Chapter 4
FOUR
Layla
The silence in the house pulses after Arianna and Carter pull out of the driveway, leaving Jack standing at the kitchen counter, leaning on locked elbows, head down between his hard biceps.
“You okay?” I ask, a wave of fear chilling me because he suddenly feels so far away. Cold. Like the minute they left, something in him changed.
He doesn’t look up, but nods, still staring down at the countertop, rocking back and forth as though he’s holding back some explosion. My heart skips a beat as I swallow and count the seconds, wrapping my arms around my waist.
I’m still wearing my bathing suit top, paired now with the cut-offs I wore earlier, and Jack’s changed into a loose-fitting pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with Broke Jack Charters and his logo printed on the back in bright red.
I try not to stare but it’s hard. He looks broken and I want to go to him and be the comfort he needs. I push up on my tiptoes on the deep cream and brown swirled rug that covers the hardwood floor between two soft, navy-blue chenille sofas.
The room is warm and comfortable, the fabrics and wood rich and stylish but homey. I know Arianna helped Jack redecorate after she moved in. He wanted her to make the place feel like hers. After all, they barely knew each other and even though he agreed in a heartbeat to take her in after he found out she was his, there was still a bit of a transition period for them both.
The redecorating gave them something to focus on together, and together they turned what Arianna described as a minimal, barely sufficient to sustain life interior of the house, into a home that reflected both of them.
“You hungry?” he finally barks and I look over to see the flex of his jaw. His brow is drawn tight and there’s a tension in his shoulders.
I shake my head. “Not really. Carter and I stopped on the way. I had a big salad.”
It’s half true. We did stop and I did order a salad but I’m still hungry. Growing up, my mother valued my sleek form and how it aided in my skill as a dancer. It’s been a hard habit to break even though Carter certainly lets me eat whatever I want. Sometimes, he fills my plate and I have to shuffle the food around to make it look like I’ve eaten more than I have. Tricks you pick up in ballet to keep your weight down are shared generously by other dancers. And their mothers. And hard to shake after so many years.
“Salad isn’t enough.” Jack finally stands straight, his t-shirt tugging over his chest as he inhales. “You’ve lost more weight since I saw you last.”
“Not really,” I lie again and I can see from his look he’s not buying it.
He grunts something unintelligible as his cell rings on the counter. He shifts, leaning against the counter behind him and taps the screen, putting the call on speaker.
“Yeah?”
“Hey boss.” It’s a female and immediately a roar of jealously spikes inside of me. “We’ve got the Rosenoff party boarding The Tripoli and they are saying they were promised five hours, not three. I’ve got your manifest here saying leave the dock by six, return by nine.”
“Yeah, it’s a signed contract.”
“Well, the dad is adamant and wants to talk to you. We don’t have enough fuel for the other two hours and the harbor master’s station is closed. He’s pissed and we’ve tried to calm him down but he’s making a big scene. The daughter is crying, the mom is yelling…and all of them are already pretty lit.”
Jack looks at me as I turn, my cheeks hot as he catches me staring again.
“Fine.” He grunts, squeezing his forehead. “I’ll be there in ten. Just calm them down best you can, tell them I’m on my way.” He clicks off and pulls his lips tight against his teeth on an exhale. “You wanna stay here, or come down and start working with me? Show you the glitz and glamour of the charter industry?”
He pushes off the counter, stuffing his hands down in his jeans pockets, and once again I take note of the thick pole of cock behind his zipper.
“Let’s get to work. Teach me, sensei.” I give him a little bow and he makes this sound like a pained sigh.
He tips his head toward the door. “Shorts are okay, but here…” He tosses another one of his company t-shirts my way. “Put that on.” He gives me one last hard look, scanning my chest before opening the door and waving me outside. “You’ll cause a riot with that swimsuit. That’s not for public viewing. Ever.”
I take a deep breath as I let the t-shirt fall over my head. It smells like Jack. The scent of the lake, his spicy cologne and whatever else it is about his natural scent that always puts me into orbit.
The short drive to the marina, Jack stares straight ahead but there’s something different about him. He’s always been quiet, brooding, but this is more tense, like when you’re waiting to have a difficult conversation and neither person knows how to begin.
He’s uncomfortable. He keeps switching his hands on the steering wheel, running one through his hair, shifting his body in the seat. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to upset him, but I can’t take the discomfort anymore.
“Did I do something to make you mad?”
He flips his head around, glaring at me, and my stomach drops a thousand feet. “What? What could you have possibly done to make me mad?”
His question is harsh and it only sends me a little deeper into the darkness that’s cloaking me.
On a shrug, I pull on the fingers of one hand with my other. “I’m not sure. You just seem upset.”
His chest rises and falls with a heavy breath, turning his eyes back toward the road, tension hardening the muscles in his arms as they lock straight, gripping the wheel.
“I’m not mad. Not at you.”
“Something else? You can tell me.”
His face softens the slightest bit, his eyes flicking to my face, then to my tits, lingering a moment before they snap back to the road. “I’m always mad about something. Thought you’d know that by now.”
A shiver dances through me as dampness pools between my legs. His arms are everything. The hard biceps, the movement of the muscles and tendons in his forearms, that twitch of his triceps. He’s not super cut like some gym-rat guys. He’s more beefy, a thickness around his middle, his torso only making him sexier to me. But, dang, his arms, they are every kind of panty-melting dream come true.
God, I want him so much, and from what I can tell, he’s just indifferent to me. At least in that way.
“Yes. I’ve noticed.” I force a smile as he looks at me again with such intensity in his dark eyes. Hunger maybe? His eyes drift up and down and goosebumps rise, my nipples tingling and hardening, pushing out through the bathing suit top and t-shirt.
He takes a turn into the marina and while he rolls his window down to talk to the security guard at the gate, I let my own gaze drift. It’s not just his arms that are hard, and once again, I wonder if he maybe has some medical condition that makes him like this all the time. I can’t remember a time in the last couple years that I didn’t notice that thickness behind his pants. The outline of something with a girth that makes my insides rearrange as a clutch in my core sends a blast of heat over my skin.
He pulls the enormous rumbling shiny black Ford pickup into a space by a small building with Broke Jack Charters painted on the front window, and it makes me smile remembering his story behind the name.
When he started out, he was way broke, just arrived here in Cherry Falls, spent nearly every cent he had on the land where he built his house. He’d always loved the water, loved the idea of having a boat but had zero experience.
But, he wanted to chase his dream so he bought his first renovation boat, named Chaos and started his business. He’s far from broke now, I’m certainly not privy to his bank account status, but from his house, the other boats he owns, and the way Arianna talks about his investments and how she never wants for anything, he’s done well for himself. I’m secretly proud of him. And Carter of course. They booth paid for the crimes and turned their lives around.
He shuts the engine off and opens his door. I do the same, but before I can get out he’s right there, glaring at me, holding the door so I can’t push it open any farther.
“You should always have the door opened for you.” He grunts on a sniff, that pained look back on his face as he pulls the handle and I step onto the running board as he extends his other hand to help me step down.
The touch of his hand sends a zing of energy through me and I can’t believe I’m the only one of us that feels it. It’s palpable, making me nearly gasp like I’ve been zapped by a lusty sort of taser, and I stumble on the step down.
Jack’s arms are around me in an instant, my chest pressed against his side as my hands fly out to grab his iron-hard forearms.
“Sorry,” I half mumble, setting myself back right, looking up with an awkward smile. “Guess I have sea legs on land.”
“They’re great legs,” he replies softly, like he’s talking to himself. He clears his throat, brushing his hands down my arms, then nods down the dock. “Come on. I gotta take care of this shit. Then, we can go get something to eat maybe.”
“I’m not hungry.” He shoots a stern look at my automatic reply but he turns and starts lumbering down the wooden dock toward where voices and music drift on the breeze from a large white moored boat at the end of the walkway.
As we approach, a large man dressed in a tropical sort of shirt and black trousers throws his arms in the air when he sees Jack.
“You trying to cheat us?” he bellows, and Jack looks my way as we get close to the group on the dock.
“Wait here.”
His back is straight, shoulders back as I watch him walk toward the angry man. The customer is gesturing, talking louder than necessary, like a scene fueled by a bit too much alcohol. Jack’s got that perfectly imperfect swagger, a little more weight on his left leg but there’s no hesitation. He’s fearless, calm and I can’t imagine not feeling safe with him, no matter what the circumstances.
As Jack and the man start to talk, a young woman wearing one of his red charter t-shirts and white shorts joins them. I listen to the sounds of the water, the boats in the slips swaying, hardware clanging on aluminum mast heads and seagulls squawking overhead, then wander a little closer, wanting to hear what’s going on, but more than that I just have this pull to be near Jack.
The conversation with the customer seems to calm as Jack taps a clipboard, showing the man something on the paperwork as a group of five younger men and women a bit older than me come stumbling off the boat, laughing and carrying red Solo cups. They see me as they approach and one of the guys smiles, holding up his cup.
I nod, realizing they probably think I’m part of the charter crew.
“We gonna get underway now the rest of the crew is here?” one of the girls asks. She’s wearing a skimpy, skintight pink and black leopard-print mini dress with Kat Von D eyeliner and Tammy Fae mascara.
“I’m not sure…I’m not—”
“Are you part of the crew?” One of the guys gets within a few inches of me and I can smell the alcohol on his breath, his eyes glazed as he sways unsteadily.
“No, I’m just—”
“Hey, hold on…” He doesn’t let me finish, narrowing his eyes then looking at the girl standing next to him. “She looks like that girl…you know. That one you make me watch all the time. Give me your phone.”
He holds out his hand and she pulls her phone from her cleavage, handing it over.
He taps the screen as some of the group keeps walking, leaving me with just the guy and pink leopard girl, who doesn’t say anything but is giving me the hard stink eyes.
“Yeah! It is…Look!” He holds the screen in front of pink leopard girl and her eyes dart from the phone to me, then back, then again.
“Yeah, guess you’re right.” She eyes me up and down. “Where’s your Tutu?”
Oh shit. I close my eyes for a second. Not this. Not now. Not here.
He hands the phone back to the girl and closes the few inches left between us. My body clenches, heat covering me as the breeze swirls over my skin.
He raises his hands in mock karate chop sort of motions. “You wanna show me what you got? Or…” He moves his hands above his head like he’s going a pirouette. “You wanna dance?”
I shake my head, stepping back, blood rushing in my ears like a raging river. “No. I’m just here helping a friend.”
“He’s your friend?” The girl finally speaks, looking toward Jack, screwing up one side of her face.
“Well, he’s my friend’s father, I’m staying with them a few days.”
Why I feel the need to tell them anything is beyond me, but that ‘be nice’ voice of my mother’s has a far reach.
Staying with him I think to myself, but that’s not anything this half-baked duo needs to know.
“Show us some moves.” The girl gives me a sarcastic smile and the guy nods as she holds up her phone like she’s taking a picture or starting to record.
“Yeah, like, what if I did…this!” He swirls around behind me, getting me in a soft choke hold, but my instincts kick in. I don’t think he means to hurt me, but he has zero right to touch me, so I stomp down hard on the top of his foot, spin around and thrust the knuckles of my fist into his throat.
He gags, doubling over, spitting and coughing as the girl squeals.
“What the fuck are you doing? He was just playing around!” I glance her way, she’s still holding the phone up capturing the scene, but I don’t care, he touched me first and I defended myself.
“He wanted to see what I’d do, so I showed him.” I shrug, my jaw tight as I back away, the guy finally getting his breath and standing, one hand rubbing his throat.
“Skinny fucking bitch—”
He stands, stepping into my space again as my fists ball at my sides. The world is a blur as I gather the tension in my muscles, focusing on him, anticipating…
“You wanna fucking die?” Jack’s voice cuts through my tunnel vision and I stumble back as he spins the guy around by the shoulder toward him. “You fucking touch her again, you’re going to be pulling your balls out of your throat.”
“Fuck you.” The guy bounces his chest off of Jack’s.
Jack has several inches and about a hundred pounds on him, and besides, he’s just meaner and that’s a huge advantage. There’s the fire of rage in his eyes as the guy jerks his head around toward me.
“She fucking throat punched me.”
He turns my way and Jack’s on him, but the guy is already swinging. Jack ducks, landing a hard right upper cut into his gut as the girl jumps him from behind.
They spin and tussle, Jack extricating pink leopard from his back without much trouble, but the guy is coming on strong. Jack spins, grabs him around the throat.
“I’m going to post this, what you do when someone meets you. You’re a bitch TutoDanceFighter!” The girl shouts.
“Just settle the fuck down.”
The guy doesn’t seem to know what’s good for him.
He tugs at Jack’s arm, bending and twisting, then hooking his foot behind Jack’s knee and throwing his weight forward.
“Jack!” I call but it’s too late.
Gravity takes control. There’s a huge splash as they fall into the harbor and the rest of their party comes running over, screaming and cursing. Jack is the first one up the ladder onto the dock as I back away and six or seven other people appear from other boats at the marina, lining up to have Jack’s back.
“Get the fuck out. Your charter is cancelled.” He shakes water from his head, nodding toward the other end of the dock.
“I paid you for five hours!” The older man screams.
“Sue me. Get the fuck out. Get your shit off my boat before I throw it all in the fucking lake.”
“You want me to call the sheriff?” The woman with white shorts and a charter shirt squeezes through the chaos as the group flips Jack the bird, calling him all sorts of creative names, as he wipes the green-tinted harbor water from his face.
“No. They’ll leave.” He turns and looks at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You sure?” His voice deepens and there’s a spinning inside of me that quickens.
Adrenaline and lust are a potent mixture as Jack peels his wet t-shirt over his head, dropping it with a sloppy plop on the dock and pulling me toward the little office, nodding toward the woman in white shorts and the other people that have shown up.
“Just everyone clear the area. Let them leave. If they don’t, I’ll take care of it, just give them space. Cowards hate an audience.”
Inside the small building, Jack’s fingers brush down my arm then gather my wrist, pulling me back into what I know is his private office. There’s no one else inside the building but he closes the door, making me tense as a pulsing starts between my legs.
“Please, don’t tell Carter about that…what happened. He’s so…”
“Protective.” Jack’s voice is a low growl, which only heightens the tense vibration in the air between us.
“Yeah.”
“Carter doesn’t need to know everything.” His indigo blue eyes are locked with mine and the way he says it makes me wonder if we are both talking about the same thing.
As much as I fight it, I can’t keep my eyes from the front of his jeans, wondering if it hurts, the way his cock looks desperately trapped behind the zipper, pushing up all the way to the tarnished brass belt buckle holding the worn brown leather belt in place.
He’s a real man. No other boy has ever made me feel the way Jack does. I know most girls my age would think he’s too old, too grumpy, even maybe a little on the heavy side, but I’ve never been more attracted to anyone in my life.
The adrenaline from the altercation outside must be giving me some sort of ancillary courage, because I step forward, swallowing the ping-pong ball stuck in my throat as a low rumble comes from Jack’s chest.
“What are you doing?” he grunts, the muscles in his chest hardening, his jeans still dripping onto the wooden floor around his feet.
“Thanking you?” I nibble on my lip, my fingers trembling as I run them up his chest, hearing him draw in a sharp breath like he’s touched a live wire.
I press myself against him, running my hands around the back of his neck, my cheek against his chest just over where his heart is thumping like a mad drummer under his hard pectoral muscle.
“Fuck, Layla…” His voice cracks as I hug him tighter, feeling the length of his erection grow against my hip.
I don’t move, counting the seconds as his muscles twitch in his shoulders, and finally the pressure of his hands swoops up my back, gathering around me, nearly pulling me off the ground with the force of his hug.
I’m touching him.
God, it’s better than I imagined. Even with the scent of the harbor water on him, I’m intoxicated. Drunk on the moment, the feeling, the electricity flowing between us.
I feel the word slipping out…
The word I barely dare think…
Slipping…
Daddy.
Just before I lose the ability to stifle my voice, there’s a knock on the door.
“Jack.” It’s the voice of the girl with the clipboard from the dock. “You in there?”
“Yeah, what?” he barks, but instead of letting me go, he pulls me tighter, like I’m his life vest as we float, drowning in the moment.
“Just letting you know, they’re gone. Left the boat a mess, just wanted you to sign off on the contract. Don’t think you’ll be giving them back any of their security deposit. Oh, and the harbor master is outside…wants to talk to you.”
“Fuck.” Jack rests his chin on the top of my head for a second, his breathing faster along with his heartbeat. “Be right there.”
I release my hands just as Jack loosens his grip.
“Work first,” I say as I step back.
“Wrong. You come first, but I need to deal with this so I can show you what coming first really means…”
My insides spin into knots as the hunger in his eyes flashes. Maybe this isn’t just one-sided. Maybe, just maybe…
He takes a long breath, running a hand over my cheek before turning toward the door. I follow a few steps behind as we go outside, watching him walk with the young woman, then stop to talk with an older, salty-looking man as I try to get a grip on myself.
He’s going to show me what coming first really means.