Chapter 8
Trey had never given up his watch. His stomach growled as he swept over the end of the dock with the binoculars again. Where had she gone? And with Casey?!
He squeezed the body of the optics, a long, heavy breath whistling out through his nose. He couldn’t believe she’d done that. Left him on board without so much as a word, and gone to spend the day doing God knew what, God knew where with Casey, of all people !
There! His eyes narrowed as he spotted Jenn’s yellow blouse— now soaked in perspiration. Good God!
Trey followed her progress with the binoculars until she was within a hundred yards of the gangway, then dropped the optics on their leash around his neck and began alternately hopping and limping toward the hatch that would take him to the elevators.
He tapped the button then stood muttering, “Come on, come on,” under his breath until the doors dinged and opened.
Trey skip-limped as quickly as he could down the hall toward his room. When he reached the door, he slid the keycard and slipped inside, closing it quickly behind him and tossing the binoculars onto the bed.
He stood there, his eye pressed to the peephole and fought to get his breathing under control as he waited for Jenn to appear.
He checked his watch. Minutes passed by, and Jenn still hadn’t appeared. He was on the verge of giving up and trying to text her again when he heard voices in the hall. He stiffened.
It was Jenn. She said something out of sight and walked to her room. Trey took his eye away from the hole in the door and took a breath. Here went nothing.
He pulled the door open.
“Jenn?”
She paused in her doorway, her hand on the handle.
“Were you waiting for me?”
Trey hesitated, but only for a moment.
“Maybe,” he said with a quick smile. It faded as he saw it wasn’t returned.
“Did you need something?” Jenn’s voice was flat, carefully devoid of all emotion.
“I just wanted to see how your excursion went.” Trey left all judgment and attack out of his voice. It wouldn’t make him any headway right now.
“It was fine.” Jenn glanced at him, then turned to look longer when she saw the bandage around his foot. “What happened to you? Where did you go?”
Trey forced a laugh. “Nowhere. I never made it off the ship.” He tried to adjust his pant leg to cover the bandage unsuccessfully. “Did you do what we were planning on?”
Jenn scoffed. “The couples massage and retreat at the spa? No, I didn’t do that by myself.”
Trey couldn’t keep the skin around his eyes from tightening in suspicion. That wasn’t completely a “no.” One could argue that Jenn could have been telling the truth, even if she’d taken Casey with her in Trey’s stead.
“So, you didn’t go to the spa, then?”
Jenn looked down at herself. Trey’s eyes followed, taking in for the first time the mud- and dust-spattered sandals and hem of her skirt.
“No, Trey, I didn’t go to the spa.” Jenn’s hand went back to the door handle. “Was there something else? I’d really like to shower and get cleaned up.”
“You want any company in there?” Trey asked with a laugh.
“They’re a little small. I don’t think that’d work out very well.”
Trey took a tentative step forward. “I don’t know, we could probably squeeze in and figure things out, if you wanted.”
Jenn stared at him. Trey couldn’t quite decide what expression he could see behind her eyes.
“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll shower alone.”
Trey hesitated. She was still very much upset with him.
“I—Okay. Uh, do you want to connect up afterward? What are you feeling for dinner and the evening?”
He heard Jenn take in a deep breath, then watched as she looked up and down the hall.
“Shall we go ahead and have this conversation in my room?”
Trey’s heart sank. This was not how he saw the trip progressing at this point. He nodded quietly.
Jenn stepped inside and held the door for him to enter behind her. He limped inside, trying and failing to hide the depth of his injury.
“What exactly happened there?” Jenn asked quietly as she closed the cabin door.
Trey sat on the bed, wincing as he accidentally tried to support some of his weight with his injured foot. He smiled through gritted teeth. “Just tripped on some stairs.”
“Sorry; it looks like it hurts.”
Trey shrugged. “It’s not great, I’m not gonna lie.”
Without a word, Jenn lifted her shirt up over her head, leaving her solely in her bra and skirt.
Trey swallowed.
“Was there something you wanted to say?” Jenn asked, turning her attention to her sandals.
“Yeah. I—erm…” Trey tried and failed to take his eyes away from Jenn’s cleavage as she bent down to unlatch her footwear. Mother of pearl, she was beautiful!
He coughed, finally succeeding in jarring his own thoughts enough to look away. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Oh?” Jenn asked, stepping out of the sandals and tossing them into the bathroom. “What for, exactly?” She began to unzip the skirt, making clear her intent to continue undressing. Trey turned to face the sliding door at the back of her room leading to the private balcony.
“You were obviously upset last night, after you—,” he glanced at Jenn, who had paused when he’d said, “you.”
“—When I…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know where he was going from this side of things. He turned back to face her.
“You don’t know what you’re apologizing for, do you?” Jenn asked, her hands paused inside the waistband of her skirt.
Trey hesitated. This was clearly a trap, but he saw no way out of it. A false apology or an apology for the wrong thing would be worse than honesty.
He shook his head. “I really don’t, no. I kept us from fucking like wannabe porn stars in the public pool of a cruise ship.” His voice rose, and he could feel his face heat up. “I honestly don't see that as something requiring an apology.”
Jenn’s arms were crossed across the top of her chest now. It wasn’t the seductive, teasing crossing from the first night of the cruise. This crossing was all defiance and opposition. Jenn’s expression had gone from careful lack of expression to the steely gaze and clenched jaw of challenge.
“It’s called foreplay , Trey! I was doing my damndest to rev things up between us!” She shifted, pulling the skirt up a little higher as it sagged, undone, around her hips. “God knows someone has to take that on; all you’ve done is put the brakes on everything since the very first night.”
She’d paused. He knew this tactic: she was pausing to give him a chance to attempt to defend himself before further eviscerating him. A little more rope with which to hang himself. A tactic right out of the corporate handbook.
He saw all the warning signs, and still he took the bait, anyway.
“You were going to, and I quote, ‘ride my cock!’” He used air quotes to emphasize the line. He knew she hated that.
“I was talking dirty, Trey! People do it! I believe most men actually get quite the turn on from hearing the woman grinding their privates talk about wanting more.” She huffed, sneering. “Not you, apparently.”
“No? How about Casey? Casey into the whole dirty talking girl thing?” The words left Trey’s mouth before he could stop himself. The cold shiver of regret wiggled its way up his spine.
Jenn blinked and her mouth opened in what Trey could only interpret as disbelief. “Casey? I’m sorry, did you follow me or something?”
Trey shifted uncomfortably side to side on the bed. He hated fighting. “I… when you didn’t answer your door—,” he jerked his chin to point at it. “Or answer my texts, I went looking for you.”
“Okay, and what? Followed me all the way to my excursion?” Jenn glanced at Trey’s foot. “How did you really hurt your ankle?”
He winced from the accusation and the amount of hurt in her voice. “I really did fall down some stairs.”
Jenn didn’t miss a beat. “Then how did you see me with Casey? We didn't even meet up until the far end of the dock!”
“Whoa, hold on, ‘met up?’ Did you plan to meet him?”
“I’m not dignifying that with an answer.” Jenn turned to face the door and pulled it open, standing behind it. “Will you please go? I’d like to shower.”
Trey took an angry, shuddering breath in and stood up off the bed. He walked out on both feet, his pride hiding the pain from walking on the hurt ankle. The door clicked shut behind him.
“I don’t get it. We were going to spend the entire day together. Couples’ massages, a private seaside cabana, the works! It was supposed to be this incredibly romantic occasion, but instead…” Trey took a breath and a swallow of the whiskey in his glass. “She spent the entire day riding a fucking bicycle all over Mexico with that macho-prick, Casey!” He snorted derisively into the glass, glaring when it turned up empty.
Across from him, Chloe and Desire glanced at each other uncomfortably. Trey saw the look and glanced around the banquet hall, reminded of his surroundings.
“So, what are you thinking?” Chloe asked quietly. “Do we call everything off?”
Trey’s head shot up. “What? Are you kidding? No, absolutely not.” He drove the point of his finger into the tabletop to emphasize his point. “This is happening. Now, more than ever.”
Desire took a deep breath. Trey saw Chloe squeeze her elbow and shake her head minutely.
“What?” he asked shortly.
Desire took Chloe’s hand reassuringly. “If this is still going to happen, you have a lot of work to do. Because from where I stand, right now, not only is this not likely to happen, but if it keeps going this way, it’s impossible. You’ll never get her there right now. It doesn’t sound like she’d go anywhere with you, at this point.”
“Desire!” Chloe whispered harshly.
“What? He’s got to hear it.” Desire looked back to Trey. “Speaking of, have you found anywhere that something like what we’re planning is even possible, yet?”
Trey shook his head, spinning the tumbler between his fingers. He clenched his jaw.
Desire scoffed lightly. “So, is this basically going to be a monumental waste of time?”
“Stop it!” Chloe said. “We've still got time. He can make it work.” She turned to look at Trey, her eyes wide. “Right?”
Trey stood up. “I’m working on it. If you’ll excuse me, it seems I’ve got my work cut out for me.”