Chapter 15
"This detour brought to you by caffeine withdrawal and a caroling menace." ~ Jeremy
Jeremy
I rub my eyes as the lines of code begin to blur. It’s getting dark outside. How long have I been at this?
It doesn’t matter. I can’t quit now. The investors Eli and I met with in New York City are counting on me finishing the Synq app and getting it to market at the start of the new year. And it’s already December.
Doubt creeps in. Maybe I can’t finish on time. Maybe I’m not a good enough developer to make this app a success.
No. I shake my head. I can’t let doubt creep in. I can do this.
My jaw cracks with a yawn at the same time my stomach rumbles. When was the last time I ate? I pick up my coffee cup but it’s empty, too.
I push to my feet and my knees creak with the motion. My entire body aches from being hunched over my computer all day as I walk to the kitchen. I frown when I notice the empty box of coffee cups.
I need caffeine. There’s no way I’ll be able to keep working without caffeine.
I throw on a sweatshirt, grab my keys, and hurry out the door. Shit. Cold. I forgot shoes. I rush back inside and shove my feet into a pair of sneakers.
I shiver as I walk down the stairs toward the bakery. It’s not the first time I’ve forgotten my shoes but bare feet aren’t usually a problem in California.
I notice the windows of the kitchen are dark. I try the door anyway. Locked up tight.
What now? I scan the main street of Smuggler’s Rest. There. Smuggler’s Cove is a restaurant next door. They must have coffee.
I start toward the restaurant but stop when I hear singing. I search the area and discover a group of carolers standing in the gazebo at the little park off the main street. I notice Parker in front and my feet carry me toward her before my mind can catch up.
They finish the song and move on to Deck the Halls. Wait a minute. This isn’t Deck the Halls.
Deck the hulls with crates of treasure, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-ARRR!
'Tis the season for pirate pleasure, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-ARRR!
Don we now our sea-soaked sweaters,
Sing like drunken privateers,
Sailing home with salted letters, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-CHEERS!
I chuckle. Only on Smuggler’s Hideaway would they alter the lyrics of Deck the Halls to refer to treasure and pirates. Parker notices me and waves.
The song finishes and she steps forward. She begins to sing and I’m mesmerized.
Have yourself a sea-salty little Christmas,
Let your anchor drop…
From now on, our tides will gently rock…
She has the voice of an angel. I move closer until I can see her bright blue eyes are filled with happiness. Her long brown hair is piled onto her head, showcasing her long neck. A neck I want to nibble on until she’s squirming beneath me.
The sweater dress she’s wearing clings to her body and shows off all her curves. Curves I’ve been dreaming about since the first time we met. My cock strains against my zipper in a bid to get closer to her.
It’s time to set my plan in motion to get Parker out of my system by spending a glorious night with her. Maybe two nights. Three nights would be perfectly fine with me as well.
But I don’t do long term. I’ve learned my lesson there. Besides, I’m not in Smuggler’s Hideaway to stay. Parker and I can have a glorious affair only for the season. Sounds perfect.
The music stops and Parker bounds down the stairs of the gazebo toward me.
“It’s alive!”
“Why wouldn’t I be alive?”
She rolls her eyes. “Because you’ve been barricaded in the loft since you returned from New York.”
“I wasn’t barricaded in the loft. But if I was, it’s because I was trying to stay safe from vicious creatures.”
She clutches her chest. “Vicious creatures? Viking is the sweetest of the Smuggler’s Hideaway mascots.”
I snort. “We’re discussing Smuggler’s Hideaway, the other mascots are probably krakens.”
“Don’t be silly. Two krakens can’t live this close together.”
“Pardon me. My knowledge of krakens isn’t what it should be.”
She bounces on her toes. “Good thing I’m here to set you straight.”
“Hold on. You said mascots.”
“Yep. Every town on Smuggler’s Hideaway has a live mascot.”
“You weren’t kidding.”
She frowns. “There is no joking about live mascots.”
“Of course. My mistake. But, out of curiosity, what are the other mascots?”
I’ll never admit it out loud, but I’m fascinated by Smuggler’s Hideaway. Or maybe I am merely fascinated with this woman who lights up whenever she discusses her hometown.
“There’s Rogue, the marshmallow-addicted raccoon. He’s the mascot for Rogue’s Landing. And the mascot for Pirate’s Perch is Plank the dirty-mouthed parrot.”
I snort. “I should have known there’d be a parrot.”
“Plank is a rascal. No one’s managed to steal him in years.”
I must have misheard. “Steal him?”
“Yep. It’s a Smuggler’s Hideaway tradition to steal the mascot from another town during the summer.”
“People try to steal Viking from you?”
She growls. “They can try. I’ll beat them with my rolling pin before giving their body to the kraken.”
She’s adorable when she goes into mother bear mode. I bet she’d make a great mom. She wouldn’t turn on her child. She’d be more likely to attack anyone who threatened her precious baby.
My gaze drops to her stomach. She’d be gorgeous with a pregnant belly. I bet she’d glow while pregnant.
My head rears back. What is wrong with me? Pregnant belly? I don’t do relationships. Why the hell am I fantasizing about Parker being pregnant?
Parker grasps my forearm. “What’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost.” She scans the area. “I hope it wasn’t Margaret Hale. She’s supposed to stick to Smuggler’s Grotto.” She shivers.
“Who is Margaret Hale?”
“She was the daughter of the lighthouse keeper. She was in love with the pirate Black Jack, but when her father discovered their secret affair, he arranged for her to marry someone else. On the night of her wedding, Black Jack kidnapped her, intending to escape the island by boat. But a violent storm rolled in, trapping them inside the grotto. And now Margaret’s ghost wanders the grotto. ”
“What happens if she leaves the grotto?”
“I don’t know. She’s never escaped before.”
“I didn’t see a ghost, so I think we’re safe.”
“Phew. What are you doing outside anyway?”
“Searching for coffee.”
Parker giggles. “I should have known. The workaholic needs his coffee.” She motions toward the bakery. “Come on. I’ll make you a cup.”
We walk a few steps before she screeches to a halt.
“What’s wrong? Did you see a ghost?” Words I never thought I’d ask before.
“No.” She points to the sky. “Look.”
I glance up and something cold and wet hits my eye. “Yuck.”
“Don’t be a fuddy duddy. It’s snow.” She throws out her arms and whirls around in circles. “Don’t you love snow?”
“It’s cold.”
She stops to stare at me. “It’s cold?”
I shiver and stuff my hands in my pockets. “I’m cold.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a California boy.”
I frown. “There’s nothing wrong with a California boy.”
“Unless you don’t enjoy snow.”
“You wouldn’t enjoy snow either if you got stuck in New York City for New Year’s Eve.”
She sighs. “New York City on New Year’s Eve sounds magical.”
“Not when you’re stuck on the jetway at LaGuardia.”
“I get your point. But we are not stuck on a jetway. We’re in Smuggler’s Hideaway and it’s nearly Christmas. Look.” She points to the Christmas decorations. “Don’t they look romantic with flakes of snow on them?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“I will change your mind. Tilt your head back.”
“Why?”
“Why?” She grumbles before elbowing me. “To catch a snowflake on your tongue.”
“It’s cold and wet. Why would I want to catch a snowflake on my tongue?”
“Stop being Mr. Scrooge. I’ll show you.” She tilts her head back and sticks out her tongue. A snowflake falls on it and she jumps for joy. “Now, it’s your turn.”
“Fine,” I mutter before tilting my head back and opening my mouth. A snowflake immediately falls on my tongue. “Cold. Wet.”
“I give up. You are officially Mr. Scrooge.”
“At least I don’t have a crooked nose and wear pince-nez glasses.”
She rakes her gaze over me. “You are one of the better looking Scrooges.”
“You know a lot of Scrooges, do you?”
“Yes, I make a habit of befriending one every Christmas season and working with them until they realize the errors of their ways.”
“In other words, I’m your little project.”
Her nose wrinkles. “I wouldn’t say little.”
I bark out a laugh. The sound surprises me. Less than an hour ago, I was stressed and questioning all of my life’s decisions. Parker has the ability to cheer me up without trying.
Instead of fighting her influence, maybe I should lean into it. After all, I deserve a nice Christmas for a change. And a Christmas season spent with Parker as my lover would be very nice indeed.