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She shoots daggers at me over her shoulder. “Are you planning to stop me?”

I hold up both hands, palms out, in surrender. “No, but it’s raining really hard, and the boards get slippery. It’s like walking on a sheet of ice.” A charged beat passes, and I gentle my voice. “Please stay. Just until it stops raining.” I tilt my head toward the table. “You’re going to waste a perfectly good shot of Woodford if you leave now.”

She peers through the glass now sheeted with rain, huffs, and storms back to the settee. I take it as a win, and one corner of my mouth hitches up in a semblance of a smile. She promptly sits and starts unwinding her wet braid. When she shakes her hair loose, it’s like a wild, golden cloud around her head. The soft light adds a golden glow to her porcelain skin, and I’m mesmerized for a beat.

We sip in silence. “What were you doing with those kids?” she ventures.

I shrug. “Showing them around. Teaching them about charts and knots and weather. Sailor stuff.”

“Are they all dealing with some kind of disability?”

I nod.

“So this is your boat?”

“Mostly,” I dodge.

She doesn’t push for more, thank fuck. I have no idea what I’d say if she did.

It’s my turn for a question. “So you woke up this morning and decided to head toward the ocean to … recharge?”

“Yep.” She pops the P. That’s it. That’s all she’s got for me. Then again, I wasn’t too verbose with my answers either.

“Are you on vacation?” I press.

“Leave of absence.”

Hey, at least I got three words out of her this time. This conversation is awkward on steroids. I stare out the window, looking for any sign the rain is going to let up. The universe doesn’t like me today. It seems to come down harder.

I suddenly remember I forgot to work out Friday’s schedule with Peggy, and I sit back, frustrated. But Peggy and I have this weird ESP connection going, and my phone rings with her face on my screen.

I answer. “Hey. I forgot to ask you about Friday.”

“Yes, you did, but the kids didn’t. Does ten work?”

“Yup. Same five kids?”

“And maybe I can wrangle a parent or two this time, if they’ve got the time off.”

“Absolutely. The more, the merrier. If it’s a nice day, we’ll take her out and I’ll put them to work. Not the kids—they’re here to enjoy. I was talking about putting the parents to work.”

“Doing what? Swabbing the deck? Arrrh, Captain Colby.”

I laugh. “You know pirates didn’t actually say ‘arrrh,’ right?”

We end the call, and when I look up, soft green eyes are drilling into me. Instead of furious flames burning there, though, curiosity dances in their depths. Things are looking up.

Chapter 6

Who Is This Man?

Jackie

Colby Chase is unraveling my preconceived notions about him. Some of them anyway. He’s still a snarky asshole, but only to me in this scenario, apparently.

Those kids looked at him like he was a god, all adoring puppy eyes. And I have to admit, he was really sweet with them. Kind. Patient. Fun.

Studying him, I take another sip of the hot Earl Grey and let the bourbon warm me from the inside out as it slides into my stomach. Between his square jaw dusted with a few days’ worth of stubble and his damp, tousled hair, he’s got this ruggedly handsome thing going on. Maybe it’s because we’re on a boat and the kids called him “Captain Colby.”