Chapter 7
JUDE
Zephyr’s attention has turned to Conner as we join the group. If I had to guess based on how Conner flushes every time Zephyr hits on him, he’s not used to that kind of attention. Strange. He truly is a good-looking man.
He’s likely doing so to set Conner at ease, both by way of Conner’s jealousy at our hug and to distract him from the prickly Reynold. I’ve always disliked Reynold. He’s an entitled asshole.
Granted, we’re all a little entitled. I get it. It comes with having deep pockets. But when you think you can use your wealth as a reason for being a dick… let’s just say karma has had his name for quite some time and she’s reaching her limit.
“So seriously,” Paisley says, “what does ‘hockey flunkee’ mean?”
Conner hides his scowl. I’m betting right now he wishes he’d have simply said he just graduated. “It means I wasn’t drafted. Not even for the ECHL.”
“Ah,” Paisley answers. She looks at me for a cue on how to handle this. Honestly, she should have left it alone. I don’t have a means of putting his mind at ease yet.
“That sucks,” Zephyr says. “Have you considered modeling? Nude modeling, preferably.”
Conner rolls his eyes, which ends up on me. Zephyr snuck into the chair with Conner before I made it over, so I’m sitting on the couch perpendicular. “No. I don’t know what I want to do yet. What do you do?”
Zephyr’s eyes lock on mine. When Conner turns his attention to Zephyr, I subtly shake my head. No, he doesn’t know. Cover story engage.
“I’m a private investigator with Van Doren.” He nods in Paisley’s direction. “Pay is my boss.”
Paisley smirks.
“You work for Van Doren, too?”
Paisley grins, and it’s the smile that the world recognizes. She is Van Doren. Clearly, Conner doesn’t keep up with the world of who’s who.
“Yes.”
Arek walks behind her and tugs on her hair. “This is my cousin, Conner,” he says, then points at the other Van Dorens. “Don’t let them pull one over on you. This place is plagued with Van Dorens.”
Paisley laughs merrily. “He’s not wrong, handsome. Currently, I think there are nineteen Van Dorens with active memberships in the Dark Island Boat Club.”
Conner looks at Zephyr. My best friend grins haughtily. “I appreciate that you think I’m part of the VD kingdom, but my legacy is Deth.”
“Death,” Conner repeats, frowning.
“D E T H. Deth. Same pronunciation, but spelling is crucial. But yeah. I’m the second generation of my family working for the Van Dorens,” Zephyr answers.
“I see,” Conner says. “Is being a PI profitable?”
“Depends on the month, but generally speaking, yes. The world is full of cheats, cons, and cruelty. I get to expose that bullshit. Even when the pay is a little lower than I like, it’s worth it in the end when I can cut someone down a peg or two.”
Conner nods, his eyes flitting back to me. And with that, I’ve put up with far more touching than I’m willing to see of someone else’s hands on my… Conner. I lean forward and grab his hand before yanking him away from Zephyr until he stumbles onto the couch, half on my lap. Zephyr laughs merrily.
Whatever. So I have a hidden possessive streak. Shocking.
“Okay, back to business. Quick catch-up. Next race is on Tuesday. Chokecherry is throwing a tantrum that the rest of us are conspiring against them, so they’re guaranteed to lose since the rest of us agreed on the 1920s Hacker-Craft, knowing theirs has never run correctly.
Despite the fact that they haven’t won a race in four years, of which Wolfe has graciously reminded them, they’re still up in arms,” Paul says.
I lean into Conner. “Okay, a brief backstory for context: Dark Island Boat Club has informally formed a league with four other boat clubs: Chokecherry, Grindstone, Carleton, and Wolfe. A Hacker-Craft Runabout is a type of race boat.”
He nods. “Got it.”
Paul mimics Conner’s nod. “We’ve all but agreed that Moll will pilot the boat, but shockingly, Reynold objects, and we’re waiting on a valid reason that isn’t fashioned around genitals.”
All attention turns to Reynold. He scowls at us. “It has nothing to do with her gender.”
“Which is why we’re waiting for an actual reason you disagree,” Paisley points out. “And still waiting.”
“That’s Moll,” I tell Conner, pointing at the pretty little girl beside Paisley. She’s not young, but she’s tiny, so she appears to be no older than eleven. “Molly Hildreth. Reynold’s younger sister, who is a master at driving the Hacker-Craft.”
“She handles it like it’s on fucking rails,” Zephyr says.
“However, Reynolds is not only sexist but hates that his younger sister is better than him at everything,” I say.
“Including handling a dick,” Paisley says as she dabs the corner of her mouth. “Even though Moll’s is a strap-on, she’s still so much better.”
“Context: Paisley used to date Reynold, but Moll stole her away,” I add.
“I didn’t,” Moll insists. “I simply told Paisley that my brother is a tool and she deserves someone who will treat her like the princess she is. It’s not my fault Reynold is an ass.”
Reynold scowls at Moll.
“I should point out that Paisley isn’t the first girlfriend Reynold has lost to his sister. She’s what? The third?” Zephyr asks.
“Fourth,” Axl says while fake coughing.
Moll shrugs. “Guess I just like to make sure that he’s not leaving his exes with a false sense of their self-worth. We all know that he thinks women should return to being second-class citizens and be subservient to men again.”
The entire group looks at Reynold. Under the stares, I’d have caved. But this man simply continues to scowl. I’m never completely sure why he’s here. Why he sticks around. He has no friends within the boat club, nor within the dark secrets it hides.
My guess is he has no friends anywhere he goes. At least here, he’s part of something. Even if he’s a part we’d all like to erase most days.
“Well,” Paul prompts. “Why shouldn’t Moll pilot the Hacker-Craft?”
Reynold doesn’t have an answer. Not one that’s going to find support or gain him any fans.
“Okay, then if we have no actual objections, Moll it is,” Paul says.
“You can’t do that,” Reynold says. “Club rules state that the vote for the pilot needs to be unanimous. I still object.”
“Actually, we modified the rule last summer, if you recall. Majority—which is everyone except you—agreed that a vote can be considered unanimous if there is no reasonable objection, which goes on to list what isn’t considered reasonable, and I quote, ‘no given reason is unreasonable’ and ‘because I don’t like them’ is also unreasonable.
Also on that list is disagreeing because of gender,” Paisley says.
“So, one more time. Do you have an actual reason why Moll shouldn’t pilot the race? ”
“I didn’t agree to that rule change,” Reynold hisses.
“Unfortunately for you, the rules of the boat club are passed with a three-quarters majority needed in a minimum of twenty-eight seats being present at the session. As such, you made up the one and only objection,” Paul says.
“In other words, no one gives a fuck whether you agreed,” Arek notes. “Moll races. Get over yourself, dipshit.”
Darwin leans forward and holds his forefinger and thumb less than a centimeter apart as he stares at Reynold. “This close, Hildreth. You have zero allies here. You have less than no sympathy. You’re this close to disappearing.”
I glance at Conner. He’s watching it all silently. A prickle of concern that he’s going to link my foreplay confession of murder to Darwin’s assertion of making Reynold disappear. But he’s simply watching. Curious maybe. But unbothered.
Thankfully, I don’t think he’s taking it seriously.
“Want to go for a ride?” Zephyr asks, abruptly changing the subject. He’s looking at Conner with a big, flirty smile. It’s no coincidence that his question can also be taken as a sexual proposition.
Conner hears it too. He looks at me.
Grinning, I wave my hand at the boats. “Pick one. We’ll head out onto the water.”
He looks toward the door that gives us a stunted view of the lake. “It’s getting dark.”
“There are lights on the boat, handsome,” Paisley says, getting to her feet. “Come on. We’ll sleep on the Betty Anne tonight.”
“That’s the Betty Anne, a 1953 houseboat owned by the Boldt family,” I tell him. “There’s an island west of here that’s home to the unfinished Boldt Castle.”
“Why is it unfinished?” he asks as I lead him toward the Betty Anne.
“The man’s wife died before it was complete, and he was so heartbroken that he telegraphed in telling the workers to stop construction. It lay abandoned for years.”
“Wow. That’s… dramatic,” Conner says.
Zephyr snorts. “Can you not imagine being so heartbroken that you abandon a house you’re building with your family in mind?”
Conner examines the houseboat as we head for the ramp. “No,” he says. “It seems a little Romeo and Juliet, doesn’t it?”
“Tragedy,” Paisley says, her laughter echoing off the walls of the boathouse.
“I guess I’d sell it if I couldn’t finish it. Not just abandon it,” Conner says.
“Come.” I grip his hand. “Let’s go lay claim to a room.” I grab the banner on the railing that reads ‘Vincent’ and pull him onto the boat. We make for the stairs and take them two at a time. Conner’s laughter follows me, making me smile.
I hang the banner from the peg on the outside of the door and pull him inside. The door shuts, and I step into him, pressing our bodies together. “The walls are paper-thin,” I tell him.
He looks around, taking in the space.
“Tonight, everyone is going to hear how well you fuck me.”
His cheeks heat, eyes narrow. “Oh, yeah?”
“You going to pretend that doesn’t turn you on? Even a little?”
Conner thinks about it, his eyes remaining locked with mine. “I’m not into exhibitionism.”
“Oh, me either. No one will see us. I have a career to protect,” I tease, though I’m serious.
His shoulders sag a little, and I mentally kick myself. Way to go, Vincent. I kiss him, trying to take his mind off his lack of job prospects for the time being.
“Listen,” I say, dropping my hands to his ass in the same way his hands are on mine. “After the race, I’ll get you with Axl. In a lot of ways, he’s the Van Doren recruiter. I bet he’ll have some worthwhile and interesting options for you while you find a way to keep hockey your focus.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Conner says. “It’s not your job to find me a job. It’s entirely my fault that I didn’t so much as consider the idea that I’d not be drafted. Even when all the signs pointed in that direction, I refused to believe it. This is the bed I made.”
“Only a fool refuses help when offered,” I tell him.
I’m relieved when one corner of his mouth quirks up. “I think I’ve just established that I’m a fool.”
“Just talk to Axl, okay? I’m not disagreeing with you.
Yes, this is the bed you made for yourself.
But two things. You’re not the only one in history or even new graduate in this position, and you won’t be the last. Second, don’t continue down this road where you keep kicking yourself in the ass instead of picking yourself up and moving forward.
Don’t be that person. You’re better than that. ”
Conner’s eyes remain locked on mine. I’m slightly surprised when he kisses me hotly. “You’re right. Everyone is going to hear how good I fuck you tonight.”
I grin and take a step back. “I’ll show you the rest of the boat.”
He grips my hand, keeping me from opening the door. I look over my shoulder at him.
“Thank you for continuing to talk me down. Or… up, maybe. I appreciate it.”
This time, I grip the back of his head and bring his mouth to mine for a softer, sweeter kiss. “Life might feel like it’s over right now, but it’s only just beginning. I promise. Good things are ahead, no matter how bleak it might seem to you.”
“You sound convinced of that.”
“I am. You’re surrounded by the heirs of several stupidly successful fortunes, Conner. Even if you don’t find what you want to do for the rest of your life, I swear to you, by the end of summer, you’re going to have a future to work toward.”
Even if that future is as my bed slave. I won’t share this now, but it’s certainly a viable option.