“She’s the general manager for Kipling Resorts here in the islands.”
“Oh. I see,” Lauren drawled as she resumed cleaning. “I was wondering why, when I spoke with her on the phone, she asked me if I had ever considered heading a hotel kitchen.”
Grey laughed and leaned back in her chair. “She’s always looking for new talent, and she was quite impressed with your résumé. So, anyways, back to the point: where in the Midwest are you from?”
Lauren rinsed the soap from the saucepan and turned off the water. “Um, the Minneapolis area,” she answered as she picked up a dishtowel and began drying the pan. “How about you?”
“Newport, Rhode Island.” Grey sipped at her coffee as they fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence now that the easy get-to-know-you type questions had been exhausted. She watched as Lauren finished drying the cookware and put it away, and then leaned back against the counter with her coffee mug in her hands. Grey’s eyes traced Lauren’s long fingers that were wrapped lightly around the red and blue ceramic mug she was holding, and she shook her head as she forced herself to look away. “So, um,” she started, trying to find another avenue of conversation to follow, “do you have a boyfriend back in New York?”
“I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was in the ninth grade.” Lauren smiled as she watched understanding dawn in Grey’s eyes. “Not really my thing, ya know?”
Grey nodded slowly, hating the way her heart seemed to leap into her throat at what Lauren had just revealed. “I, uh…” She looked down at her nearly empty mug and then at the sky outside that was still too dark for her to safely hit the water, and sighed. She needed space. “I should go shower and stuff before the Muellers get up,” she muttered, forcing herself to smile at Lauren as she slid off of her barstool.
“Yeah,” Lauren murmured, her brow furrowing with confusion as she watched Grey leave. The sound of Grey’s cabin door clicking shut echoed quietly through the salon, and Lauren frowned as she turned to look out the window, unable to help but wonder why her being gay would make Grey so flustered.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GREY KNEW THAT she needed to apologize to Lauren for running out on her. Not just because it was the second time she had done so in a relatively short amount of time, but because she had done it right after Lauren had come out to her. She of all people understood how badly her reaction could be taken, and she hated the idea of Lauren thinking that she was neither safe nor welcome aboard theVeritasbecause of who she was.
No matter how much Grey knew that she needed to apologize, Fate seemed determined to keep her from doing so. She had intended to do it when she returned to the salon after showering, but Kim was already awake and chatting amiably with Lauren in the galley, and the day just got busier from there. Breakfast was followed by a quick sail to Leinster Bay for a morning of snorkeling where the boys spent more time running around the boat and jumping off the side into the water than they actually spent in the water itself. Lunch, followed by another short sail, and then clearing-in with British customs took up the middle of the afternoon, and as soon as their paperwork was in order she was back at the helm, sailing toward White Bay to tie-up for the night. Between dinner prep and playing hostess, she never had more than a minute or two alone with Lauren, and she knew thatit was going to take more than a rushed “I’m sorry” to smooth things over.
It was not until much later that night, when the dessert dishes had been cleared and put away and the Muellers were huddled around the port-side deck table playing a spirited game of Go Fish before the boys went to bed, that Grey finally had the opportunity to track Lauren down. Never truly being alone with Lauren should have made it easier for her to deal with the confusing mix of attraction and guilt that bubbled inside her, but for some reason it only left her feeling anxious. It was irrational and completely unexplainable, but the professionally polite distance they had maintained when dealing with each other all day just feltwrong.
She eventually found Lauren sitting on the trampolines at the bow of the boat, and she took a deep breath to steel her resolve before she called out to her. “I’m sorry.”
The words were soft, the voice unmistakable, and Lauren’s gaze was cautious as she looked up at Grey, who was holding a tumbler of a sable-colored alcohol out for her. It was clearly meant to be an olive branch, and she sighed as she reached out and took it. She was no closer to understanding why Grey had run out on her earlier, but if Grey was willing to try and talk about it, she was more than willing to listen. “Thanks. What is it?”
Grey lowered herself onto the trampoline beside Lauren, and sighed as she lifted her eyes to the stars that shone brightly against the inky backdrop of the night sky. “Scotch. This is definitely a scotch kind of conversation.”
Lauren sipped at her drink. It was smooth, with an unmistakable toffee flavor that was layered with citrus, cinnamon, and something else Lauren couldn’t quite identify, and she hummed approvingly as she swallowed. “What’s the label on this?”
“Auchentoshan, Three Wood. It’s a distillery in the Scottish lowlands.” Grey took a generous swallow, not bothering to savorthe taste of the alcohol, just using it as a numbing balm for the wounds she was about to rip open. “I’m sorry.”
“You said that.” Lauren pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins, the tumbler in her right hand dangling loosely from her fingertips.
“Well, I mean it.” Grey took another drink, smaller this time, and turned to look at Lauren, who was regarding her with an expectant look, one thin brow arched questioningly as she waited for her to continue. “I was an ass.”
“Yeah, well,” Lauren murmured with a small shake of her head, “I don’t know if I’d go quite that far.”
“I would.”
The dejection in Grey’s tone made Lauren stop and look at her. The circles under Grey’s eyes were impossible to miss, even in the low light, and the resigned curve of her shoulders signaled utter defeat. Lauren sighed and leaned forward just far enough to catch Grey’s eye. “Hey. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Grey shook her head. “I just…it wasn’t because you told me you were into women.”
Lauren chuckled wryly and shot Grey a knowing look. “I would hope not. That would be pretty hypocritical of you, don’t you think?”
“How…?”
“I was at Jack’s on Friday night.” Lauren nodded as she watched understanding dawn in Grey’s expression. “I watched you pick up that blonde. She was pretty.”
“She was a distraction,” Grey muttered as she looked back up at the stars. “They’re always just a distraction.”
Lauren sighed and took another sip of her drink as the hollowness of Grey’s voice melted away any lingering frustration she might have felt toward her. There was obviously more to Grey’s story—a painful reason that Grey’s eyes looked so haunted whenever she caught her staring. Lauren had spent the day wishingfor some kind of an explanation as to why Grey kept dancing around her, becoming friendly and then bolting away as if burned, but she realized that she did not want it. Not like this, anyway. “Look, don’t worry about this morning. We’re good.”
Grey let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through her as she looked into warm hazel eyes that stared unblinkingly back at her. “You serious?”
“Yeah.” Lauren nodded.
