Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I huffed and shook my head. Idiot. I should have left the dance club and found my way to the hostel. Doc and Grandpa were probably wondering where I was since I’d never checked in after getting off my last job. We had a deal that I called every Sunday between gigs, and now it was Monday night.
I indulged in a luxurious body scrub and hair wash, using some kind of fancy-ass body wash in a brown and gold bottle. It smelled like cedar and lemon if those two things had been delicately blended in a boutique in Paris.
I raced through a quick drying off, found a new toothbrush in a cabinet for a quick freshening-up of my skunk mouth, and finally slipped back into Worth’s soft clothes. As I pulled the T-shirt back on, I finally saw the printed design on the front.
It was a tiny fat gnome in a faded rainbow hat with the words Teeny Bit Gay underneath. I smiled and ran my hand over where it lay on my chest. Jonathan Worthington didn’t look like a guy who’d wear this anywhere, much less wear it often enough for the print to have faded out from hundreds of washes. He seemed more likely to sleep in Brooks Brothers pajamas, crisply ironed and buttoned just so.
When I got up to the living area of the ship, I noticed everything in its place and probably as pristine as the day the ship had come out of dry dock. It was a gorgeous vessel with a combination of modern and comfortable furnishings. It didn’t look as untouchable as I would have expected. Instead, there were colorful cushions on the dove-gray sofa, a soft quilt neatly folded in a basket in the corner, and a squat pottery jar in the center of the dining table filled with a messy mix of Caribbean wildflowers.
I ignored it all and headed for the narrow galley, spotting Worth, who stood at the counter slicing some kind of artisan bread on a cutting board. Even his movements looked elegant and refined as if the man himself was an extension of his sleek yacht and all of its high-end finishings.
“Better,” Worth said, after giving me a quick up-down. It was a statement, not a question, and I tried not to apologize for whatever had offended him about my pre-shower self. The instinct to defend myself to this stranger set my teeth on edge, and I breezed past him to the fridge in search of something cold to drink. I refused to be cowed by men who thought they were more important than other people.
As soon as I reached for the handle of the fridge, the scent of something delicious finally breached my annoyance.
Worth had been right. I was starving.
I found a bottle of water in the fridge, but before I could rummage for something to snack on, I heard the ding of a microwave. Worth pulled out a dish of pasta that looked like something from a five-star restaurant. He placed two thick slabs of the bread on the side of the dish and slid it over to me.
“Forks are around here somewhere,” he muttered, pulling open drawers until he found one.
“Oh, fuck me. This is incredible,” I blurted after sneaking a bite right there at the counter. “I haven’t eaten this good since—”
Worth cut me off with a head tilt at his sister. “Since the rock lobsters you dove for, right? Tell me again how that chef cooked them?”
He wasn’t far off from the truth even though he was implying I’d been on some fancy yacht when I’d eaten them instead of the barefoot charter I’d captained for a family from Maine. Maybe he thought students of his beloved captain school had to be rich assholes like himself. Spoiler alert: they didn’t. They could be young idiots who’d saved for years and sold their old truck for the chance to learn from the best.
“Grilled with simple lemon butter, but when you’re eating it straight from the water…” I sighed. “There’s nothing like it. I wish we could dive for some in the BVI this week, but they’re protected right now. If you fish, we can probably do something similar with grouper.”
I moved over to the table and sat down. Natalia was already lounging in a chair with a full glass of white wine. Her face lit up when I mentioned diving.
“I don’t fish, but I love to dive. My friends are desperate to get certified this week.”
“I can certify them,” I said between bites. The pasta was incredible, and I tried not to moan again. “I mean, if you want.”
Worth cleared his throat. If he hoped to remind me I was supposed to be a rich asshole on this trip, he was in for a surprise. I could pretend to be richer than I was, sure, but I wasn’t about to be a jerk about it.