12
The taxi drops us off at South Beach Harbor Marina. Jasper climbs out and pays the driver through the passenger window while I slide across the backseat.
“Why are we here?” I ask, allowing him to entwine his fingers with mine and lead me down the plank walkway through the boats.
“I hope I’m not being too presumptuous.” He stops us and grabs my other hand with his. “I don’t expect you to do anything. I just didn’t want the night to end.”
A foreign giddiness washes through my body like the ripples of the ocean surrounding us.
I eye the marina, figuring he owns one of the boats. “Which one is yours?” I ask, my gaze scouring all the boats, trying to guess which one is Jasper’s based on what I know of his taste. Unless the flag is a one-hundred-dollar bill I might not be able to figure
