeker hull made it much easier to pick up speed. It had more of a tendency to heel, so she’d adjusted her position in the boat to help balance it. After finding a quiet cove, she’d lowered her sail and bobbed along while she ate her sandwich and drank about half of her water. Lucy rested against the stern and propped her feet up on the gunwale, letting the sun warm her face behind her sunglasses.

She remembered Brandon mentioning his family sailed, but she doubted any of them would be caught dead in a dinghy. No, she could envision him captaining a sleek racing yacht. God knew he was fit enough, but racing could be time consuming if someone was serious about it. Somehow she couldn’t picture the head of Barrett Newspapers getting enough free time to be that devoted to a sport. Kind of the way he’d been about skiing, she supposed. Maybe there was some security in always knowing what he would be doing with his life, but it must have been confining too.

As hard as growing up had been for her at times, she at least had never had anyone breathing down her neck expecting her to follow in their footsteps. She glanced at her watch. Three o’clock. She should head back so she’d have plenty of time to clean before Mason arrived. When she pulled out of her quiet cove, the first thing that struck her was how much busier it was. Well, it was the weekend. Lucy kept a careful eye out because it wasn’t just sailboats out on the water. Plenty of motorized boats raced along the waves this close to Annapolis. They were supposed to yield the right of way to a sailing vessel, but it was foolish to press her rights when she was sailing a dinghy with a motorized cabin cruiser bearing down on her, like now.

Lucy reduced sail, struggling for balance after the other boat failed to slow and she caught its wake. “Damn it. Stupid weekend boaters.”

The dinghy bobbled a bit, but she got it balanced and began working again to set the right trim.

* * * *

“Jesus!” Brandon swore, watching the water ahead of him. “That cabin cruiser almost capsized the dinghy off our port bow.”

Stacey stepped to his side and shaded her eyes. “Brandon! There’s another guy coming up on her starboard side and I don’t think he even sees her.” Stacey’s comment ended with a gasp as the speeding boat veered off to the right at the last moment, narrowly missing the small boat, but disaster was already in the works. The sharp turn sent up a wake the sailboat couldn’t withstand. They watched while the steep wave sent the boat onto its side and the unfortunate sailor flying into the air in a tangle of rigging.

“Here!” Brandon slapped her hands onto the wheel. “Take over and bring us alongside while I start reducing sail. Turn on the motor. Jesus, whoever it is doesn’t seem to be moving.” His temper simmered while his sister maneuvered them near the capsized dinghy. The guilty boater had taken off. “I’m going in. Looks like our sailor’s tangled.”

Brandon pulled his knife from his pocket, opened the blade and jumped overboard when they drew alongside. In the water nearby, he saw a Nationals cap floating amid the debris.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

All he got in response was a moan. Sticking the knife between his teeth, he stroked closer, his heart beating faster when he saw a long blond braid floating out from the lifejacket, which had puffed up enough in the water to obscure the face of the injured sailor. As he closed the distance, he reached feet tangled in rigging first. Grasping the knife in his hand, he sliced through the rope and tugged.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!
Lucy?
Lucy!” Frantic now from her lack of response and not even questioning yet how she’d come to be sailing a dinghy in the bay, he pulled, but her wrist was caught. Rope burns marred her skin and the angle of her arm looked odd. “Lucy? Oh, baby. Come on, let me get you out of here.”

He turned his head over his shoulder, his gaze meeting his sister’s. “Throw me a line, Stacey. It’s Lucy. She’s hurt. Help me get her on board. I’ll secure the dinghy to the rear of your boat.” Between the two of them, they boosted Lucy’s deadweight over the gunwale. Brandon didn’t want to leave her, but he needed to secure the damaged craft. They should file a report with the Coast Guard, but it could be like finding a needle in a haystack unless Lucy had gotten a registration number from the cruiser that nearly ran her over.

Working as fast as he could, it was still several minutes before he pulled himself up the ladder on the stern. Stacey dried Lucy’s ashen face. When he approached, he breathed a small sigh of relief to see her eyes were open. Her gaze darted from Stacey to him and her eyes widened.

“Brandon?” She coughed. “Oh God, I’m going to be sick.”

Not the words he’d hoped to hear.

Stacey turned Lucy’s head sideways. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “You swallowed water.” She turned to Brandon, who was still rooted to the spot he’d been in. “Bran! She’s hurt. I think her arm or her wrist or something is broken.”

“Let me see.” He squatted at her side, taking the raw skin of her wrist in his hand. Being as gentle as he could, he turned it, noting the swelling and bruising in addition to the rope burns. Lucy had turned to watch him with such a wary expression it made his throat ache. “We need to get you to a hospital, baby.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered. When she struggled to sit, Brandon reached out to help her, not surprised that she tried to avoid his touch. Cradling her wrist to her stomach, she brushed her soggy hair off her face. “What about Mason’s boat?”

Brandon stiffened. He couldn’t help it.
Mason’s
boat? “It’s got a broken mast and the daggerboard is missing, but it looks like the dinghy itself is okay.” Everything he was saying came through stiff lips. “Lucy, you need to go to a hospital. I’m concerned you’ve got a fracture.”

She was huddled on the deck, shivering from cold or shock, he wasn’t sure which. “Okay.”

That one word told him more than anything she was hurt and in pain. The Lucy he knew would never give in if she felt all right. He looked at his sister. “Stacey, you have extra clothes?”

“Yeah.”

Though he didn’t want to let Lucy out of his sight, he suggested, “Why don’t you let me take the helm while you take Lucy below deck to help her into dry clothes.”

“What about you?” Stacey asked. “You’re shivering.”

“I’ll be okay. Take care of her first, okay?”

He might piss Lucy off, but he was taking her to the marina where Stacey kept her boat moored. After ensuring the dinghy would tow behind them okay, Brandon set their course and trimmed sail. He was freezing but kept his jaw clenched so his teeth wouldn’t chatter. Amid his worry over how hurt Lucy might be was complete and utter amazement. He had spent the week cruising past her house, haunting Mason’s gallery and lurking around Flamingo Road at night but had never caught a glimpse of her. Had she been here all week? And where was she staying that she’d been out in Mason’s dinghy? Most people kept a dinghy right at their houses. Was she staying with
him
?

He blinked away the moisture in his eyes that he tried to tell himself was from the wind. Grabbing his wraparounds off the shelf near the wheel, he stuck them back on. No sense for his sister or Lucy to see how unmanned he was at the moment.

“She’s in the main cabin, lying down. I’ve given her ice for the wrist and wrapped it the best I could.” Stacey put her hand on his arm. “Why don’t you change?”

“I don’t have…”

“Use Jason’s clothes. He’s not as tall as you, but I found a pair of shorts that should work. There’s a polo shirt and a jacket too. Can’t help you with shoes. Your feet are too big.”

Brandon glanced at his canvas deck shoes. “They’ll dry soon enough. Do you… You think I should check on her?”

Stacey arched a brow. “I think you’d be a fool not to. She’s a captive audience until we make it to the marina, although she did ask about a cellphone.” Stacey paused and her expression tightened. “She wants to call Mason Hatch.”

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out his Droid. Having learned from experience, the phone was in a waterproof case on a lanyard around his neck. Stacey shook her head. “You know I can’t be without my phone, Stacey, come on.”

“Well, I guess that’s a good thing because I left mine in my car. Why don’t you get changed and then help our guest make her phone call.”

Brandon nodded. After stripping in the guest cabin where Stacey had set out clothes for him, he realized he would either have to leave on soaked boxers or go commando. Not much of a choice. He put his bare ass in the shorts that were a bit large. They hung on his hips, but the polo shirt was long enough to cover the sag. Leaving his deck shoes to dry, he knocked on Lucy’s cabin door. Upon hearing her muffled
come in
, he opened the door, his throat tight with anxiety. Lucy turned her face toward him. For a moment, her expression was unguarded.

“Lucy…” he whispered.

Her jaw tightened and the fleeting glimpse of vulnerability disappeared. “I need to call Mason.” She stared at him with an expression that revealed nothing.

“Give me his number. I’ll enter it since you’re one-handed at the moment.”

She recited the number. From memory. Fuck. He handed her the phone, then moved to the door. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Don’t go,” she said. “I don’t know where we’re headed.”

“Right.” Idiot. Of course she needed to know where to tell Mason to find them. Jealousy surged so he wanted to refuse to tell her, refuse any information that would allow Hatch to get anywhere near her.

“Mason?” she murmured. “I took your dinghy out. A cabin cruiser nearly mowed me down.”

Pause.

“I’m okay, I guess. Your…your boat’s not. I’m sorry.”

Pause.

“I’m on a boat. Brandon…” Pause. “Yes, him.”

Another pause. Brandon saw her try to lift her injured hand. She was going to tuck hair behind her ear. She did it whenever she was nervous or upset. He looked away, staring out the small porthole.

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “Where are we going, Brandon?”

“We’re headed to Mac’s Marina outside Annapolis. ETA’s about twenty minutes.”

She relayed the information and listened for a minute. Was that disappointment on her face? “No, I don’t mind. I’ll see you a little later then.” She handed the phone to Brandon. “Thanks.”

He slipped it in his pocket. Spurred by the jealousy eating at him, he asked. “So, is Mason going to meet you at the marina?”

“No. He’s running late.”

Brandon’s hands fisted in his pockets. “I want to take you to the hospital, Lucy. Your arm is injured.”