Chapter Ten Hunter
Chapter Ten
Hunter
After I’d changed into the black pants and button-down shirts called, appropriately enough, “blacks,” Thomas sent me to the upper deck to find Lucky and help her. He hadn’t had to tell me twice.
The interior crew had on pink dresses for Mrs. Carmine’s birthday, and I did my best not to objectify Lucky, who looked incredibly sexy. The dress fit her perfectly, outlining every long line and curve, her long black hair up in a ponytail that swayed back and forth as she moved.
It had become apparent to me that she had no idea how hot she was, and I found that personally offensive.
“Thomas said I should come help you,” I said, realizing that standing there and watching her was not exactly the behavior of a friend.
She thrust a package of pink balloons at me. “Here. Blow these up.”
I took one out. “Do balloons ever strike you as strange? ‘Happy birthday, here’s a rubber sack filled with my breath.’”
Her smile made my chest feel too tight. “Don’t make jokes. This needs to be perfect. Her entire group has been so lovely and patient. You have no idea how rare that is.”
I should have blown up the balloon but instead I watched her as she climbed onto the table to attach some pink and gold streamers to the top of a pole. I told myself that I shouldn’t be looking at her butt.
My staring turned out to be a good thing because the boat rocked sideways and she lost her balance. Because she had all my attention, I was there to catch her before she fell. Her back was against my chest and all my blood rushed south. She was so soft. She fit perfectly in my arms and smelled amazing. I wanted to bury my face in her hair.
“Are you good?” I asked, and I didn’t know if the question was for me or her.
She trembled slightly and I could hear how quickly she was breathing. From the almost fall or because I was holding her?
My heart thudded low and hard. What would she do if I turned her around and kissed her senseless?
“I’m good,” she said in a low, breathy voice that made my brain shut off entirely. She didn’t help things by turning slowly around.
I wanted her.
And I couldn’t have her.
She swayed toward me and I wondered if she even realized it. Her dark eyes met mine, and then lowered down to my mouth.
I wasn’t alone in this. She felt it, too.
Lucky is off-limits, I reminded my body.
My hands were still on her waist and I reluctantly pulled them away. I had balloons to blow up. Although it seemed like a poor substitute for what my lips wanted to be doing.
After a moment she went back to decorating but something had shifted between us. The air was charged and there was a heated heaviness there that pressed into me, urging me to stop being a coward and kiss her.
When she finished she asked me, “Do you think they’ll like it?”
I had been busy imagining the kinds of sounds she’d make when I sucked on the pulse point I’d seen rapidly beating at the base of her neck, so I didn’t respond the way I should have. “It’s very pink.”
Then I saw my screwup. She looked disappointed. She had wanted me to tell her she’d done a good job.
Before I could correct my mistake, she ran her hands over her thighs to smooth her skirt, making me wish I were the one doing it. “It’s what Mrs. Carmine asked for. Which is why I’m wearing something you’d drink when you’re nauseous.”
“I think you look ...” I racked my brain for a word that wouldn’t scare her. Sexy. Delectable. Good enough to eat. I settled on, “Cute.”
She looked so offended that I almost laughed. “You should be glad that we didn’t have to put you in a Speedo to serve the guests.”
“You’ve done that?” I would not imagine her in a bikini.
“I haven’t. Have the men in the crew? Absolutely.” Her eyes lingered on my chest when she said that. I got the sense that she would have liked to see me in a Speedo. She hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off me earlier, when I’d been shirtless. It had made her flush a soft pink. And it had made me wonder what I could do to keep her skin that color.
And how far her blush went.
One of the stews came in with silverware and handed everything to Lucky. I understood that she was doing her job but I was annoyed by the interruption.
She all but batted her eyelashes at me and said flirtatiously, “Hi, Hunter.”
What was her name? I took a shot. “Hi, Emma.”
Her face fell. “It’s Emilie.”
I felt bad. “I’m sorry. I meant Emilie.”
But my poor memory came in handy as it caused her to leave, clearly pissed.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “I think I screwed up.”
“She’ll be okay,” Lucky said as she started placing silverware. “Emilie we can afford to make angry. It’s the guests we have to worry about.”
“Yes, we wouldn’t want to aggravate the Carbombs.”
Her lips twitched like she wanted to laugh. She held up a butter knife and thrust it toward me and I imagined her as a sexy pirate, threatening me with her cutlass. I would easily walk the plank for her.
“You really don’t want to do anything to annoy any elderly people,” she said, pulling me out of my fantasy. “The older they get, the less a life sentence in prison is a deterrent. So you better behave and use the right name, especially since our tip could be on the line.”
I laughed and pointed at the knife. “Lucky, are you threatening me with a deadly weapon?”
“Do you know how hard it would be to kill you with a dessert knife?” she said as she set it down.
“You seem the persistent type. I think you could do it.”
“Probably true, and then I’d have the room to myself, with no one to comment on whether or not I was a slob.”
“You are a slob,” I said. And then betraying where my mind had gone, I added, “But if I wasn’t there, who would fight off the peg-legged and eye-patched pirates when they storm the ship?”
I was grateful that she didn’t ask why I was suddenly talking about pirates. There wouldn’t have been a way to explain.
She said, “I don’t think we’ll be visited by Blackbeard anytime soon.”
Lucky focused on putting out the knives and forks and I wanted her attention back on me so I reverted to the thing I knew would work. A joke. She couldn’t resist them, no matter what she said. “Do you know the way to make a pirate angry?”
“Steal his doubloons?”
“No, take away the P .”
I saw the moment when she realized that I meant the letter P , turning pirate into irate . And she grinned at me and made me feel like I could defeat an entire boatload of pirates by myself. “I like making you smile.”
It wasn’t something I’d wanted to admit to, but it was true. I wondered if she would confess that she liked me making her smile, but she stayed silent and finished setting the table.
Feeling a little like I’d been dismissed, I asked, “What else do you need me to do?”
“You could go down and wash dishes,” she said. “The dishes are never-ending, just like the laundry.”
Wasn’t there someone on board for that? “Don’t we have a dishwasher?”
She looked at me like I’d just spouted nonsense. “Yes. You.”
I was a dishwashing virgin and had no idea how to do it. “I’ve never washed dishes before.”
“I can show you,” she offered. “I’m really good at it.”
Which led me to wonder what she would say if I offered to show her the things that I was really good at.
Another stew called over the radio, “Lucky, Lucky. The guests are ready to come up.”
She glanced around and said, “Copy. Send them up.”
The Carbombs and their guests came upstairs, and Mrs. Carbomb seemed thrilled by her birthday decorations and kept thanking Lucky. “Everything looks so wonderful.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Lucky said and I was happy that she looked so happy.
The French guy had set up an audio system and started playing songs from the 1950s and 1960s and two of the couples started to dance. I knew I should go but I liked watching Lucky getting her accolades.
Mrs. Carbomb came over and patted me on the arm. “Why don’t you dance with Lucky?”
I saw the twinkle in the older woman’s eye. She had done this deliberately. I wanted to kiss her on the mouth. Throw her a ticker-tape parade. Thank her profusely.
Lucky looked like she was about to refuse so I hurried over to her and held out my hand. “We have to do what the guests want, right?”
“You’re right. We can’t disappoint Mrs. Carmine. Especially since you’ve already promised to save her in case of an emergency,” she said, giving me her hand.
I whirled her once and she laughed in surprise before I pulled her close. She wrapped her hands around my neck and I settled my hands at her waist again and was surprised at the relief I felt. Like this was what I was supposed to be doing—touching her.
But I didn’t bring her in as close as I wanted to, thinking a bit of distance might keep me from doing something entirely inappropriate in front of the guests. We swayed together and I saw the way she kept swallowing, felt her fingers fidgeting against my neck, how she wouldn’t meet my gaze.
Then I did something stupid. I leaned in to whisper, “What are you thinking about?”
She tilted her head and shivered against the sensation of my breath on her ear. I shouldn’t have asked her but I wanted to know if she was thinking the same things as me. Had to know if I was the reason for the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
“Nothing,” she said.
“I don’t believe you,” I murmured.
Lucky cleared her throat and then said, “I was thinking about how much work I still have to do.”
“That’s not true, either. I think you’re thinking about me.” I finally provoked the reaction I wanted, her dark eyes indignantly meeting mine, that pulse point in her neck that was already a fan of fluttering.
“I am not thinking about you.” She tried hard, but there wasn’t any conviction in her words.
I knew I should give her an out. “You are. You’re thinking about how much you’re dying for me to make another boat pun.”
One of her gorgeous smiles lit up her face before it disappeared. “I’m not interested in your puns. I’m afraid that ship has sailed.”
“Lucky!” I said, delighted. “I am impressed. And you can protest all you want but I know you love my ex-port-ise of nautical humor.”
She laughed. We fell quiet after that, listening to the music and continuing to sway together to the slow beat. It wasn’t an awkward silence. I was soaking in what it was like to be close to her in a way that the captain couldn’t find fault with. A heady warmth flooded my body and I had to fight off the urge to move closer. My limbs felt too heavy. Like I needed to lie down.
Preferably with Lucky.
I said her name.
“Yes?” she answered.
This might have been a bad idea, but I did it anyway. “You’re the one I’d save from the sinking ship first.”
She didn’t seem to know how to take my declaration. “Mrs. Carmine is going to be so disappointed.”
I wanted to be able to tell her what I really thought. How much I liked her. How beautiful I thought she was. Now I was the one swallowing hard, my breathing unsteady, my fingers digging slightly into her back.
We came to a stop, no longer moving. I forgot about the party, about the music, about the guests.
Everything except her.
This couldn’t happen.
“I should go wash the dishes,” I said. Could she hear how shaky my voice was?
“You should,” she agreed. But she didn’t move away from me. She didn’t let go.
Neither did I.
I had to force my feet to move, my hands to drop. She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression disappointed.
There wasn’t a choice here. I had to go. I turned on my heel and left. I let out a deep breath.
She was going to get me fired.
Or, more accurately, I was going to get myself fired.