Chapter 13
Captain Kendra’s Log: Panic-cleaning works. Sometimes.
“Joy, it was ridiculous,” I shouted into the speaker phone as I panic-cleaned my houseboat. “That idiot told Jesse and True that we were engaged. Then, he invited them over to ‘our’ houseboat.”
Joy’s laughter through the phone was not reassuring.
“I don’t think you’re grasping the severity of this situation!” I tugged on my hair. “Ugh! That man!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Joy’s laughter died down. “I haven’t heard you this worked up over a man since Jesse left. Well, even then. I don’t think you were this worked up about Jesse!”
I paused with my hands full of papers. I had no idea how I accumulated so much paper in a digital-first world, but the evidence gave me paper cuts. Then, her words sunk in. “That’s not true. I was plenty worked up about Jesse.”
“As a teenager. Sure. Hormones and all that. But this is grown-up worked up. That’s different,” Joy said. “Tell me about Rowan. What’s he like?”
“He’s like a big pain in the ass.”
“Doubtful.”
“True facts.”
Joy cleared her throat. “As my Hottie Newsman husband-to-be tells me - all facts are true. That’s why they’re facts.”
“What-ever.” I threw up a W with my fingers, even though she couldn’t see me.
“Oh, he must be hot.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. He is objectively hot. Everyone sees him and knows he’s hot. Dark hair - salt and pepper. Blue eyes. And that accent.”
“Wait. Wait. Wait. He has an accent?” Joy’s voice went up an octave. “That’s panty-melting stuff right there. Unless it’s German. That’s a little… no wait. German’s hot, too.”
“Hey!” Thorn yelled in the background.
“Sorry, Hottie Newsman. I love you, but I can’t help my kinks,” Joy’s muffled response made me laugh. “Now, Kendra. What kind of accent?”
“Australian.”
“Ooooooh. Australian. Put another shrimp on the barbie!”
I shook my head. “They don’t say that.”
“Does he call you a Sheila?”
“No. He calls me Goldilocks.”
Joy’s laughter filled the houseboat, and I couldn’t help but laugh with her. Her laughter was contagious.
“This is too good,” Joy yelled. “Thorn! He calls her Goldilocks!” Thorn started laughing, too. I didn’t know what he thought was so funny. Joy turned back to our call. “What else?”
“Nothing else.” I loudly ruffled the papers in my hands. “Oooh. Something has come up. I gotta get moving.”
“Oh, my lord. You slept with him!”
I blew out a breath. “Why would you say that?”
“YOU DIDN’T DENY IT!!!”
“Cheese and crackers, Joy.”
“STILL NO DENIAL!”
“Fine. I slept with him. Sort of.”
“Sort of? What is this sort of?”
“I rage fucked him in the Flamingo Cove Marina outdoor shower.”
Joy hooted with laughter, and I considered hanging up on her and blocking her from ever calling me again, but she would figure out a way around that. Or send my stealth brother. Nothing would stop Brock from getting to me. I shuddered.
“Goodbye, Joy. I have to finish panic-cleaning before my fake fiancé, the love of my life, and his fiancée show up here.”
“Later, friend. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I pressed “end” on the call to her hoots of laughter and shook my head again. Joy was my oldest friend in the world. She knew everything about me, which meant she knew exactly how to tease me mercilessly. I dreaded what she’d come up with next.
“Knock, knock,” Rowan’s voice boomed through the open doorway.
That deep, Australian voice did something to me. And for a moment, I forgot about everything else.
I was in a daze as I watched him enter my main living area, cloth bags of groceries hanging off his arms. He was wearing another short-sleeved shirt, which meant I could see his bulging biceps and the hint of that anchor tattoo.
But the tattoo didn’t capture my attention this time. My fake fiancé was jacked.
“Goldilocks, if you keep looking at me like that, I’ll lock the front door, throw you over my shoulder, and drag you back to the stateroom to tie you up and pleasure you for a week,” Rowan warned.
Yes, please. Let’s do that. My lady business whispered.
I wiggled and shook my head, hoping to clear some sense in there. “Nope. Nope. Nope. We said no funny business. You fucked that royally on the boat yesterday, and now we’re stuck.”
“You could have told him the truth,” Rowan said as he set the groceries on the cluttered coffee table and looked around. He sighed heavily. “This place is a pigsty.”
“Hey! You’re two hours early! I was cleaning.” I defended myself.
Rowan crossed the room to pull the stack of papers from my hands. “Yes. I can see you’re hard at work.” He glanced at the paperwork. “Sorting through grocery store coupons that are expired.”
I fumed. “I’ve been busy.”
He laid the coupons on the pile I had made on the counter, then turned to face me. “Yes. I understand that.” He perused my cleaning attire and messy hair. “But perhaps you let me help you? I’ll work in here while you shower and get ready.”
I thought about it for a few minutes. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to have Rowan tidy up. I had been at it for 30 minutes and only made a slight dent in the papers. “Fine. Don’t mess up my piles.”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing that, love. Now, go get in the shower. Take your time. I got this out here.” He shooed me toward the stateroom.
It wasn’t until I was standing under the hot shower that I clocked the word “love” that he threw my way.
Why did that do funny things to me? I was trying to win Jesse back. I didn’t have time for Rowan’s nonsense. This was ridiculous, anyway. Rowan is Australian. Love was like the word mate. They all talked like that, didn’t they?
I got out of the shower feeling like a brand-new woman. And this brand-new woman took her time getting dressed. Okay, fine. I took my time because I couldn’t find anything clean to wear. I had to go to the back of my closet to pull out a black dress I wore to a funeral last year.
Joy picked out the dress for me since she was the dress gal in our friendship.
I thought the dress was too sexy for a funeral, but Joy told me it was a statement piece that would last. “Every woman needs a little black dress in her closet,” she said.
But if I felt self-conscious, I could wear a sweater over it.
Now, I was glad for the sexiness. It would show off my assets to Jesse.
I managed to find some heels and sauntered out of my room with 30 minutes until showtime.
I discovered I had stepped through a wormhole or something because the room I entered was not the one I left.
Everything was spotless. Rowan found my cleaning supplies and polished the tables and counters.
He dusted the furniture and rearranged the dining area to accommodate four people.
My seashells were neatly arranged in their gleaming glass jars along the shelves.
And the broken compass I’d been searching for sat in a place of pride right in the middle.
I think he even washed the windows because I could see the sky clearly, as if there was no glass in the panes.
My galley kitchen smelled magical, and as I slowly approached the man responsible for all of it, he dipped a spoon into a pot and pulled out a taste.
I watched his tongue flick out to catch the spoon bowl, and his eyes closed as his generous mouth closed around the spoon, and he reveled in the taste of whatever magnificence he created on my stove.
I think he even moaned. Maybe that was me.
“What are you making? Orgasm soup?” I quipped.
His eyes flew open, and he bobbled the spoon as he caught a full-length view of me. “Goldilocks! You look amazing.”
I twirled. “This old thing?”
Rowan put the spoon in the sink and stalked toward me, eyes locked on mine. I felt the sudden urge to run away from him, but knew he’d catch me and do all that shoulder-throwing stuff he talked about earlier.
I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to remember Jesse.
Jesse, who was on his way over here right now.
Jesse. Jesse. Jess—Rowan slid his arms around my waist and pressed his palms against my lower back. He pulled me closer to that warm, spicy aroma that gave me the urge to lean in and lick him like a pervert.
I felt his lips brush my ear as he whispered. “Kendra, you could wear a paper bag and look delectable. But in this dress, you make me have thoughts I shouldn’t have.”
“Like what?” I asked breathlessly, my eyes still closed.
“You don’t want me to tell you,” Rowan teased.
I swallowed and licked my lips. “Pretty sure I do.”
“You asked for this,” Rowan breathed and pulled me closer.
“I want to slide this dress off your shoulders until it hits the floor. You slowly step out of the fabric, still wearing your heels, and I lift you onto the table, where I lay you out before me. My own personal Kendra feast. Can you imagine that?”
I pressed my legs together and tried to remember to breathe. I nodded.
“I would then put your heels flat on the table and put your hands on your knees, making you spread them wide so I had an excellent view of that pretty pussy of yours. I would tease your clit until you were dripping, waiting for me. Then, I’d press my face to your core and lick and suck you until you screamed my name. ”
I gulped. “That… that—”
“And if you didn’t scream my name when you came all over my face,” Rowan growled. “I’d tie your hands together and make you watch me declutter your spice cabinet.”
“Yes,” I whispered, startled, my eyes flying open. “Wait. What? I have a spice cabinet.”
“You do. And it’s full of expired spices that I would throw out while you watched me.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Rowan stepped away from me with a mischievous grin. “I would. I let it slide last time. You called out his name when I made you come on my dick. I won’t let it happen the next time.”
I flipped my hair over my shoulder, hoping it would stir up a breeze in here. It was freaking hot. “There won’t be a ‘next time.’”
Rowan lifted an eyebrow, then reached for his pants to adjust himself. I couldn’t help following his movements, noticing the stiff shaft tenting his dress pants. “If you say so, Goldilocks.”