Chapter 12
Past Mistakes – Jack
I have successfully avoided Kayla for a few days, but when I run out of her miracle sleeping potion, I know I must find and face her again tonight.
Thankfully, she’s on the main deck, enjoying a glass of red wine. Her hair is down and blowing around wildly.
I walk over and clear my throat to make her aware of my presence.
When she notices me, she stands before me glancing down and tidying her hair and casual clothes, which look more like pajama shorts and a white hoodie. “Mr. Shelley.”
“How are you doing today, Kayla?” From her stained lips and slurred speech, I can tell she’s rather enjoying herself.
She looks around. “Since you started this conversation, I am allowed to talk to you, right?”
Ugh. I frown. I thought I asked Bryant to take care of that.
“I—”
“Everyone says I shouldn’t just talk to you unless you talk to me first,” she shrugs. “Probably has something to do with that Harper girl.”
I blow out a breath, watching as Kayla’s eyes widen and her face reads “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
No, she shouldn’t have. But it’s a fair comment to make.
As we stand there, the night air cooling our skin, Kayla hesitates before asking, “Jack, if you hadn’t gotten that phone call, would you have kissed me?”
Her question makes even more goosebumps spread on my skin. I also know she likely wouldn’t be asking me if her inhibitions weren’t down due to the wine.
“It doesn’t feel like the right time to have that conversation, Kayla,” I reply, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism. But as I look at her, her eyes glistening with vulnerability and playful curiosity, I know that I would have kissed her—if only I hadn’t stopped myself.
She nods, seeming to understand the unspoken implications.
Then, after taking a sharp inhale, I say, “As far as the whole Harper thing goes… curiosity killed the cat.” Again, I can’t blame her for asking about my past.
Saying my exe’s name still gives me the heebie jeebies. But I want to keep things light between Kayla and me.
Though, in her presence, my heart is pounding, and I can feel the magnetic pull between us growing stronger. It’s dangerous and exhilarating, and I don’t know what to do with these feelings.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a cat,” she retorts, laughing and snorting again. She then leans against the railing, her eyes never leaving mine, as if daring me to take a step closer, to cross that line between boss and employee, desire and restraint.
“Indeed,” I murmur, my voice rough with barely contained longing. And for a moment, all I can think about is how much I want to taste her lips, for real this time, to feel her body pressed against mine. But the cold reality of our circumstances keeps me in check, and I know that this—whatever it may be—is nothing more than a beautiful, forbidden dream.
“Kayla,” I say, my voice low and controlled, “is there any way you could make me some more of that sleepy tea or whatever it was?”
I watch as her grin falls. “Oh.” She raises her glass and takes another drink. “That’s all you wanted.”
I can feel the tension in the air between us, a live wire connecting our bodies, and I know I need to put some distance between us before it becomes too much. I exhale loudly through my nose and say, “Yes.”
A flicker of hurt crosses her face, but she quickly smooths it away, her eyes meeting mine with unwavering honesty. “I’m not like Harper, you know,” she whispers quietly. “Not money, not fame, not a promotion, nothing.”
There’s something about the way she says it – the sincerity in her voice, the vulnerability in her gaze – that makes me believe her.
“Then what do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the emotions churning inside me.
She looks out at the ocean for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, before turning back to me. “Well, after that night on the shore, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. But now I understand our predicament. Now, I guess… I thought that you could maybe use a friend.”
I scoff and run a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface at her words about our current situation—and the forbidden nature of any potential relationship—and her insinuation that I need a companion in life. People are always telling me that. “I’m not the type to have friends,” I tell her, bitterness replacing my desperation and seeping into my words.
She sneers before sniffing and rubbing at her nose. “Everyone needs a friend, Jack,” she later insists gently, her eyes never leaving mine.
She has this effect on me that no other woman has. I lean against the railing, feeling the cool metal press into my back as I study her. The moonlight casts a soft glow on her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheekbone and the tender swell of her lips. She’s beautiful, and in this moment, it feels almost like she’s a dream—one that I know will slip through my fingers if I try to hold on too tight.
“Maybe,” I finally concede, my voice barely more than a whisper. “But not tonight. Tonight, I need sleep. So, will you help me?”
She tips her glass once more before discarding it on a nearby table. “Fine. But this time, I’m going to teach you how to make it yourself.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. The kitchen is my happy place.
When I follow her inside, she gets all the ingredients from the cupboards.
“Are you ready? It’s a really complicated process.”
“I think I can handle it.”
She then pours some water into two mugs, sticks them in the microwave, and then steeps tea in them for a few minutes.
“You’re sure? Watch very closely.”
I cross my arms and bend down before I nod.
She collects the Thermos from the dish rack, unscrews the cap, and then pours a little bit of each liquid inside before reclosing it and shaking it all up.
“Okay, now what?”
She laughs. “That’s it.”
“That’s it? I thought you said it was complicated.”
Her head throws back. “I was just kidding.”
I grab a towel and pretend to snap it at her.
We share another sweet moment, just looking at each other. Until I ask, “So, are you dating anyone?”
Her jaw drops. “My, my, Mr. Shelley, that’s rather personal, don’t you think?” she replies, her eyebrows raised in mock indignation before she grins. “I’m just teasing. No, I’m not dating anyone.” With that, she leans against the counter next to me, her body so close that I can feel the heat radiating off her.
Then, after sucking in air through her teeth, she continues, “Since we’re sharing… I once dated this guy named Simon,” she begins, her eyes fixed on something on the other side of the room. “Everyone told me I was out of his league, but he made me feel like I had someone, and I made him feel like he mattered.” I watch as her jaw clenches. “He ended up cheating on me with one of my closest friends. I haven’t been able to look at another man since.”
“Kayla, I’m so sorry,” I say sincerely, feeling a pang of sympathy for her. If anyone knows what being cheated on feels like, it’s me. I’m also grateful for the wine in her system for making her so open and vulnerable to me.
She shakes her head, managing a small smile. “It’s okay, Jack. I’m over it now. Lessons learned, right?”
“Right,” I agree, my mind drifting back to Harper and the way she’d shattered my trust. I find myself wanting to share more with Kayla, something I never do. And I’m completely sober.
“Harper wanted me to give her my mother’s engagement ring. But I couldn’t.” Like in my recurring nightmares, she had insinuated that she wanted it on multiple occasions. The memories still feel so raw that I can taste them. “But my mom is gone, and that ring was supposed to be for someone special. I guess Harper got scared it would never happen, so she took her first chance to jump into another’s bed.”
“Jack…” Kayla murmurs, her eyes filled with understanding and empathy. The connection between us intensifies, and I can see she genuinely cares about what I’ve just shared.
We stand there in silence for a few moments, two people with broken pasts, finding solace in each other’s company. The temptation to reach for her is almost unbearable, but I know it’s wrong. She works for me, and the power dynamics make things complicated.
A sudden snort from Kayla breaks the silence, and I can’t help but raise an eyebrow in question. “What’s so amusing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asks, a teasing glint in her eyes after she wipes them from tears. “We’re so similar, Jack. Both of us lost our mothers and had exes who thought it appropriate and just to cheat on us. No wonder we’ve got issues. Yet somehow, we managed to find our way to each other.” One more errant ball of moisture runs down her cheek, and I rub it off with my thumb. I didn’t realize she also lost her mom.
“Yeah, we’re something else, aren’t we?” I say after wiping her natural moisture on my pants.
“Definitely,” she murmurs, her gaze locked onto mine.
My heart races as I take a step closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I know it’s wrong, but the pull between us is too strong to resist. My hand moves to her chin, gently lifting it toward me. Her breath hitches, and I can see the anticipation in her eyes.
She’s as intoxicating to me as the red wine she drank is to her.
“Kayla…” I whisper, leaning down to capture her lips. The moment our mouths meet, a surge of electricity courses through me, sending shivers down my spine. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before—passionate, intense, and utterly consuming. It feels like a wild, irresistible storm I never want to escape from, but our moment of passion is cut short.
“Kayla!” a voice suddenly calls out. The sound of her voice startles us, and we break apart, our eyes wide with shock and embarrassment.
When I look over, I see that the source of the interruption was Callie, another steward.
“I’m so sorry,” Callie stammers, a blush creeping across her fair cheeks as she takes in the scene before her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say as calmly as I can, trying to regain composure. “Kayla was just leaving.” I turn to her, seeking confirmation.
She nods, biting her lip as she glances between me and Callie. “Yeah, I should probably get to bed.” Her eyes are filled with a mixture of longing and regret, and it tears at my heart.
“Goodnight,” she whispers, her voice barely audible above the sound of the waves crashing against the yacht.
“Goodnight,” I reply, my voice rough with emotion.
As Kayla retreats into the shadows, disappearing from my sight, I pick up the Thermos. The warmth of the liquid inside reminds me of the heat of her lips, and the fire that danced between us as we kissed.
But along with the desire, there’s a sinking feeling in my chest—a heavy realization that I’ve walked down this path before.
I know all too well the consequences of mixing business and pleasure, of allowing my heart to rule over my head. It’s a dangerous game, and one that I’ve sworn not to play again. And yet, here I am, making the same mistakes, and folding to my almost irresistible desire for Kayla.
None of this is worth it. I think while shaking my head and raking my fingers through my short hair. “Is it?” I ask aloud to nobody but myself, with my hands now scratching down each side of my face.