Young Millionaire Buys Rundown Boat From Harbor, Never Expected To Fall For Previous Owners Daughter
Lessons in the Bilge
The next morning, Brandon arrived at the marina dressed in what he thought was appropriate sailing attire. He wore expensive but casual clothes from a boutique that specialized in nautical chic.
One look at Brooke’s face told him he’d missed the mark.
“You’re going to ruin those clothes,” she said by way of greeting.
She was wearing worn jeans again with a faded t-shirt and a baseball cap pulled over her ponytail.
“I can buy more,” he shrugged.
Brooke rolled her eyes.
“Of course you can.”
She tossed him a pair of work gloves.
“First lesson: before you sail her, you need to know her. We’re cleaning the bilge today.”
“The what?”
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” she muttered.
There was a hint of amusement in her voice.
The next four hours were the most physically demanding of Brandon’s life.
The bilge, as he quickly learned, was the lowest part of the boat where water collected along with years of grime, marine growth, and God knows what else.
By the end of it, Brandon’s designer clothes were ruined. His hands were blistered despite the gloves, and his back ached in places he didn’t know could ache.
Strangely, he felt good. He felt better than he had after closing his last multi-million dollar deal.
“Not bad for your first day,” Brooke admitted as they sat on the dock afterward sharing a thermos of coffee she’d brought.
“Most people would have quit after the first hour.”
“I’m not most people,” Brandon said, wincing as he stretched his sore shoulders.
“No,” she agreed, studying him with those ocean blue eyes. “I’m starting to see that.”
Over the next two weeks, they fell into a routine.
Brandon would arrive at the marina each morning and Brooke would assign him some seemingly impossible task.
He spent days replacing rotted wood, scraping barnacles, or learning the bewildering array of knots essential for sailing.
She was a demanding teacher, never letting him take shortcuts or do a halfway job. But she was also patient, explaining things as many times as needed until he got it right.
Slowly, the Siren Song began to transform under their care. So did Brandon.
“You actually look like you belong on a boat now,” Brooke commented one afternoon as they finished painting the cabin.
Brandon had long abandoned his expensive clothes for practical work wear. His once manicured hands now bore the calluses and small scars of honest labor.
“Is that a compliment from the great Brooke Fisher?” he teased.
Their initial weariness had gradually given way to an easy camaraderie that Brandon found himself looking forward to each day.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she retorted, but her smile told a different story.
“We might actually get to sail this thing next week if the weather holds.”
“Can’t wait,” Brandon said, and he meant it.
Hesitating slightly, he added, “What about dinner tonight to celebrate our progress?”
Brooke’s smile faltered.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? We’ve spent every day together for two weeks.”
“That’s different. This is work.”
She busied herself cleaning a paintbrush.
“Besides, I’m sure the restaurants you’re used to are a bit out of my price range.”
“I’m buying,” Brandon said.
He immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say from the way her shoulders stiffened.
“I don’t need your charity, Brandon.”
“It’s not charity, it’s a thank you.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was longer now than he usually kept it.
“Look, I know you think I’m just some rich guy playing at being a sailor, but these past two weeks have meant a lot to me.”
Brooke looked at him, then really looked at him, as if seeing past the surface for the first time.
After a long moment, she nodded.
“Okay, but I pick the place.”
The restaurant Brooke chose was about as far from Brandon’s usual dining spots as possible.
It was a small family-owned place right on the waterfront where the decor consisted mainly of fishing nets and buoys. The menu was handwritten daily based on the catch.
The seafood was the freshest Brandon had ever tasted. Watching Brooke relax as she told stories about growing up in this coastal town made something in his chest tighten pleasantly.
“So why boats?” Brandon asked as they shared a slice of homemade key lime pie. “Your dad got you into it?”
Brooke nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“Some of my earliest memories are on the water. Dad was a marine biologist; taught at the community college here. Mom left when I was little, so it was just him and me.”
“The Siren was our home away from home.”
Her expression clouded.
“When he got sick, the boat was the last thing he wanted to let go of.”
“What was wrong with him?” Brandon asked gently.
“Cancer. Fought it for three years.”
She took a deep breath.
“The last time we sailed together was about a month before he died. He could barely stand, but he insisted. Said he needed to feel the wind one more time.”
Brandon reached across the table and squeezed her hand. To his surprise, she didn’t pull away.
“What about you?” she asked, clearly wanting to change the subject. “How does a millionaire tech guy end up scrubbing bilges in Havenport?”
Brandon laughed softly.
“My therapist’s idea, believe it or not. Said I needed to find something that money couldn’t buy me.”
He hadn’t meant to be so honest, but something about Brooke made it easy to open up.
“I built my first company right out of college, an app that helps people manage their finances. Sold it for eight figures when I was 26. Started another one, sold that too. Now I mostly invest in startups.”
“Sounds exciting,” Brooke said, but her tone suggested otherwise.
“It was at first. Now it’s just empty,” he shrugged.
“Turns out having enough money to buy anything you want isn’t all that fulfilling when there’s no one to share it with.”
Brooke studied him, her head tilted slightly.
“No family?”
“Parents died in a car accident when I was in college. No siblings.”
He tried to keep his voice casual, but Brooke’s expression softened.
“So we’re both orphans,” she said quietly.
“Guess so.”
After dinner, they walked along the moonlight harbor, their conversation flowing more easily than Brandon could remember experiencing with anyone in years.
When they reached the Siren Song, Brooke hesitated.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said, suddenly awkward again.
“But I should remind you that this,” she gestured between them, “is temporary. Once the boat is ready and you know how to sail her, I’m gone.”
Brandon felt an unexpected pang at her words.
“What if I’m a slow learner?”
She smiled despite herself.
“You’re not. You’re annoyingly quick.”
Before he could respond, she leaned up and kissed his cheek lightly.
“Good night, Brandon.”
He watched her walk away, realizing with startling clarity that the boat wasn’t the only thing he’d be sad to lose when their arrangement ended.
