Ice Cold Boss (A Paradise Shores Standalone Book 2)
Page 18
“I’m not. And there’s nothing wrong with dwarfs.”
His smile doesn’t falter. “Never said there was, shorty. I have to say, I’m partial to your height.”
My hands find his forearms under the surface, holding on, and they tense like steel bands under my grip. There are little water droplets in his eyelashes.
“I’m on to you, you know.”
“You are?”
“Yes. I’m your date to ensure we get more work done on the project, and I accept that reasoning. But it’s not the only reason.” I tilt my head, regarding him under my lashes. “Am I moral support? Was that the reason yesterday, with your dad?”
“No. I didn’t bring you as my bodyguard, but you did an extraordinary job at it nonetheless. If I ever need one, you’ll be my first call.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he says, his voice growing patient. “I’ve been disagreeing with my dad since the day I was born. I came early, and he didn’t make it to the hospital in time. We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”
“He’s an idiot, then.”
Henry’s smile widens. “He’s difficult,” he qualifies. “Sometimes a complete asshole. But he taught me how to sail, how to work hard. How to build stuff. And if you ask any of my siblings, they’ll be the first to tell you I’m the favorite.”
“I imagine that wasn’t always easy.”
“Mhm,” he says. “No, I suppose it wasn’t.”
The mood has turned serious, and I smile again, wanting to see his own in response. It’s become addicting, drawing out those rare smiles of his. “So if I’m not here for moral reasons… why?”
He chuckles, and the hands on my waist tighten. “You won’t take my answer at face value, will you?”
“No. It’s clearly not because I’m inconvenient, since you didn’t want to sleep with me yesterday. I was determined not to mention it, but here I am, bringing it up.”
He smiles crookedly, and my heart does a pathetic little dance in my chest. “That’s what you thought? Faye, I wanted to. I’ve never wanted anything more.”
“Hmm. Really?”
“Oh yes.” He ducks his head, pressing a salty kiss to my lips. I cling to him fiercely, and he pulls me closer, our bodies molded together under the surface.
“I could kiss you forever,” he murmurs, pushing my mess of wet hair back, “but I know that I shouldn’t.”
“Hmm. You’re good at not doing things you want to do.”
He laughs. “Yes. You asked me for my workout routine, Faye, but it’s this. It’s me doing things I don’t want to do, day after day.”
I slide my hands up his shoulder, coming to rest around his neck. “That’s not a very fun way to live.”
“No, but it gets things done.” He releases me and flips on his back, starting a slow paddle toward the boat. “It also helps keep me from making a mistake.”
Because sleeping together would be a mistake. It’s something I already know, but I’ve desperately been trying to forget.
When we finally climb on board the Frida, I stretch out on deck. The sun is hot and my bikini small—it shouldn’t take long to dry. Next to me, Henry is wringing out his hair with a towel, but he stops and looks me over. With my sunglasses down, it’s easy to pretend I don’t see his heated perusal.
“I should never have hired you,” he mutters, and something dark flips in my stomach. Yes, I think, even though that would mean my career was over. You shouldn’t have.
On our way back, Henry shows me how to hoist the main sail. He teaches me how to tie a clove hitch knot with strong, assured hands. And then he cuts the engine, and we’re cleaving the water silently, just us and the waves and the sun. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything better.
Henry sits next to me on the helm. “You like it?”
“Sailing?”
“Yes.”
I can tell my answer is important to him, that he’s sharing something he loves with me. “Yes. It’s peaceful. I feel like it’s just us and the ocean, the coves, nature… and there are no rules.”
“Not many,” Henry says. “We do have to follow the laws of the sea.”
“Why do you like it?”
“Sailing?”
“Yeah.”
He reaches over to flick a strand of hair back from my shoulder. Its drying in large waves, the salt bringing out a few curls. His eyes, normally reserved, are green pools of emotion.
“My mind goes quiet when I’m at sea,” he says. “There are no goals or plans. Everything about shore life fades away, and there’s just stillness. We’ve been doing this for millennia, you know.”
“Sailing?”
“Yes. A sailor from two thousand years ago could command this vessel just fine.”
“I’ve never thought about it that way.”
His small smile is back, a curve of his lips. My heart, already in danger of falling entirely for him, does a little flip. “I’m glad I could share it with you.”
“I’m glad you did, too. Even if you didn’t warn me about the water temperature.”
“And miss out on your reaction? Never.”
We sail back in comfortable silence, the sun beating down on us, the waves lulling me into a state of bliss. Under his guidance, I help steer, and he laughingly calls me captain. The marina eventually comes back into view and we have to roll down the main sail. I feel a pang of sadness when he turns on the motor again and the beautiful silence is replaced by the dull sound of it churning. He sees it in my eyes and smiles.
“You get it,” he says. “I knew you would, you know.”
We anchor along the dock and he shows me yet another knot, this time to secure the boat against the constant rocking of the waves.
“Let’s stay here for a bit,” I say on impulse. “At the dock. We don’t have to go back yet, do we?”
Henry doesn’t protest, sitting down on the weathered dock. “Not yet.”
We bask in the late afternoon sunshine and the sound of waves. It’s almost like being at sea, without the constant to-do-lists and things to accomplish.
Henry has closed his eyes, leaning back on the dock, and I take the opportunity to study him.
He’s a hardass, an impossible man, an enigma in expensive suits. And he’s a man, sitting next me in an old sailor’s sweater and a faint smile on his face. His skin has already begun to tan from the day outside, with the ease of skin that’s long been exposed to the sun. I can imagine his younger self clearly, a carefree smile against tan skin and thick brown hair. Green eyes alight with laughter. He’s so handsome, so beautifully out of reach, that I can’t tear my eyes away.
Henry doesn’t open his eyes. “You’re staring at me.”
“No, I’m not.”
He opens one eye. “Yes, you are. See? I always win.”
“This isn’t a competition.”
He leans back on his hands, eyes closed again. “Everything is a competition.”
Is it?
For so long I’ve been of the same mindset. I’ve met him step by step and game for game. I’ve loved our witty battles, to stretch my mental legs with him. It’s felt like foreplay, layered with deeper meaning.
I always win. He had told me that himself, once. When had I forgotten that that included me? He admitted to wanting to sleep with me, but not to losing any points in our imaginary game. Is that really why he stopped it last night?
Henry sighs and stretches, starting to get up. “Unfortunately, we have plans tonight.”
“Ah, yes. Our mini bachelor and bachelorette parties.”
“Yes. I’m sorry I have to surrender you to my sister like that.”
“I’m not. I like Lily. Besides, I’ll see you at the house later.”
His eyes glitter, and something in my stomach clenches tight. It might be a game to him, but my attraction feels real—more real than it has in a long, long time.
“You sure will.”
22
Faye
Lily smiles when she sees me. “Faye, come on in! Did you get here okay?”
I laugh. “Yes, although I had to stop to ask for directions.”
“You look tan. Did you sail today?”
“Yes,” I say, smoothing a hand over my hair. I’d showered, and didn’t think I’d gotten a lot of sun.
She sees my confusion and shoots me an apologetic smile. “Henry mentioned it yesterday. What did you think?”
“I loved it,” I say. “Henry told me it’s practically the family pastime.”
“Yeah, you could say that. We were taught to tie knots before we could walk. Was he a good teacher?”
“Yeah, he was.”
“Good. He taught most of us, when Dad was away.” She smiles at me again, and I’m hit with a small pang of guilt. She’s being so nice to me—his whole family is!—and I’m here under false pretenses. Here to work. “Come in, come in. I want you to meet some of my friends.”
I’m ushered through a beautiful hallway and into a living room that belongs in a catalogue. The interior design is homey, with linen furnishings and a sheepskin rug. There’s a giant fireplace.
“This place is gorgeous, Lily. Stunning.”
“Thank you. Would you mind saying that again tomorrow when my fiancé can hear you? We’ve spent so long renovating this place, and I think he got a bit sick with all my decorating toward the end.”
“No, he didn’t!” a girl calls. “He’d never deny you anything, the sucker.”
A group of women are sitting around a dining-room table, glasses in hands. Lily makes the introductions, calling me Henry’s girl.
“We’re playing He Said, She Said,” says a girl with a pixie cut. “Come, join. Do you want a glass of champagne?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’m Jamie,” she says. “We’re not allowed to say the word bride or wedding, by the way,” she whispers in an aside. “If you do, you have to do a shot.”
“If you want to,” Lily points out. “We’re not here to get drunk tonight.”
“You’re right. Let’s keep it tame,” Jamie says, but she shakes her head at me in disapproval. “God forbid we go a bit wild. Anyway, you’re Henry’s date?”
“Yes.”
She leans closer, eyes glittering with curiosity. “How is it, dating him?”
“How do you mean?”
She hands me a glass of champagne. “He was always so reserved growing up. Would tell you off for eating too much sugar, you know.”
I laugh at that. “I can actually imagine him doing that. You spent a lot of time with Lily growing up?”
“Best friends.” She nods. “But back to Henry in a relationship. I can see that you’re uncomfortable, and I’m sorry about that, but I just have so many questions. I’ve also had to do two shots already. When in doubt, blame it on alcohol. Very adult of me, I know.”
“Not uncomfortable, per se. It’s just that we’re not really in an official relationship. We’re seeing each other, it’s early days, and he asked me here as his date.”
There’s a smile in her eyes. “Trust me on this—Henry Marchand doesn’t do anything casually.”
“Faye,” Lily calls out. “Is Jamie pestering you?”
Jamie blinks. “Me? I’d never.”
We all laugh, even though her words feel branded in my mind, spinning around and around. Henry Marchand doesn’t do anything casually.
The evening is filled with games and drinks and laughs. The other girls had prepared questions for Lily to answer, embarrassing ones about her relationship with Hayden. When she answers a few, her cheeks flushed, I’m happy that her brothers aren’t here to hear it.
We have to recount our favorite memory with the bride to be, going around the table, and she shoots me an apologetic smile when it’s my turn.
“I’m sorry, Faye. We just met.”
“Don’t be. I have a favorite memory—when you embarrassed Henry into blushing. I’ve never seen that before. To you, Lily.” I raise my glass in a toast.
She grins at me. “To making more memories.”
By the end, I’m a little bit tipsy, my cheeks heated with excitement and laughter. Just like the dinner last night, this hasn’t been difficult at all. It’s almost surprising how naturally this is unfolding.
I should tell Henry that, that I’m having fun. He’s probably wondering how his sister is doing. I excuse myself and get my phone out of my bag. There’s a message waiting for me, sent over an hour ago.
Henry Marchand: Hope you’re enjoying tonight. Don’t feel any pressure to stay on mine or Lily’s account. She’d understand.
Of course he’d texted me first. It was completely in character.
Faye Alvarez: So you’re the only one allowed to paint the town tonight? I’m enjoying myself very much, thank you. Lily is lovely.
I wait with bated breath, and just a few seconds later, the dots appear that indicate he’s typing.
Henry Marchand: I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be happy or confused by your sudden friendship with my sister. Do you have a new favorite Marchand?
Faye Alvarez: Intimidated. You’re supposed to feel intimidated.
Henry Marchand: I’ll just have to raise my game then. This won’t stand.
Faye Alvarez: Competitive much?
Henry Marchand: To my very core, Faye. Planning on staying there late?
Faye Alvarez: When does your thing end? What are you doing, by the way? Strip club?
Henry Marchand: I asked first. And no, there are no strip clubs in Paradise Shores, last time I checked. Do you know a good one?
Faye Alvarez: I’ll be home around midnight, I think. Lily wants to try to get some sleep before tomorrow.
Henry Marchand: Good. We’ll get Hayden in bed around then too.
I smile at the phone. I have no clue what we are, what’s happening, why I’m really here. And for the first time in my life, maybe I should just let myself roll with that instead of fighting it. Be more like Henry was at sea. Still and calm.
It’s a quarter to midnight when I finally walk from Lily’s house to the little cottage next door, which is also her house. These people are lovely, despite having some serious privilege.
I unlock the front door. “Hello?”
The cottage is empty, but Henry said he’d be home soon. I put on the kettle to make tea and change into my camisole and silk shorts—thank God Jessie had convinced me to get the set months ago.
I brush my hair out, leaving it long and loose down my back. I’ve noticed how his eyes, even when they’re professional and reserved, stray to my hair like he can’t help himself. Henry arrives not ten minutes later. A taxi stops outside, and then I hear his key in the lock.
He stops in the door. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, his thick hair unusually messy.
“Faye?”
“That’s me.” I take a sip of my tea and tuck my legs underneath me on the couch. “I just got home.”
He tosses the keys on the hallway table. “Did you have a nice time?”
“Yes. Your sister’s friends were really sweet. And a bit crazy, actually. But mostly sweet.”
“Good. I was worried.”
“Worried?”
“Well, letting you off on your own like that. Who knows what they might have told you, or worse, you them.”
I grin at him. “Afraid of me spilling all your New York secrets?”
“Deadly afraid,” he says.
“There’s hot water in the kitchen if you’d like tea.”
“Thank you,” he says, but he doesn’t go there. He sinks into the armchair opposite me instead.
“How was your evening?”
“Wild,” he says. “We took Hayden around Paradise Shores and made
him relive all kinds of memories. Beer was involved. A fair bit of whiskey. He doesn’t drink, but he’s still damn good at getting the rest of us to do so.”
“And not a stripper in sight.”
“Not a single one,” he agrees, running a hand through his hair. “A few of his old buddies from the Navy were there, and after hearing them speak, I think Parker is reevaluating his life choices.”
I chuckle. “But not you?”
“Not tonight, anyway. I’m happy with mine at the moment.” He leans back and looks at me through hooded eyes. His long legs are stretched out before him, arms curled over the armrests.
“Except hiring me, of course,” I point out. “You mentioned earlier today that was a mistake.”
He tips his head toward me. “You heard that?”
“Yeah.”
“It was a mistake,” he says, voice heated. “But I’m not finding myself regretting it.”
Our gazes catch and hold, and something in me tightens at the look in his. He might have turned me down yesterday, but he definitely meant what he said earlier. It wasn’t for lack of want—because that’s clear in his darkened eyes.
I wet my lips. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s the big day.”
“Mmm,” he says. “Showtime.”
Neither of us moves.
“Did you sleep well last night?”
“As well as could be expected, yes. You?”
“All right. The bed is very big. A lot bigger than I have at home, actually.”
“Oh?”
I nod. What are we even talking about?
“Did you have a lot to drink tonight?”
“A bit. Why? Did you?”
His eyes look glazed, but I don’t think it’s with alcohol. “Yes. But I’m not drunk.” He stands, his form towering over me. “Come on. Let’s go to sleep.”
I take his extended hand, the skin warm against mine. Shivers travel up my arm. “Together?”
His fingers grip mine tightly as he leads me through the living room. “God, Faye, you’re really testing the limits of my self-discipline.”
“It seems limitless.”
“I thought so too, before you.” He pauses by my bedroom door, hand still in mine, exactly like we’d been the day before. Only this time, he’s the one who tips my head back. “Only to sleep.”