Love Overboard

Chapter 25

JON’S SACROILIAC COMPLAINED LOUD AND long. His lower back didn’t appreciate remaining stock-still for an hour. He should have laid his jacket against the wall so he had a brace to lean on. Too late now. Moving might wake Lacey.

His location offered a clear view of Amante’s cot through the open doorway. The man hadn’t budged since he fell asleep. A large black bag rested under his head instead of a pillow, the strap wrapped around his right arm. Was there a reason why he wanted to keep it close? The security guard better take a look inside the moment they boarded the ship.

Jon eased his cell phone out of his left pocket. No messages. Not surprising since it continued to sound like a tropical depression outside.

Lacey shifted against his shoulder. He craned his neck to check on her. That tiny crease between her eyebrows had finally disappeared. Her still-damp hair pressed against his neck, and the flowery scent of her shampoo tickled his nostrils. Jon stared at the stained ceiling tiles above his head.

God, help?

Not his most eloquent prayer, but one of the most heartfelt. Back to square one. Longing for something out of reach. He wanted to be much more than a friend to Lacey, but she always ran away. How could he prove his sincerity?

Thunder boomed like someone had shot a cannonball through the room.

Lacey jerked and rose to her knees. She blinked. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long enough.” He tapped his opposite shoulder. “If you want to catch a few more winks, use this side. You’ve got a red mark the size of Tampa on your cheek.”

She covered the spot with her fingers, walked to the doorway, and surveyed the gymnasium.

Jon stood, and his back cracked. He rubbed his spine as he wandered behind Lacey, peering over her head.

Sleeping bodies filled the cots. Peace reigned. Except for the garbage-disposal snoring of the person in the corner.

“They’re fine, Lace. The ship still hasn’t texted me. No one’s coming to get us yet.” He gently tugged her into the office and led her to the empty cot along the wall. “Rest here. It’ll be more comfortable than my shoulder.” Jon placed his hand on top of her head and pushed her down. Reaching to the nearby table, he grabbed a bottle of fruit punch, twisted off the cap, and passed the drink to her. “Try this and get some more sleep.”

Lacey reached for the bottle but fumbled. It tilted between them, and the punch splashed the right sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Oh no!” She shook the bright-red liquid onto the floor.

“Here.” Jon grabbed the towel she’d used on her hair. He bent and dabbed at the sleeve. “You were supposed to drink it, not wear it. This isn’t a good look for you.” He smiled. It faded when he saw the tears welling. “Hey, I didn’t mean it.” He tossed the towel aside and took her by the arms. “You can wear anything. Fruit punch. Orange juice. Spinach smoothie. I bet you’d start a new trend.”

She shook him off and covered her mouth and nose with her hands. Muffled words squeezed out from behind her fingers.

Jon backed up with his arms held high in surrender. “I have no idea what you said.”

Lacey brushed the tears from her face. “I said, ‘Stop being so nice.’” She rubbed her sleeve against her nose. “It’s hard enough to keep my distance when you’re pestering me. When you act like this, I can’t resist.”

Jon lowered his arms and spread them out. “Then don’t.” He held his breath.

Her eyes darted back and forth, panic-stricken. Her chest heaved in short, desperate puffs. She rose from the cot, shoved by him, and headed for the door. He watched her leave. Again. Like they were stuck on a sick, twisted carousel, going around and around but never getting anywhere. What were the secret words that would make her stay?

“Please?”

Lacey stopped at the threshold, facing away from him.

Jon remained where he was. He couldn’t force her to love him. It had to be her choice.

“I don’t know why you’re scared of us being together again.” His hands twitched at his sides. “But I promise I won’t let you down. Like with the spiders. I keep my word.”

Her body swayed forward, but her feet stayed in one spot. She wavered, and Jon’s mind whispered the same prayer from earlier.

God, help?

Lacey turned. She moved one step closer. Then another. Her eyes fixed somewhere around his chin. He fought to stay where he was, wanting to make it easier, but telling himself he couldn’t rush her. Was she trembling? Her vulnerable expression scraped at his heart. She drew near enough that her two feet nestled between his as she stood with her nose a centimeter from his chest.

Jon wrapped his arms around her body so tight his elbows almost met in the middle. He bent his head and buried his nose by her neck, breathing in the smell of shampoo, fruit punch, and Lacey—that indefinable scent that had haunted his dreams for two and a half years. What if he woke and found it was all a fantasy?

Lacey’s hands crept around his waist and stretched up his back. Her soft frame pressed against his.

No. His imagination wasn’t this good. If the moment was for real, he’d better have her sign on the dotted line while she was feeling amenable.

“Does this make it official?” He raised his head. “Are we a them?”

“A what?”

“No longer a him and her. A them. A pair. A couple. Have we finally crossed the dreaded just-friends barrier into an honest-to-goodness romantic relationship?”

“I admit, I’m scared. But I don’t want to be. I want to be”—she took a breath—“with you.” Lacey pulled away—not out of his arms but far enough to look up at him. “I’ll agree on one condition.”

“Name it.”

The corners of her mouth rose. “Don’t tell the Shippers.”

He laughed and checked over her shoulder, half expecting to see Emily gloating in the doorway. “They might have us under surveillance as we speak.”

“No. We managed to sneak this one by them.”

Jon studied her playful expression. “And why don’t you want to tell them?”

“Payback.” Lacey smirked. “Don’t forget, they stranded us in Cozumel and locked us in the lost and found without so much as a candle.”

“As I recall, we managed to stay warm.”

“Regardless.” She smacked his arm. “They deserve to suffer a little.”

He shivered and snuggled her close. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”

She laid her head on his chest. “Me too.”

Definitely not a dream. More like a dream come true. He rested his cheek against the top of her head. Maybe he shouldn’t push it. But …

“Do you think … we could continue the conversation we were having under the towel … before the spiders invaded?”

“Conversation?” She stayed in his arms but leaned to the right and met his eyes.

“You know.” He tilted his head from side to side.

Lacey squinted at him. “Nope. I’m drawing a blank.”

“Oh.” Jon cleared his throat and looked away.

She reached up and directed his face to hers. “How about you refresh my memory?”

Her fingers traced his jawline as he grinned. “I’d be happy to, ma’am.”