Chapter 8
Rowan Rafferty may need to rewrite the HR handbook
“Pete is a pain in my arse,” I grumbled, shaking my head at the towering mountain of paperwork on my polished mahogany desk.
The stacks seemed to multiply before my eyes, each page an irritating reminder of everything that needed to be handled.
Not only was payroll due yesterday, but now my leading entertainer—the central character to this godforsaken dinner cruise—was calling in sick.
Again. I could feel a migraine forming at the base of my skull.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the salty sea breeze from the open windows, a mix of warmth and sharp tang that should have been invigorating but instead felt like the weight of a thousand expectations pressing down on my shoulders as I thought about the large crew working in the kitchen.
“He feels the role is beneath him,” Justin, my First Mate, explained, shifting nervously from foot to foot outside my office. His voice was steady, but I could see the nervous twitch in his hand, a habit of his when he was unsure of my reaction.
“Of course, it’s beneath him,” I muttered, staring at Justin over the top of my readers.
I could feel the tension in the room like static in the air.
The sharp hum of the fluorescent lights above matched the buzz behind my eyes.
“He’s playing Pegleg Pete on Pegleg Pete’s Pirate Extravaganza.
A ridiculously overpriced dinner cruise with watered-down grog. ”
Justin shuffled on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the tension in the air. His eyes darted around the room, his posture stiff as if expecting me to lash out. I didn’t have the patience for it.
“Well, he’s refusing to come in today, and we need someone to play Pegleg Pete,” he finally said, his voice a bit more timid now. “And the guys thought—”
I rubbed my knee, feeling the phantom ache shoot up my leg, and sighed. The physical pain mixed with my frustration, a reminder that I wasn’t at my best—far from it. “You thought I’d be perfect for it.”
Justin’s eyes flickered, the sunlight streaming through the portal windows catching the gold in his dark skin. “That’s right. You know.” He motioned toward me, his hands hovering awkwardly, waiting for me to finish the sentence.
I could feel his nervous energy seeping into the space between us like a low-grade static charge that made the hairs on my neck stand up.
I stepped out from behind my desk, my prosthetic boot thumping against the hardwood as I closed the distance between us.
I glared up at him, not caring that he was slightly taller.
His posture shrunk under my gaze, and I couldn’t help the flicker of satisfaction I felt from seeing him finally show a little discomfort. “I know. And the answer is no. I captain the ship until we find a new one, and even then, as the kids say—not just no, but hell no.”
“Okay, forget about the pegleg. You could wear an eyepatch.”
“No.”
“It would make you seem mysterious! Women love mystery.”
“I’m not looking for a date.” My stomach twisted at the idea. “And I don’t do mysterious.”
“Do you do happy? Smiley? Those work, too.”
I could feel my temper flaring and my chest tightening as I stepped forward, trying to contain it. “Justin, you’re about five seconds from being fired or worse.”
His hands shot up in surrender. “Sir, I didn’t mean—”
I raised an eyebrow, the unspoken challenge hanging between us.
“You’ll fill the role tonight. And if Pete doesn’t come in tomorrow, that’s three days in a row he’s missed, and he’ll be fired for a no-show.
Please convey this to him. And straighten your uniform.
You look like you picked it off the floor before you came into work! ”
Justin hesitated, his gaze darting nervously from me to the door as if weighing his options. The silence between us was thick enough to cut through. Then, without a word, he turned and fled before I fired him or made him walk the plank.
As an official pirate, I had the authority to do that.
I contemplated it multiple times when the crew failed inspections or repeatedly mentioned my similarities with the fictional Pegleg Pete.
It was hard not to think about it, especially when faced with my shortcomings every time I looked in a full-length mirror, which I tried to avoid.
I slammed the office door in frustration.
The sharp edge of irritation lingered in my chest, and I limped back to my desk, feeling the weight of everything pressing in on me.
The physical therapist had said it could take a while for me to feel like myself again after the surgery.
I might’ve told her to sod off on one of those excruciating days.
How can you ever feel like yourself after something like that?
A firm knock at the door snapped me from my thoughts, and I stiffened, already bracing for another ridiculous request. “I told you, Justin. I’m not doing it. Ask me again, and you’re fired!”
“I don’t know who Justin is,” a muffled reply came through the wooden door, and I felt an immediate jolt of recognition in my gut. “I’m here to apply for the Captain’s position?”
My heart leaped in my chest, and my dick twitched, a rush of heat flooding my system.
The sharpness of her voice still echoed in my mind, and I could feel the pulse in my ears.
There was no way it could be her. Kendra's boat had been nearly devoured by flames yesterday. Wasn’t she supposed to be grappling with the aftermath?
I hustled across the room, the tension coiling in my stomach, my breath coming a little faster as I gripped the doorknob, half-hoping, half-dreading, that it was her. And then, there she was, standing in the dimly lit passageway.
Her black deck shoes, worn and weathered, grounded her in a way that made my chest tighten.
She hadn’t been wearing those when we rescued her—she’d been barefoot and covered in soot.
Her black pants were rumpled with permanent white creases in them.
A formerly white blouse with a dingy gray tinge was mostly tucked into the waistband.
Part of it hung down on the side of her hip.
Her blonde locks were pulled into a haphazard bun atop her head.
And when her puffy blue eyes met mine, she gasped.
“You!”
“Me.”
“You work here?”
I nodded. “Worse than that. I own this ship. But never mind about me. Are you okay? Last night was—”
“Not as crazy as the first night we met,” she said before slapping a hand over her mouth. A rosy flush crept from her neckline and spread across her fair complexion. “Oh, Holy Night. I’m so sorry! That’s unprofessional of me.”
“No worries, Goldilocks.” I stepped out of the doorway and gestured for her to enter my office. “Please come in. Would you fancy some tea? Or coffee?”
She shook her head and wandered into my temporary work and sleeping space.
At least, it was supposed to be. I bought the floundering pirate-themed cruise ship as a lark to piss off my dad.
But something about the ridiculous place kept me here.
And it certainly did not, in any way, shape, or form, have anything to do with the lass studying my framed degree on the wall.
“Who’s Rowan Rafferty?”
I pointed to my chest.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “‘Raff. Call me Raff.’”
Was she trying to mimic an Australian accent? And why did it sound like Bob Marley?
I smiled at her. “That’s what people call me.”
She tilted her head and squinted at me. “Does anyone else see these people, or just you?”
I raised an eyebrow at her, and she returned to the wall.
“You went to M.I.T.?” Kendra asked.
I shrugged. “Like it’s hard?”
“That’s what he said,” Kendra snarked.
It was good that I hadn’t been drinking anything at the time. I would have snort-laughed it right out of my nose. “Good one.”
She shrugged. “I have jokes.”
“Yes. I went to M.I.T. and received a PhD in Naval Architecture,” I answered her question.
Kendra hummed in approval and moved to the next frame on my wall. The only other framed anything in my office. “Pirate?”
“You can’t run a pirate-themed dinner cruise without being a certified pirate, can you?” I challenged.
“Pretty sure you can. People can do all sorts of things. Remember that woman in the early 2000s, Miss Claire? Charged people nine dollars a minute for psychic readings over the telephone? She wasn’t a psychic.”
“How do you know she wasn’t a psychic?” I asked.
“Because psychics don’t exist.”
“Agree to disagree.” I thought for a minute, tapping my chin. “Do you have a better argument for this people can do anything - thing?”
“Sure. How about all those people who sell herbal remedies or supplements? The government doesn’t regulate it. And most of them don’t have a business license. They’re running around all willy-nilly selling snake oil.”
“Willy-nilly?”
“I stand by it.”
I nodded. “Okay. I see your point. One doesn’t have to have a certificate of piracy to own or operate a pirate-themed dinner cruise. I happen to do both.”
She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t miss the beginning of a smile turning up the edge of her full lips.
Lips that I dreamed about at night. I shook myself out of it and returned to the moment.
“Is that why you’re here? To ask me about my degree?
How did you know where to find me?” I pointedly glanced at her boat shoes.
“Seems like you’re not dressed for a casual chat about post-secondary education. ”
Kendra sunk into my guest chair with a heavy sigh. “I came here to apply for the Captain job, even though your crew has been harassing my charter ship for months. And, well, that ship is currently being towed back here for repairs. So, charters are off, for now.”
My chest tightened. It was a tragedy, no matter how you looked at it, but to see this beautiful woman in anguish because of it. I wanted to do something. “You’re hired.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes. You are.”
“No,” Kendra said, louder this time. “I’m not. You cannot hire me. We had sex!”
I glanced at the not-quite-closed door. “Say it a little louder next time, eh?”
“Sorry. Sorry.”
“It’s all good. But you’re still hired.”
“No. I’m still not. We had sex. I didn’t know that it was you when I set out to apply for this job today. So, thank you for the offer, but it’s still no,” Kendra said.
I sat behind my desk and shoved one pile of paperwork to the side so I could look at her unimpeded.
“Not to be a complete arsehole while I’m trying to hire you against your will, it seems, but why do you need a job in the first place?
Insurance will cover a fire on that that charter ship you own.
What’s the name again? Something to do with sex and movies? ”
“Netfish and Chill.”
“Right.” I laughed at that. “Good name.”
That lightened the mood slightly, but the frown returned to her face, creating a crease between her eyebrows.
“Yes. I own that ship, but as you saw, it sustained a lot of fire damage.” She paused to pick at a hangnail on her thumb.
Kendra wouldn’t meet my eye, and I suspected it had nothing to do with our night in the outdoor shower, where she called me by another man’s name.
As I remembered that night, something else came to mind: despite being the Captain of her ship, she followed orders very well.
“Kendra.” I rose to my feet and rested my fingertips on the edge of my desk. “Tell me why you need a job.”
She bit her lip. “The insurance company says I didn’t pay the premium last month, which means I didn’t have any coverage for the Netfish.” She swallowed. “I checked. It’s true. I forgot to pay it.”
Shit.
“And moments ago, I heard from the Coast Guard. They’ll be sending me a bill for the rescue operation.
Not to mention the towing bill. Thankfully, it’s not leaking fuel, which would damage the sensitive marine habitat and mean more fines I can’t afford.
” She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her head back. “I guess that’s the bright spot.”
“Right. Not only are you taking this job, I’m paying you double what was advertised,” I said. “Now, let’s get the paperwork started.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I am also that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop. Stop with the pity. Pity sex. Pity job. Pity. Pity. Pity. I don’t want it!” She stood up angrily and tried to storm out.
I raced her to the door and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“You don’t want it but need it, right?” I felt like a heel when her watery eyes met mine.
She nodded. I continued, “Then you’ll take this job.
No funny business. Strictly professional.
I need a competent Captain for this ship so that I can work on the business side.
It’s too much to do both. You’re doing me a favor.
And in return, you’ll be paid a tidy sum of money that will assist you in returning to charter boat captaining if you so choose. ”
Kendra let out a long, heavy sigh, her shoulders slumped as she pondered the decision.
I squeezed her shoulder. “Kendra, I know we don’t know each other, but I promise you. I’m a man of my word. If I tell you I’ll keep this strictly professional, I will.”
“I want to believe you,” Kendra said, then nodded in agreement. Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes averted. “Fine. But no funny business. I’ve wrecked enough things around this marina to last a lifetime.”
As I guided her off the ship, it took all I had to keep my hands to myself.
No funny business.
That would be easier said than done.