Page 25 of Unmoored: How to Fail at Hating the Boss

“From reading into the situation. I…I liked seeing you like that. I liked the idea of you feeling comfortable in my house. In my space. In my bed, my kitchen. And I didn’t want to make more out of it than what it was.”

For a moment, I stare at her, and the sweet smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. But before either of us can say more, a shadow passes over the lake.

A sudden rain shower sweeps across the water, darkening the ripples and slapping fat droplets against our skin. The wind picks up, whipping at the flags marking the finish line. The buoys bobble sideways in the waves, and the mist on the ridge has been replaced by dark clouds.

“Whoa,” Quincy exclaims, stumbling and slipping out of my grasp.

Quincy smartly sits down when she sees the look on my face, and reaches for a life vest.

Thank god for a worker who reads the handbook.

Eleven

Quincy

The rain comes down in sheets.

Lightning flickers against the low clouds over the ridge, momentarily sketching the outline of the tall trees before shrouding them in rainfall again.

“We gotta get out of here now!” Reef shouts over the roar of the rain as I haul up the anchor.

“What about the sailboats?”

His grip on the wheel is tight as he starts the engine.

“Every one of them knows this lake even better than I do. Or they should,” he replies.

I trust that Reef knows every channel and cove of this place, yet with the promise of bad visibility if the rain gets any worse, I can tell he’s nervous.

Reef grabs the radio from its mount. “All vessels, this is the marina finish station. Return to dock immediately. Repeat: race suspended, return to dock.”

He pauses, thumb hovering over the button.

I hate sitting here, waiting for instructions. But in this scenario, he’s the captain, and I have to trust him to make the decisions.

The radio crackles.

“…Stuck on the sandbar! Need assistance!”

Reef’s head snaps up. “Which vessel?”

“Sailboat thirty-two!”

A moment later, the low whine of a small engine approaches, and Susan appears in a skiff, rain dripping from her visor.

“Half the racers aren’t answering the radio!” she shouts over the wind.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Reef scolds her.

She is indignant. “I radioed you as soon as I saw those black clouds. Nobody was responding to me, and we need to rally these boats and get everyone to safety.”

Reef curses as he examines the sky again. They know the protocols.”

I straighten, rain plastering my hair to my cheeks. Gesturing to Susan’s vessel, I say, “I’ll take the skiff and pull the sailboat off the sandbar.”

“No way!” Reef begins, but I’m already reaching out a hand to help Susan into the speedboat.

“You and Susan need to warn the others and get them all back to the marina!” I call out over the chorus of rain and wind.