Chapter 17 #2
He didn’t dislike storms. Quite the opposite, actually.
Rainy days made for the best reading weather, but that was when he was safe at home in his condo far, far from the ocean.
Storms in the tropics were a different story, of the nausea-inducing sort, and he didn’t relish the idea of experiencing one in person.
No offense to Nate’s lovely yacht, but he especially didn’t want the experience to occur while in open water, even on a boat of this size.
Nate waved away his concern. “I checked the radar, and it looks like we’re in for some wind and fireworks, but we should be back before it gets too bad.”
“How far out is it?” Evan squinted in the direction Nate had been looking. “We had a good view from the hill, and the sky was pretty blue.”
“Far enough, but moving quick. If we’re lucky, we’ll have time to get everything unloaded and be enjoying a cocktail behind the safety of four stone walls.”
And if they weren’t lucky, they’d still be on the boat and tossed to the four winds. That was the worry Heath read between the lines of Nate’s furrowed brow.
“Right. So, hustle.”
Evan waded into the water, dunking and surfacing with slicked-back hair, his clothes clinging as he hauled himself onto the boat and worked with Nate to store their belongings and secure loose items on the deck.
Heath collected his own things in between admiring the efficiency with which they moved. Evan looked gravely serious, and Heath wondered just how checkered his boating past was. Would he be okay?
Isabella’s impish grin and fluttering eyelashes waylaid him. “Snuck away for a little alone time?”
“Nothing sordid, you nosy biddy. We were just talking.”
“Mm-hmm.” Her smile was wicked, and he laughed despite himself.
“You are incorrigible, woman.”
Nate took the helm, steering them out of the narrow cove and back into the open ocean, where the horizon had darkened to a worrisome shade of deep grey. They were only about an hour from the main island, but fifteen minutes in, the atmosphere shifted and the wind grew feisty.
The temperature dropped, and a misty rain kicked up, adding to the damp and chill of the waves sloshing over the rail. Nate pulled the brim of his cap low as the spray covered him from head to foot, and he yelled for everyone to get below.
Isabella and Olivia wasted no time following the order, but Heath hedged. Evan stood with Nate at the mast, swapping to the heavier storm sails, his skin pale beneath the flush of effort.
Heath fought his way through the now-blinding rain to reach them. His sandals were grossly ill-equipped for how slick the deck had become, and he slipped more than once as the boat rocked and lunged over the growing waves.
Grabbing onto one of the taut ropes, he pressed a hand to Evan’s arm to get his attention. “You coming?”
The skin beneath Evan’s soaked shirt was freezing, and his biceps trembled with such ferocity Heath knew it was more than the strain of the work he was doing. He was terrified.
“No. Four hands are better than two.”
“You want two more?”
Evan looked at him with glassy eyes, as though he’d spoken in some alien language. Myriad emotions flashed across his achingly handsome face with such speed Heath couldn’t keep up.
“Have you ever sailed in bad weather?”
“This is my first time sailing, period.”
“Then get below so I don’t have to worry about you.”
“What if I’m worried about you?”
The muscles beneath his palm flexed as Evan leaned closer. “It’ll be okay. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
He said the last so quietly Heath questioned whether it was a trick of the wind.
Nate’s bellow carried through the chaos. “Evan, I need you on the wheel. You two can make out later.”
The boat sliced into a massive wave, bow rising upward at a steep angle that pulled Heath’s feet out from under him.
He scrabbled for purchase, catching the rail with his fingers as they crashed down with such force, it felt like he’d compacted the bones in his legs.
He’d be very sore later, and also cross if Evan was now taller than him.
A vicelike grip wrapped around his forearm, pulling him back from the edge and toward the hatch. The warm scent of Evan’s skin wrapped around him as he shoved him through the door to the galley.
“Hold on, kids. Gonna be a wild ride,” Evan joked, masking the concern in his eyes.
“No!” Heath whirled around, blocking the door before it closed. He caught Evan’s hand.
“What are you—?”
Empty of thought and acting purely on adrenaline, Heath snaked his hand around the back of Evan’s neck and dragged him downward. If they were going to die, by God he was going to know what Evan tasted like before it happened.
He’d expected surprise. Possibly resistance. Maybe even a fist to the face. What he hadn’t counted on was Evan kissing him right back, and sweet Jesus, could the man ever kiss.
Why did that surprise him? Evan carried himself with unwavering confidence. Of course he’d know exactly what to do with that goddamn luscious mouth.
Heath squeaked with surprise when Evan pressed the advantage, then moaned like a wanton harlot at the first sweep of his tongue against his lips. He opened to him, clinging to Evan’s sopping wet shirt when fingers dug into his wet hair and the kiss deepened.
Evan tasted like the ocean and battering rain, with a sprinkling of mango and fermented grapes.
The growl rumbling low in his throat rivaled that of the thunder and sent Heath into a spiral.
No, they were not going to die, because kissing him only once wasn’t enough. He needed to do this again. And again.
He pulled back before he lost the ability to stop himself and looked Evan in the eyes.
“Don’t you dare die.”
The answering smile was roguish and entirely enchanting. “Not a chance, pookie.”
A wave crashed across the deck, flooding the stairwell, and Evan shoved him backward, slamming the door before more water could rush into the galley.
Heath stood there, breathless and speechless, staring at the trickle of water seeping beneath the windowless wooden barrier.
What had he just done? What had they just done?
A double clearing of throats from behind him stiffened his spine, and he performed a slow pirouette to face the grinning women lounging on the L-shaped sofas framing either side of the cabin.
“Well, that certainly guarantees our luck.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Neither Isabella nor Olivia looked half as relaxed as they were trying to appear, but the shit in their grins was entirely authentic.
He righted himself and made careful way to the couch Isabella was on. “How worried should I be?”
Olivia gave him a tight smile. “I think we’re cutting it closer than Nate says, but we should be fine. Though I wish I hadn’t had that last glass of wine. My stomach and rough seas don’t get along.”
Neither did Heath’s, as it turned out. It rolled and roiled along with everything else as the storm overtook them moments later.
Through the slender windows on either side of the cabin, they watched the clouds grow heavy as waves and rain lashed against the glass. It was midnight beyond the skylights. A blackened sky streaked through with crackling brilliance between furious roars.
Olivia turned green and excused herself, dashing for the master cabin and leaving Heath and Isabella staring at one another from their respective brace points. He tried for a smile, but it was more about gritting his teeth against the nausea. “This is more excitement than I signed up for.”
Isabella had the nerve to look radiant, even though there was a trace of worry on her face. “Think of the story this will make when you get home.”
“So long as I’m the one telling it and it’s not being reported in the local paper.” He waved his hand over his face. “Beloved teacher lost at sea. Men everywhere mourn.”
Isabella’s laugh faded as Nate shouted and Evan responded. The words got lost in the wind and pounding water, but it sounded serious. Heath itched to check on them, even knowing it was a terrible idea.
“He said we’re in for a wild ride,” Isabella echoed, scooting closer to the grab bars on the end of the sofa.
Another dip sent his head between his knees. Oh, dear God, what was he doing? He’d kissed the man. He’d kissed Evan!
Red flags went flying. He’d made two promises before leaving on this trip, and he’d broken both of them before the first week was even over. Disappointment washed over him. No fun, and no feelings for unattainable men. Dammit!
Isabella moved to his side, rubbing his back while he took deep breaths. “You’re okay.”
No, he wasn’t, but she didn’t know that, and it wasn’t like he could explain.
Yes, so, about that gorgeous husband of mine.
We’re actually not married. In fact, I only met him a few days ago, and we’ve yet to make it a full day without irritating one another.
Not that it’s stopped me from becoming utterly infatuated with him, of course.
Because I am a weak, pathetic soul with no sense of self-preservation.
He made a series of increasingly miserable noises, helpfully explained by the boat rocking heavily from a broadside wave that sent him and Isabella grasping for the table to stay upright. Another followed, sending more water beneath the sealed door and trickling down the stairs.
“You were saying?”
Her increased concern was a small consolation. At least they would die screaming together.
“I can see land. We’re almost there,” Olivia announced, stumbling from the master suite to brace herself in the doorway.
She looked worse for wear, her pallor still a faint shade of nauseated, but for a woman who’d likely just lost two meals to seasickness, Heath admired her poise. Especially as the boat lurched through another wave.
A solid knock on the door startled them all. It slid open with a rush of water, behind which a very serious and bedraggled Nate sloshed in.
“Leave everything. We’ll come back for it.”
No one argued. No one could. It took every ounce of concentration to shuffle from one end of the cabin to the other without being thrown against the walls. Herculean strength was required to hold on while wind, waves, and torrential rain beat down on them topside.
Heath spotted Evan on the swim deck and allowed himself a moment of intense, bone-shaking relief.
Clothes plastered to every magnificent coil of muscle, Evan wrestled the wind while pulling the raft closer. His expression was pure, undiluted stress, but he was alive and at least physically unharmed.
“Ladies first,” Nate said, trying to smile through the sheeting rain. He held firm to Olivia while Evan fought to keep the raft steady. Isabella slid to the rear of the raft and fired up the outboard motor to assist with keeping it butted against the back of the yacht.
Heath stepped forward and Evan grabbed his arm, looking him dead in the eyes. “Don’t be trying to knock me in again.”
The desire to wrap Evan in his arms and lavish him with praise for his bravery sent more red flags scattering with the wind. “I won’t if you don’t.”
Nate and Evan were the last to board. Evan pushed the raft away from the boat so Nate could turn them toward shore, and everyone hunkered low, holding tight as water pelted them from all sides.
Heath moved to Evan’s side as the raft fought the current, telling himself it was to keep the ladies safe at the center. It was the warmth of Evan’s body, and the scent of salt and sweat on his skin, that really lured him closer. An intoxicating war of desire against fear waged in his belly.
The last of his common sense had shattered to pieces with a single kiss, and he let the wind carry the fragments away to rot on the ocean bottom.
He held no illusions about what would happen when their time at Stout Rock was over, but for the duration of that time, he vowed to accept whatever the universe threw at him.
God help him, but his red flags had all turned white.