Chapter 32
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
JUNE
Shivers wrack my body. The adrenaline’s still forcing its way out. My teeth chatter, and a concerned member of the crew brings me a thermal blanket and a mug of hot tea. I swear I’ll take them a basket of cookies once it’s safe to go home and bake them. Well, buy them. I won’t have time to bake them, not with all the work I’ll need to do on the Santu Espiritu .
First up: finding and funding a replacement for the Betty .
Thompson stands next to me, leaning on the railing of the cutter, looking off to the distance, and I study his face. He’s handsome, that blond-haired and blue-eyed athletic quality that would have most women swooning.
Still, he has nothing on Dean’s rugged looks.
I frown.
Dean, who got what he wanted from me. He found the drugs.
I have no right to hope for anything else from him.
He found the drugs, because my dad was a bad guy.
It makes me sick, and my knuckles whiten around the cup. The proof is undeniable. It’s all around me, in the way all these government and military types hold their weapons, in the way the Coast Guard cutter glides through the water, straight to the shipment they want to seize. Charlie would probably feel right at home here, but she stayed on shore at Dean’s orders.
I sip the tea, holding it in my mouth, letting the warmth coat my throat. The sky a steel gray now, thunder threatening in the distance, the water choppy and rough. I used to love this weather as a girl, loved to watch it roll in and threaten violence from the skies.
Maybe I’m tougher than I give myself credit for.
“He likes you,” Thompson finally says.
“Who?” I pull the blanket closer around my shoulders.
“Nah, you’re smarter than that.”
I nod. “It’s going to rain.” I’m too raw for this conversation, my nerves scraped bare by the revelation of my father’s involvement. By the knowledge that I’m out of my depth when it comes to my feelings for Dean Evans.
“Do you like him?”
What is this, fifth grade? The question almost slips out, but I stop myself. Another shiver shakes me and Thompson reaches out, clamping my shoulder. I look up at him, hair whipping out of my hastily tied braid. Trying to focus on anything but the reality of where we’re going.
More hair lashes across my face. Ahhhh . I will never go anywhere without my no-slip grip rubber bands again. Part of me is surprised my hair hasn’t poked someone’s eye out at this point.
“You don’t have to answer. But I know him. I’ve known him for years. He’s saved my life a few times.” Thompson jerks his chin to where Dean stands, glowering at me. “He’s got it bad for you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” My throat is tight.
“Of course it matters.”
“But he’ll leave when this is over, and I’ll be left with what?” I blink rapidly.
Thompson sighs, pulling me into him. “Don’t cry. I can’t stand it when pretty women cry.”
I make a noise somewhere between a sniffle and a laugh. “I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of trying and getting hurt.”
He lets me go, pushing me away and resuming his lean against the railing. His biceps flex as he braces against a wave. Tea sloshes over the top of the cup.
“I think we’re all tired of that.” His eyes look old, the good humor replaced by something darker. “He’s got walls up. The last woman, she did a real number on him.”
“I’m not her.” I’m sick of hearing about this other woman.
He chuckles again, a dark sound. “All I’m saying is if you like him, you should try. At least a little bit. I think he’ll meet you halfway.”
“I don’t want halfway.”
Thompson reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to worry about halfway with Dean Evans. He’s all or nothing.”
He studies me, eyes lingering for half a second too long on my lips. “It’s a good thing he found you first.”
I have nothing to say to that, so I take another sip of the lukewarm tea. He dips his head and walks away.
The sea rolls under the boat, gray-green and inscrutable. Leaning my elbows against the railing, I turn Thompson’s words over in my head.
I like Dean.
A lot.
He’s a good man: smart, funny, kind, with a drive that matches my own.
We’ll probably have the shipment in the next hour. And then what?
We have a few nights together, if we’re lucky, and Dean and his merry band of man-meat will be on their way to their next job.
It’s a surefire path to heartbreak, continuing this thing between us. I don’t aim for things that aren’t possible.
Well, except for the Santu Espiritu . No one seemed to believe I’d find that, and look how that turned out.
Self-satisfaction curls in my chest, purring like a happy cat.
At least I have that. At least I found the Santu Espiritu.
I always thought I’d be happier after I found the ship, like finding it would solve all my problems.
It didn’t.
Maybe I should try for one more slightly impossible thing. Maybe I should just see what happens with Dean instead of overanalyzing everything.
White-capped waves break against the dark surface of the water, and my hands are steady on my cup. The shaking stops. The teabag’s tag blows in the wind, and I let my mind drift.
“What’d Thompson say to you?”
I startle, so lost in my thoughts I didn’t Dean walk towards me.
He steps closer.
Despite all my best intentions, the walls I constructed in my mind, the arguments against this, against him, fail completely.
I’m happy to see him.
“Was he an ass?” There’s an edge to his voice now, so sharp it might cut me if I let it.
“Not at all.” My voice is soft.
Dean stiffens next to me, a muscle twitching in his jaw, and I avert my eyes. Everything about this man appeals to me. But why should I be the one to fix him? It isn’t my fault the last woman he loved did a number on him.
“Listen to me, princess.”
“June,” I correct, staring at the ominous gray horizon.
“Thompson is a sweet-talker.” He clears his throat and I cough, covering up a laugh, and turn to him, an eyebrow raised. “I don’t know what he said to you, and frankly, it’s none of my business, but just, you know, he’s a ladies’ man. I saw him touch your hair.”
“For crying out loud.” Great. I’m falling for a man who makes a living doing all kinds of government dirty work—and is also an idiot. “You’re right. It’s none of your business.”
He blinks, schooling his features into blankness.
“Do you want me to tell you what we talked about?”
“Maybe,” he says cagily, eyes avid, betraying his interest. His big hands fist at his sides. I avoid rolling my eyes, but just barely.
“Maybe?” I echo.
“Okay, yes. Yes, I do want to know.” He nods once, his eyes dipping to my lips, to the where my Divers Know How to Go Down shirt stretches across my chest.
“He told me you like me, and that you’re a good guy, Dean Evans.” My skin is electric, tingling in anticipation, my whole body primed to feel his hands on me.
My calves tighten as I raise up on my tiptoes and kiss him. He stiffens in surprise before his arms wrap around me.
Thunder rolls overhead and he deepens the kiss, his hands running through my still damp hair. My lips part, and I press myself against him. The hair on his jawline softer now, the harsh stubble gone. I revel in it, stroking his face, the blanket forgotten. The shivering stops as his tongue sweeps against my lower lip, and I moan into his mouth. Wanting his tongue in other places.
A crew member wolf whistles, a few others joining in.
Breaking the kiss, I grin at him and he turns, scowling. The Coast Guard applause dies at his expression.
“Do you want to know what else he told me, Dean Evans?”
I can’t take my eyes off him, off the desire in his expression. Loving the feeling of him around me, caging me in against the railing, his massive, strong body protecting me. The way he protected me this whole time, and not just physically. Letting me believe in my father’s innocence, letting me draw my own conclusions, then holding me tight as the truth came crashing down.
Part of me wants to be mad at him for ruining my memories of my father—but none of it is his fault. My father is in the past. What he did… it’s unconscionable.
But Dean isn’t in the past.
Dean is flesh and blood, standing in front of me. He is now. And maybe…
“Well?” I prompt when he doesn’t answer.
He shakes his head, bringing his forehead to me.
“He told me to meet you halfway.” I press another quick kiss to his lips.
“Is that so?” His voice is somewhere between a growl and a rasp, sending goosebumps pebbling over my arms. Tepid tea sloshes over my hand as the boat hits another rough wave. The first raindrops splash across my cheek and nose, and he wipes them away.
“I have a problem with that, though.” I tilt my chin.
“Oh.” Disappointment laces the syllable.
“Yeah. I don’t want halfway.”
Another wave hits, and his body rocks into mine. I groan, softly, eyes half closing at the pressure.
“What do you want?” His lips are at my ear.
“I want to go all the way.” Fire races through my veins as I say it, my own words catching me off guard.
It feels good.
He kisses the side of my neck, and the rain begins falling in earnest. My eyes close.
“It’s going to have to wait until we can get off this boat.” Dean presses another kiss against my neck. “Because when I take you, it’s going to be loud.” He whispers it like a promise. “I’m going to figure out what makes you scream, and I’m going to do it over and over again.”
“Oh.” I blink. “Okay, sounds good to me.”
“That’s all you have to say?” he asks, laughing. He pulls back, and I drink him in, the aggressively masculine jawline, the heat in his eyes. The way his body feels against mine.
“What’s wrong with what I said?” My nose scrunches. “I said yes. That sounds nice.”
“Nice?” he chokes out.
I nod.
He lets out a loud laugh.
“Then let’s get you out of this rain. I don’t want you catching a cold, not with what I’ve got planned.” He grins, and his wicked smile makes my knees weak.
“Do you think they’ll turn the boat around? This could be an emergency, you know.” I’m babbling again.
“What kind of emergency, princess?”
“Pants. Let’s tell them I have a pants emergency.”
He laughs louder and picks up my blanket.
“I doubt they’d do it, even for you, princess.” Dean leans close again, tucking the blanket back around me. “It’s okay, though. Just keep imagining how good it’s going to be when I get you off… this boat.”
He winks, and it’s all I can do not to jump back on him.
“I’ll get you some more tea,” he says, tugging me into the safety of the cutter’s cabin.
Tea, for once, isn’t going to hit the spot.