Read Online She: Part 2 by Annabel Fanning - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Annabel Fanning
Tags: She
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in bringing me here is so much more than I’ve experienced in my life before now.
“That’s why I’m taking you somewhere special,” he continues.
We’re going somewhere specific, I wonder, I thought the experience was simply going out on the ocean. “Where to?”
“C’est une surprise,” he smiles. It ’ s a surprise .
At the end of the jetty our boat sits in the water and a man stands on the dock, patiently holding a silver tray with two flutes of champagne on it.
“Bon après-midi,” he nods at us. Good afternoon . “Appréciez s’il vous plaît,” he says, as we take the flutes. Enjoy .
Logan helps me step into the boat, which I do carefully, willing myself not to spill the champagne; this stuff is too good to waste. Once Logan’s onboard as well, the butler-cum-waiter walks back up the jetty drawing my line of sight with him, and I gaze at the charming-looking hotel with admiration. I can ’ t believe I ’ m really here , I muse again, brimming with love for the man sitting next to me.
Before I miss my chance, I quickly finish my champagne and while we wait for our skipper to arrive, I take out my phone, hit the camera app, and capture the view in every direction. One attempt at a panoramic shot, which includes the hotel, the ocean vista and Logan on the boat, results in a photograph that I know instantly will end up on my wall.
“La plus belle vue,” I smile at Logan. The most beautiful view . And he really is. No amount of architecture or Riviera views, stunning though they may be, come close to how heart-achingly beautiful Logan is. He is rare amongst men, and certainly unprecedented to me.
He enjoys watching me play the tourist, grinning back at me, before he stands up and puts both of our champagne flutes back onto the dock. “Alright, well… I guess we should get moving,” he says, walking right up to the control deck. He starts flipping switches and pushing buttons and the boat comes to life beneath us.
I stare at him incredulously, my mouth open in surprise, and when he glances over his shoulder to check my reaction, he laughs jovially at what he sees.
“Surprise!”
“ What ?” I exclaim. “You can drive this thing?” When he quipped earlier about the skipper needing to eat , I assumed he was joking.
“I can, and I will be,” he nods, walking away from the controls, and opening a few side latches until he finds what he’s looking for. He hands me a couple of blankets. “It’s going to be cold on the open water,” he tells me.
I take them gratefully, wrapping them both around me, covering up my outfit, which is comprised of my favourite boots, my dark blue jeans, and one of Logan’s shirts.
“Are there, uh, any lifejackets? I ask tentatively, not wanting to insult his skipper skills.
He grins at me. “Of course, but you won’t need one.”
“If you say so.” I stand next to the controls and pretend to start pushing buttons and pulling leavers. “But you may need one,” I play with him.
“Can’t you keep your hands off of my goods?” he teases me right back, and I laugh out loud at his double entendre.
A few minutes later, the jetty shrinks behind us, as Logan points us out to sea. When we’re a good distance from the shore, he turns the steering wheel south. He seems proficient, though knowing so little about boating myself, I wouldn’t know if he weren’t. We’re still safely onboard after the first ten minutes, a good sign by all accounts, so after that I push any doubts to the back of my mind, reminding myself that Logan would never take me out like this if he weren’t sure of his own abilities.
He pushes the accelerator and we speed across the water. My hair is going to hate this , I think, already dreading the tangles. But aside from that drawback, the experience is incredible. It feels liberating and empowering somehow, to be out on the ocean by ourselves. The eye-catching coastline zooms past us on our right, and all around us, the water
“That’s why I’m taking you somewhere special,” he continues.
We’re going somewhere specific, I wonder, I thought the experience was simply going out on the ocean. “Where to?”
“C’est une surprise,” he smiles. It ’ s a surprise .
At the end of the jetty our boat sits in the water and a man stands on the dock, patiently holding a silver tray with two flutes of champagne on it.
“Bon après-midi,” he nods at us. Good afternoon . “Appréciez s’il vous plaît,” he says, as we take the flutes. Enjoy .
Logan helps me step into the boat, which I do carefully, willing myself not to spill the champagne; this stuff is too good to waste. Once Logan’s onboard as well, the butler-cum-waiter walks back up the jetty drawing my line of sight with him, and I gaze at the charming-looking hotel with admiration. I can ’ t believe I ’ m really here , I muse again, brimming with love for the man sitting next to me.
Before I miss my chance, I quickly finish my champagne and while we wait for our skipper to arrive, I take out my phone, hit the camera app, and capture the view in every direction. One attempt at a panoramic shot, which includes the hotel, the ocean vista and Logan on the boat, results in a photograph that I know instantly will end up on my wall.
“La plus belle vue,” I smile at Logan. The most beautiful view . And he really is. No amount of architecture or Riviera views, stunning though they may be, come close to how heart-achingly beautiful Logan is. He is rare amongst men, and certainly unprecedented to me.
He enjoys watching me play the tourist, grinning back at me, before he stands up and puts both of our champagne flutes back onto the dock. “Alright, well… I guess we should get moving,” he says, walking right up to the control deck. He starts flipping switches and pushing buttons and the boat comes to life beneath us.
I stare at him incredulously, my mouth open in surprise, and when he glances over his shoulder to check my reaction, he laughs jovially at what he sees.
“Surprise!”
“ What ?” I exclaim. “You can drive this thing?” When he quipped earlier about the skipper needing to eat , I assumed he was joking.
“I can, and I will be,” he nods, walking away from the controls, and opening a few side latches until he finds what he’s looking for. He hands me a couple of blankets. “It’s going to be cold on the open water,” he tells me.
I take them gratefully, wrapping them both around me, covering up my outfit, which is comprised of my favourite boots, my dark blue jeans, and one of Logan’s shirts.
“Are there, uh, any lifejackets? I ask tentatively, not wanting to insult his skipper skills.
He grins at me. “Of course, but you won’t need one.”
“If you say so.” I stand next to the controls and pretend to start pushing buttons and pulling leavers. “But you may need one,” I play with him.
“Can’t you keep your hands off of my goods?” he teases me right back, and I laugh out loud at his double entendre.
A few minutes later, the jetty shrinks behind us, as Logan points us out to sea. When we’re a good distance from the shore, he turns the steering wheel south. He seems proficient, though knowing so little about boating myself, I wouldn’t know if he weren’t. We’re still safely onboard after the first ten minutes, a good sign by all accounts, so after that I push any doubts to the back of my mind, reminding myself that Logan would never take me out like this if he weren’t sure of his own abilities.
He pushes the accelerator and we speed across the water. My hair is going to hate this , I think, already dreading the tangles. But aside from that drawback, the experience is incredible. It feels liberating and empowering somehow, to be out on the ocean by ourselves. The eye-catching coastline zooms past us on our right, and all around us, the water
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