bar. You weren’t with your friend or his party. You didn’t talk to anyone who approached you. You were your own island."
"And then you walked over," he said quietly, a little shaken that she'd read him so well.
"What were you trying to forget?" she asked.
"It wasn't any one thing, not a single moment or a single death; it was everything combined. I was tired, and even though I'd gone to the island to relax and blow off some steam, I couldn't get into the party mode. I couldn't waste time having meaningless conversation with people I didn't care about and couldn't relate to." He paused. "And then you walked down the bar."
"Because you were watching me."
"I couldn't take my eyes off of you."
"There were lots of pretty women in that bar," she said with a bit of a self-conscious smile.
"But you were more than that. You were smart and funny, and you didn't let me get away with my lame pickup lines."
"They were pretty bad," she agreed.
"I was out of practice."
"You said that at the time. I had a hard time believing it, because you know you're not bad looking."
He smiled. "Thanks."
"So how come you were out of practice?"
He knew she was using her questions to avoid his, but at the moment they were talking, and that was a good thing. "I was focused on my career in my early twenties, and then I was deployed for a long time. I lost some friends, and my life got a little dark for a while," he said, glossing over those bad years. "I didn't feel like I was in a position to start something with anyone."
"I'm sorry, Drew. I can't imagine what you went through, but I do know what it's like to lose people you care about."
"Who have you lost, Ria?"
"Well, I lost my grandfather. He's the one who taught me how to sail. From the time I could walk, he had me out on his boat. He was a commercial fisherman in his day job, and on the weekends we would go out in his sailboat." She paused. "We lived here in San Francisco at the time, so this bay feels a lot like home to me. And it did to him, too. His whole life was on the sea, which is probably why he ended up divorced. His wife said the sea was his mistress. And he used to tell me that my grandmother wasn't really wrong. He was always happiest on the water."
"Like you. It sounds like you were close."
"We were. My grandfather was my anchor. My parents didn't get along well. I'm not even sure why they got married in the first place. All I remember is them fighting. They got divorced when I was eleven. And the next year my grandfather died. That time was a little dark for me," she said, using his own words.
"But you still continued to sail after your grandfather passed."
"Yes, I joined some junior sailing clubs so I could get back on the water. No one else in the family had a boat, so that was my only option."
"And now you sail for a living. Not a bad job."
"I'm lucky to be able to do what I love. It doesn't pay a lot, but enough."
"Do you still bartend?"
"Sometimes. What about you, Drew? When did you decide to become a pilot?"
"When I was fourteen. My dad's friend took us up in his small plane, and I was hooked. The first time I took the controls, I knew that's what I wanted to do for the rest of my life."
"And did you always have your eye on flying for the Navy?"
He smiled. "My first goal was to fly the fastest planes I could find. Fighter jets seemed the best option. But once I got in the Navy, there was more of a need for helicopter pilots so I changed directions. I liked the fact that helicopters require the pilot to really fly them, and the stealth factor was appealing. I could set down in remote locations. I could go where no one else could."
"You have an adventurous spirit."
"Yeah, kind of like you."
"Did you ever get shot at?"
"Lots of times. I only had one hard landing."
She gave him a knowing smile. "Is your idea of a hard landing equal to someone else's idea of a crash?"
"Possibly," he conceded.
"When you left the Navy, did you ever consider a civilian
"And then you walked over," he said quietly, a little shaken that she'd read him so well.
"What were you trying to forget?" she asked.
"It wasn't any one thing, not a single moment or a single death; it was everything combined. I was tired, and even though I'd gone to the island to relax and blow off some steam, I couldn't get into the party mode. I couldn't waste time having meaningless conversation with people I didn't care about and couldn't relate to." He paused. "And then you walked down the bar."
"Because you were watching me."
"I couldn't take my eyes off of you."
"There were lots of pretty women in that bar," she said with a bit of a self-conscious smile.
"But you were more than that. You were smart and funny, and you didn't let me get away with my lame pickup lines."
"They were pretty bad," she agreed.
"I was out of practice."
"You said that at the time. I had a hard time believing it, because you know you're not bad looking."
He smiled. "Thanks."
"So how come you were out of practice?"
He knew she was using her questions to avoid his, but at the moment they were talking, and that was a good thing. "I was focused on my career in my early twenties, and then I was deployed for a long time. I lost some friends, and my life got a little dark for a while," he said, glossing over those bad years. "I didn't feel like I was in a position to start something with anyone."
"I'm sorry, Drew. I can't imagine what you went through, but I do know what it's like to lose people you care about."
"Who have you lost, Ria?"
"Well, I lost my grandfather. He's the one who taught me how to sail. From the time I could walk, he had me out on his boat. He was a commercial fisherman in his day job, and on the weekends we would go out in his sailboat." She paused. "We lived here in San Francisco at the time, so this bay feels a lot like home to me. And it did to him, too. His whole life was on the sea, which is probably why he ended up divorced. His wife said the sea was his mistress. And he used to tell me that my grandmother wasn't really wrong. He was always happiest on the water."
"Like you. It sounds like you were close."
"We were. My grandfather was my anchor. My parents didn't get along well. I'm not even sure why they got married in the first place. All I remember is them fighting. They got divorced when I was eleven. And the next year my grandfather died. That time was a little dark for me," she said, using his own words.
"But you still continued to sail after your grandfather passed."
"Yes, I joined some junior sailing clubs so I could get back on the water. No one else in the family had a boat, so that was my only option."
"And now you sail for a living. Not a bad job."
"I'm lucky to be able to do what I love. It doesn't pay a lot, but enough."
"Do you still bartend?"
"Sometimes. What about you, Drew? When did you decide to become a pilot?"
"When I was fourteen. My dad's friend took us up in his small plane, and I was hooked. The first time I took the controls, I knew that's what I wanted to do for the rest of my life."
"And did you always have your eye on flying for the Navy?"
He smiled. "My first goal was to fly the fastest planes I could find. Fighter jets seemed the best option. But once I got in the Navy, there was more of a need for helicopter pilots so I changed directions. I liked the fact that helicopters require the pilot to really fly them, and the stealth factor was appealing. I could set down in remote locations. I could go where no one else could."
"You have an adventurous spirit."
"Yeah, kind of like you."
"Did you ever get shot at?"
"Lots of times. I only had one hard landing."
She gave him a knowing smile. "Is your idea of a hard landing equal to someone else's idea of a crash?"
"Possibly," he conceded.
"When you left the Navy, did you ever consider a civilian
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