Rooftop Cinema Seduction by the Sailing Instructor

The sea breeze carried the sharp tang of salt and distant fish fry as it whipped across the rooftop of The Gull’s Nest, the old converted warehouse turned boutique hotel that overlooked the harbor of Port Haven. String lights twinkled like lazy fireflies between wooden posts, and a giant inflatable screen flapped gently in the wind while the opening credits of some forgettable action flick rolled. Twenty-odd people from Jake’s week-long sailing intensive sprawled across mismatched blankets and low deck chairs, laughing too loudly at the on-screen explosions and passing around buckets of popcorn and cheap rosé.

Jake lounged near the edge of the gathering with the easy confidence of a man who knew exactly how good he looked in faded board shorts and a half-unbuttoned linen shirt. His sun-bleached hair was a tousled mess, and the perpetual half-smirk on his tanned face suggested he was perpetually three seconds away from either saving your life at sea or ruining your panties. At twenty-eight he’d been teaching these courses long enough to spot the exact type of woman who’d give him the most entertaining week.

Sophie was that type in spades.

The 26-year-old marketing executive from the city had spent the last four days matching him quip for quip during every lesson, her competitive streak somehow making her even sexier as she hauled lines and barked orders at the tiller like she was born on the water. Tonight she wore a breezy white sundress that kept trying to ride up her toned thighs every time the wind gusted. She’d parked herself on the blanket next to him after “accidentally” spilling her wine on the guy who’d been trying to chat her up, then flashed Jake a wicked little grin that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Nice rescue,” Jake murmured, leaning in so only she could hear. “You always drown your competition in Pinot Grigio?”

“Only the boring ones,” Sophie shot back, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth with deliberate slowness. “Besides, I figured if anyone was going to annoy me tonight, it might as well be you. At least you’re pretty to look at while you fail.”

Jake clutched his chest like she’d shot him. “Ouch. And here I was about to wow you with my legendary bowline knot. I can tie one in six seconds flat.”

“Six seconds?” She arched an eyebrow, lips twitching. “That’s adorable. I last longer when I’m brushing my teeth.”

He laughed, low and genuine, then reached for the spare length of rope he’d tucked into his pocket earlier like the hopeless show-off he was. “Watch this, city girl.”

What followed was less a demonstration of nautical prowess and more a comedy of errors. Jake attempted a dramatic, one-handed flourish meant to impress her, but the wind caught the rope at exactly the wrong moment. The loop whipped around Sophie’s ankles instead, cinching her canvas sneakers together in an accidental, ridiculous knot that looked like a deranged sailor had tried to hog-tie a lawn flamingo.

Sophie stared down at her bound feet, then up at Jake’s horrified face, and burst out laughing so hard she fell backward onto the blanket.

“Oh my God,” she wheezed between giggles. “You absolute walnut. Did you just lasso my shoes?”