20. Summer
Chapter 20
Summer
T he stateroom I’m in is another example as to why I shouldn’t be here. It’s a world of pure luxury I haven’t seen in a long time.
A king-size bed, draped in nautical blue linens, sits positioned in the center of the room while panoramic windows curve around the space, offering water views, and I can make out the tiny speck that is the marina in the distance.
This yacht is definitely not a boat. A frisson of fear rings the tiny bell in the echoes of my mind—I didn’t realize a restaurant owner was this … well, to put it bluntly, rich.
While his brownstone in Beacon Hill is absolutely beautiful and something I could never afford on my teacher’s salary, it’s still common with the wealthy. This yacht—a whole other level. I’d know. I know this kind of money.
I shake my head and comb my freshly washed hair, setting my brush on the marble bathroom counter. Right now, whether or not I want to admit it, this is the best place I can be. In the middle of the water, with only a handful of people.
Kieran was right. I’m able to take a minute, gather myself.
I pad over the teakwood flooring which carries from the multiple decks throughout the yacht, and out of the ensuite into the bedroom. Dropping my towel, I pull on the fresh pair of black leggings and oversized sweater kept in my bag. The other outfit I have is definitely more suited for summer, so I’m pleased I packed clothes for both seasons.
Deuce meows as he wraps around my legs in a figure eight. The crew were nice enough to bring me a pan with some newspapers and sand for him to use as a litter box while on board, and I’m already praying he doesn’t ruin any of the high-priced items in this room. The gold lamps on either side of the bed have to be thousands alone.
With most of my items put away in my backpack, I open what looks to be a closet door and find a walk-in where I can shove the bag.
Shutting the door, I back up, heels hitting the foot of the bed before I sink down into the most comfortable comforter I’ve ever sat on. A zip tingles up my spine and I shudder. Then, I release a breath. It feels like I’ve been holding it since yesterday at the bakery—and only now can I finally let it go.
My thoughts drift to Kieran and Aoife. About how convenient it was that they were there at the harbor around the exact time I was panicking over my passport and extra cash. Or that Kieran’s hand, placed gently on the dip of my back while boarding the yacht, was more reassuring in that moment than anything else. It took everything in me not to lean into his touch.
“Let me help ye .”
Those were the last words out of his mouth, and I’d be lying if I didn’t want to snatch them out of the air and put them in my pocket. But I could never do that. Involve someone else in my problems, expect someone to come save me. Not this time.
Not with Aoife.
There will never be a time I willingly bring her into something like this.
I’ll take Kieran up on his offer to lie low for a night and then continue on with the plan tomorrow.
But …
But what if he could offer me protection? There’s something that makes me trust Kieran, and it’s deeper than feeling comfortable enough to crash on his boat for the night.
He’s older than me, sure, but there’s a tenderness in his eyes, a connection, and I’m held frozen by the possibility he might feel it, too.
I fall back against the soft bed.
He looked good.
Wearing dark washed jeans and a green Henley that heightened his intense stare with scruff trimmed tight to his sharp jawline. In my attempt to avoid looking at him with tears in my eyes, I caught sight of his sand-colored boat shoes he probably only wore because of the warmer than average weather.
Aoife was cute, as always, in her jeans and Keds, wrapped in her pink windbreaker. Her sunny disposition is hard to resist. Kieran’s a lucky man.
Trips in my family were always too few and far between. My father was too busy. If it wasn’t work related, we didn’t travel. When I first met Kieran, I practically accused him of the same. I know he works a lot, but he’s nothing like my father. I let my own experiences shade my opinion of him, and for that, I’m sorry.
Kieran taking her out on the water with him warms my heart. Not sure where this Finn fits into everything, but Aoife seems comfortable.
I relax deeper in the bed, the smell of clean linens wafting around where I’ve snow-angeled myself onto the bed. I’m pulled further and further into the cloud bed until?—
Two muscular arms wrap around my waist as the ocean mist sprays my face, and my toes curl against the thick wooden decking as his mouth comes to my ear. The sun sparkles off the resting water, and there’s not another vessel in sight.
“How do ye like me boat?” His voice is lyrical and rhythmic, lulling me.
I sigh, letting my head drift back onto his meaty shoulder. Light nips to my neck draw a moan from my lips.
“Ye can be as loud as ye want out here. No one will hear ya.” His mouth moves down over my shoulder, and I gasp, drawing in a mouthful of salted air.
“Kieran …”
A giggle sounds in my ear, and my eyelids fly open. I wipe at the wet drool gravitating down my chin and onto my neck before turning to see Aoife propped up on the bed next to me.
“Hi!” she says.
I blink at her, then turn my attention to re-familiarizing myself with where I am. I’m still sprawled out on my stateroom bed, and I internally groan—I must’ve dozed off.
“Aoife, hey,” I say, pushing up on my elbows.
“You were sleeping.”
I nod.
“Were you dreaming about my daddy?”
I freeze and offer her a nervous smile. “I, uh, jeez. No.”
That’s not the truth at all, but how do I tell one of my preschool students I was dreaming of her father?
You don’t.
“Well, it’s time for dinner.” Aoife hops off the bed to move toward the door. “Coming?”
I scrape a hand through my now almost dry hair and shake myself out of this flustered mind-warp my brain has thrust on me. I wasn’t asleep long enough to be invested, right? Jeez. Why do I want to know how this dream ends?
Aoife stares at me, grinning as I wrestle with myself. Obviously, she doesn’t know this, but it’s still rattling all the same.
“I, uh, yeah. One sec.” I stumble out of the bed, moving to the bathroom. In the mirror, I fluff my hair and slap my cheeks to give them some not-so-dead color. Then, double-checking all the drool is gone from my mouth, I dab on some Chapstick I found shoved in my bag. “Ready,” I say when I come back out.
Aoife grabs my hand and leads me out my stateroom door. We go left down a short hallway before returning to the steps I was led down earlier. They must serve dinner on one of the upper decks.
Honestly, I could follow the smell because the whole boat smells divine.
We pass a crew member in uniform who holds his fist out to Aoife as she passes, and I offer him a light smile as he gestures to the front of the main level.
“Daddy loves to eat in the front. Best place to see the sun go to sleep.”
I pull my lips together. “He likes the sunset?”
“Uh-huh.” Aoife skips toward the front of the boat where several crew members are placing the final silverware on the table.
A beautiful wood table is set with wicker-like folding chairs pushed into the sides. I don’t think the table stays there, which means Kieran had this brought out for tonight. Special.
I swallow.
Fresh blue flowers placed in clear glass votives sit in the center and three taupe place settings fill the table. A cream napkin folded tall in a wave shape sits on top of the salad plate.
I shiver, grateful for the multiple heaters scattered around the deck. No matter where you stand, you’re enveloped with a delicious heat that licks away the chill in the air.
Kieran has changed his top to a wool pullover sweater with three wooden buttons that scream cabin in the woods, not a yacht on the ocean. But when he smiles at Aoife, I decide that’s my favorite accessory on him.
“I know it’s chilly,” he says as I rub my arms over my chunky sweater. “But I couldn’t resist eatin’ up here while the sun sets.” He moves out a chair for Aoife, and she jumps in. “Did ye get settled in yer room okay?”
I bite my lip. “I—yeah. Probably too settled,” I mumble.
Kieran presses his lips together while pulling out another chair. Then he gestures to it, waiting for me to sit.
Aoife doesn’t miss my words though, and she blurts, “Miss Summer was sleeping.”
Kieran’s forehead shoots up while I slide into my chair. “Really?”
“Uh-huh! She was talking to you.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks, and I debate whether I should run for the side of the boat and jump—take my chances in the ocean.
A few seconds of silence pass with nothing but the sloshing of waves to emphasize the words Aoife just uttered. I peek open an eyelid to see Kieran staring at me, holding a glass of whiskey-colored liquid.
He swirls it around. “Funny. Didn’t realize we were havin’ a conversation, Miss Smith.”
My cheeks grow hotter, and my body is burning on the inside. No need for the heaters now.
“Just a slight nightmare,” I say, pinching my lips together to keep from wincing. He doesn’t know it was that kind of dream.
“Oh, yeah? What did I do to ya?” He smirks with the lighthearted teasing tone and tilts his head to the side with a certain gleam in his eye.
I huff and fidget in my seat. “Actually”—I tuck my arms together across my chest—“I dreamed you left me alone on this boat. Had to captain the thing by myself.” It’s a randomized fib, but I hold his stare trying to muster as much confidence in mine as possible.
“Huh.” Kieran swirls his glass. “Maybe that’s yer subconscious telling ye I’m irreplaceable.”
He’s joking. It’s written all over his sexy face, and it exudes from his shoulders that shake in a barely audible chuckle. His words sucker punch me. I’m not sure there is another man like Kieran O’Donnell, rendering what he says true. He’s irreplaceable.
I look toward Aoife, whose eyes dart back and forth between Kieran and me. A throat clears behind me, and I turn to see two crew members with the appetizers for the night.
“Sir,” the tall lanky male says. “Chef has prepared seared scallops with a citrus Beurre Blanc, served on a bed of microgreens and garnished with herbs and lemon zest. Enjoy.” He sets a modest plate of scallops between Kieran and me.
“And for Miss O’Donnell, we have the fried mac and cheese balls.” Aoife giggles when a young woman sets the plate of two deep fried spheres in front of her.
I eyeball Aoife’s mac and cheese gooiness as she bites into one, and I’m slightly jealous. Don’t get me wrong, I love seafood, and I haven’t had good scallops in years. But the dish in front of her looks promising.
“Help yerself,” Kieran says as he takes a few scallops soaked in butter sauce and drops them onto his plate.
I smile, grateful he’s not making this awkward by serving me. “I haven’t had scallops in so long,” I admit.
He nods. “I don’t eat much seafood. Allie is allergic to shellfish, so we rarely risk much seafood in the house. But here on the yacht with me crew—it seems fittin’ to have a meal or two. Aoife on the other hand can’t stand it.”
Aoife smiles, taking another hurried bite of her own appetizer. She stays quiet as her head continues to ping-pong between us.
“Does the crew stay here full time?” I ask, taking a tentative bite of my scallop. I groan at the buttery decadence.
Kieran squirms, restless, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Uh, aye. Me crew is full time. This is me second yacht. The first was tinier than this beauty here, and I traded up about four years ago, around the time Aoife was born. Cormac calls it me mid-life crisis ship.”
“How so?” I don’t mean to be offensive, but Kieran licks his lips, shoulders slumping inward before letting out a sigh. Should I not have asked that?
“It was an impulsive purchase around the last month of pregnancy for Aoife’s mom. Thought maybe it would make a difference.”
He doesn’t expound, but his eyes flit to Aoife whose legs are bouncing in beat with her chewing. I doubt he wants to, or should, go into more detail with her here. Though, I can’t help but wonder … was he trying to save his relationship with Aoife’s mom? Did he want forever with her?
“I don’t have a mom,” Aoife states plainly. She says it as if she’s telling us she doesn’t have a toothbrush or an easy-bake oven.
“Aoife …” Kieran’s voice trails off. The tips of his ears darken to an unbearable shade of red while the chair beneath him crunches as he shifts.
The teacher in me pipes in. “But you have a dad who loves you so much. It’s better to have one parent who loves you, then two parents who don’t. Don’t you think?” I’d know.
She nods. “It’s okay. I have you and Nanny Allie!”
I smile, glancing at Kieran. His gaze pierces me, but it’s also dulled—almost gloomy. I don’t miss how his facial features take a downward turn. Then, quickly, he knocks back the rest of his liquor.
The second course of lobster bisque comes just in time, and another ten minutes after that the main course arrives—herb-crusted rack of lamb and chicken tenders for Aoife.
Aoife does most of the chatting after the epic failure I had, asking about Kieran’s new boat. She talks about the cookies she and Allie made the other day with M&M’s, and she asks Kieran when Lizzy can come over for another game of Uno. She even invites me.
As I sit here, listening to them, my heart aches. Leaving Boston. My job. My students. It’s not something I want to do, and having to get up in the morning and make my way somewhere else is eating at me. By the time dessert comes, I’m too sick to my stomach to take a bite, and I never say no to dessert.
“All right, Aoife. It’s time to get ready for bed,” Kieran says. He places his crumpled cloth napkin, no longer a towering wave, onto his finished chocolate mousse plate and stands.
Aoife, who’s practically falling asleep with the rise and dip of each wave, nods subtly and pushes back from her chair. She moves around the table where I’m sitting across from her and dives into my arms for a hug.
I’ve hugged each of my students before, if they’re okay with it, but this hug with Aoife is consuming me. Her hands are warm against my back as she holds me tight, almost as if she knows I need this. And jeez, do I need this.
“Come on, little love. Let’s head to bed.” Kieran beckons her from my arms.
“Good night, Miss Summer,” Aoife whispers.
“Good night, sweet girl.”
She runs to her father, and he takes her hand guiding her back through the main floor to the stairs that descend.
Angry hot tears well in my eyes, and I bite back the old habit to curse. After seven years, I’m still letting these people control me. I want to scream. To find the person who spotted me here, who knows who I am, and shove them off the back of this boat.
I huff, standing, ready to sulk back to my room, but I’m caught by just how breathtaking the sunset over the ocean is. Bright oranges, fiery reds, and baby pinks blend over the horizon, and I walk to the tip of the bow, sucked in by the watercolor shimmering over the gentle waves. Who cares that it’s early spring and still brisk.
The salty breeze is refreshing, and I inhale the deepest breath I can, feeling it all the way in my gut. We aren’t the only boat in sight, there are a handful of others on the water, but I swear with the calm lapping waves against the hull and the epic painting in the sky, all the other sounds, people, and boats fade away. I wrap my arms around myself and breathe.
Unfortunately, several clinks and clanks interrupt my darn near euphoric experience, and I turn to see a few crew members clearing away the table. One young woman glances up at me, and I walk back toward her, hoping to at least help.
“What can I do?”
“Ye can put this on.” Kieran’s voice comes from behind a tall crew member, and I poke my head to the side to see him walking toward me with a fluffy blanket. He marches up to me, holding it out.
His whiskey-scented breath mixes with the invigorating crispness of the wind stirring in the evening air, causing me to shiver.
“Here,” he says, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders.
I reach up to pull both edges together, further wrapping myself. “Thanks. Did Aoife get to sleep okay?”
“Aye. She loves to sleep on the water.”
Kieran doesn’t move from in front of me. In fact, his stare glides back and forth over my face to the point I have to reach up with my blanket to scratch at it.
“Are ye leavin’, Summer?”
“I-I—” Yes. Maybe. What am I doing?
“Cause it sure as hell sounds like ye’re leaving.” The tone of his voice deepens, and the muscle in Kieran’s neck seems to pulse. The sky darkens too quickly, and the brilliant golden light turns into a deep purplish-black to match the simmer in his expression.
“I can’t stay.” It’s a whisper. An admission. I hate that a sob seems to writhe beneath my skin, wanting out. I grip the sides of the blanket I have held to my chest.
The seething in Kieran’s voice chokes into a strangled sound as he says, “What can I do? What can I do to help ye stay?”
The yacht dips over another forceful swell, and my already wobbly legs seem to buckle under the gentle toss. I fall into him. Immediately, his hands steady me, grasping my shoulders. My hands fumble to keep hold of the blanket that falls away from me.
With my legs securely underneath me again, I assume he’s going to step away. He doesn’t.
Is he closer?
I can’t seem to catch my breath as he continues to hold my shoulders, and I imagine the rough pads of his fingertips savoring my skin, despite the barrier of my sweater.
When my eyes finally meet his, they’re so close. The forest green hue is hypnotic—crippling even. Flecks of gold and brown are scattered within his irises that strike a match low in my belly. But as he peers at me, something swirls akin to agony.
I bite my lip, and that draws his attention to my mouth.
“Summer …” he whispers, pulling a hand up between us to move the piece of hair covering my shoulder.
His touch lingers, a single finger sketching featherlight lines where my neck meets my shoulder, and goose bumps follow in his wake. My mouth parts, and a light gasp leaves my lips as I marvel at how his minor touch ignites my body.
I lean forward, succumbing to the craving to be closer to him. He’s warm, and as he caresses my skin, I shudder. I want to kiss him. For him to kiss me.
The memory of my “nightmare” screams to the forefront of my mind, and just as I’m about to close the distance, lips tentatively brush against mine. It’s so light, and not enough.
Just when I think he might press further, a ding startles me, and I jump back.
I’m breathless, the only air coming in dispersed chunks, which I heave in greedily. While Kieran pulls back, he stares wide-eyed as he reaches into his pocket to yank out his phone. He briefly scans the message and then looks at me, jaw tightening. “Who broke into yer apartment?”