Smooth Sailing

“I do.”

“You really don’t like me all that much, do you?”

“Not especially.”

“Why did you come tonight?”

“My friend Ahmaya needed a wing woman and a ride. She doesn’t have a car.”

“You were just going to go off and leave her?”

For one second, she looked shamefaced, but quickly recovered. “Ahmaya’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

“And yet, you came with her.” Jeb raked his gaze over Haley. “Looking like that, I might add.”

A pink blush crept up her neck. “It’s Ahmaya’s dress.”

“You’re stunning.”

“Oh, I feel so special,” she said snidely. “I bet you said that to only a couple dozen women today.”

“More like a baker’s dozen,” he teased.

Her shoulders relaxed a little at that and a tiny smile briefly lit her lips. Small victory. With Haley, he’d take his triumphs where he could get them.

“Are you still planning on running away?”

“I’m not running away.”

“Seems to me you are.”

“I can’t run in these shoes. I was walking away or, more accurately, hobbling away.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like parties.”

“Why not?”

“They’re too crowded. I don’t like crowds.”

“Uh, you forget I saw you in action in those relief camps right after Hurricane Sylvia. The tents were packed tighter than sardine cans and you were right in the middle of it.”

“That was different. I was helping people.”

“C’mon back to the party,” he coaxed. “I’ll let you give the Heimlich maneuver if anyone chokes on a canapé.”

There was that brief smile again.

His heart gave a strange bunny hop. He held out a hand. “C’mon.”

They stood there a moment; Haley posed on the top steps, Jeb at the bottom, groveling, palm outstretched.

“Don’t leave me hanging, ba—” He almost said baby but stopped in the nick of time.

“Why should I come back to your party?”

“For one thing, you’re a good friend. Ahmaya needs you.”

“Low blow.”

“I’ll use any tool in the arsenal.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care so much if I’m at your party or not?”

It was a very good question. He didn’t have a glib answer handy and ended up just blurting out the truth. “I’ve got enough yes-men and yes-women around me. I need someone who knows how to luff a sail.”

“A what?”

“There are no brakes on a sailboat. The only way to slow down is to luff the sail. That means to under-trim the sail so it doesn’t catch any wind.”

“In other words, I’m a brake, huh?”

“Well, you know you are a stickler for rules, etiquette, proper behavior and all that.” He waved a hand.

“A wet blanket.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“A Debbie Downer.”

“I didn’t say that, either.”

“Why would you want a brake at your party? Parties are supposed to be go, go, go. No-holds-barred. Looks like you’d want an accelerator, not a brake.”

“Don’t be offended by the brake comment. A brake is a good thing,” he said. “A brake is very necessary. A brake keeps you safe.”

“Like a mother?”

He shoved fingers through his hair. “This isn’t going well, is it?”

“Not in the least.” She folded her arms over her chest, but the smile was back and stayed a fraction of a second longer this time.

“Come luff my sails, Haley.”