“Sure, thank you for the exceptional introduction to the job,” she mutters, and I come to an abrupt halt before I turn and march back up to her, standing directly in front of her, just millimeters of air between us.
“Listen to me, and listen closely. You’re here because Hunter took pity on you. God knows why. Maybe he wants to get into those ridiculous blue overalls too, but don’t think for a second I’m as idiotic as he and Nash are. You’re here to work and work only. If you can’t do the work, you’re useless to me. Don’t forget I’m your fucking boss, so do your job and treat me with respect, or you can turn and walk out of here rightnow.”
“Oh, you mean the same amount of respect you’re treating me with?” Her face is stern, but tears run down her cheeks, making her look like an angry child.
I laugh and turn to walk away. Over my shoulder, I tell her, “I want that boat on the water by tomorrow, or you don’t have to come back.”
TWENTY
“Fucking finally,”I mutter under my breath when I close the lid to the maintenance hatch and make my way back down to the ground. This time, I secured the hatch open thoroughly before setting foot into the dark, small space.
I’ve been at this repair for hours. I’m hungry and starting to shake from exhaustion, but determination courses through my veins as I refuse to take a break, hell-bent on finishing the job before I have to get to the restaurant for my shift.
I’ve dismantled the motor, identified the issue, and managed to fix it—or at least, that’s what I hope. The problem was a faulty fuel injector. It was clogged with debris, causing the engine to misfire and sputter. I meticulously cleaned it, ensuring no remnants of dirt or grime were left behind. With trembling hands, I put everything back together, praying I got it right.
Now, the boat sits before me, and here’s where I hit a wall. I can’t be certain that the repair is successful until the motor runs in its natural habitat—the water. But how the hell do I get this massive boat back in? I guess it’s about forty feet long, like the other two that are left and right of it.
Frustration builds within me as I stand there, pondering my next move. I can sense North’s eyes on me, even though I refuseto look up and confirm he’s watching how I’m failing. I don’t need his disapproving gaze weighing me down further.
The boat is secured with ropes, but I have no idea if it would descend the railway smoothly if I released it. I head over to the ropes and assess them. One rope hangs from the ceiling, seemingly the one used to pull the boat up the rails and out of the water.If I can lower it slowly…It’s a risky move, but it seems like the only option.
Doubt creeps in.I could mess this up badly.
I mumble a few curses under my breath, cursing the situation, cursing North and cursing myself for taking on this job. Taking a deep breath, I release the ropes holding the boat in place from both sides before I move to the front, where the largest rope is secured—the one I’ll have to let go of slowly to lower the boat. I wrap the rope around my waist, place one foot against the front fence where the ropes are secured, and carefully open the knot.
As soon as the rope is free, the tension intensifies, and I have to use my entire body weight to lean against it, my arms straining. The boat creaks and stutters before it starts moving backward down the rail ramp. Tears of exhaustion and relief well up in my eyes just as there’s a loud screeching sound, and the tension on the rope increases drastically. I feel myself getting lifted off the ground and fear I’ll be splattered on the roof and the boat will crash down the rails when a strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me down. At the same time, a hand grips the rope just above mine, helping to ease the tension.
Nash mutters, “I’ve got you,” before he whistles at an ear-shattering volume and yells behind us, “We need some help here!” Some guys rush in, grabbing and pulling the ropes I just released, relieving the tension on the rope we’re holding. Nash sets me down before he takes the rope with both hands and, with the help of another fisherman, secures it back to the fence.
My heart beats nearly out of my chest. I’m panting and feel like my head is red from the effort and embarrassment. Nash laughs as he turns and steps back up to me. “What was the plan here, pretty girl? There are easier ways to get swept off your feet if you’re after the feeling.”
Fuck, this is so damn embarrassing.
I bite my lip and explain between clenched teeth, “I was done with the repair and wanted to get it on the water to check if it’s working properly.”
He looks at me with wide, unbelieving eyes. “You wanted to water that boat on your own?”
I cross my arms over my chest, feeling stupid, and, of course, my vision gets blurry again.
Get a fucking grip, Sloan.
I can’t cry in front of all these men. It’s bad enough that I cried again in front of North for the second time earlier.
“Hey, I’m gonna check if it’s working, okay?” he reassures me, nudging my chin up with his finger so I have to look into his eyes. “I’m sure you did good.” He grins at me before he yells to the men around us, “All right, guys, let’s get that baby back where it belongs!”
I watch as six men work together to get the boat down the rails, two on each side holding the ropes to guide it, and Nash and another guy are controlling the rope I just had in my hand, letting the boat down in a controlled, slow manner.
“Well, that was fucking dumb of me,” I mutter to myself.
“True,” Saylor says from beside me, making me flinch slightly. I’m about to tell him off when I remember that there are people around us, and I sure as hell am not going to yell into thin air, so I frown with my arms crossed over my chest while watching the guys get the boat in the water. “Hey, don’t be such a grump. When I got here with Nash, you were already doing your best Spider-Man impression.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip.
That little shit.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that, Boo. I bet it was pretty scary and got your heart racing.”
I give him my best side eye.What is he…
