Joe put down the platter and moved toward Brad. Keeping his grip on Stephen's arm, he laid his other calming hand on Brad’s shoulder. “I can get him off the boat, boss, don’t worry.”
“Not just him, big guy.” Brad stumbled and Joe gripped tighter to steady him. “Something’s going on. They both of them have spent all night trying to get me drunk and out of it so they could take advantage of me. Myron started giving that little slut drinks, too, and look how she took to him.” He threw a hand in the air, gesturing outside.
Ginny had jumped off the table and was now standing behind Myron, pressing her hips against him and waving her arms with the music, as he held Maureen tightly in front of him. Ginny looked determined, Myron looked like a pig in you know what, and Maureen looked out of it. She had a serene smile on her face and was swaying to the beat, but her eyes were closed. It looked more like Myron was holding her up than holding her close.
Stephen pulled against Joe's grip, but recognized it as futile. He turned his attention back to Brad, who looked equally out of it. “We can’t kick them all off of the boat, Brad. Ginny is an employee here and Maureen is your guest—you invited her.”
Brad rounded on him, revitalized by a burst of anger. “Yeah, well, Ginny is fired! As for Doreen, I don’t even know the bitch! I should never have invited her before I checked out how she knew Tod. She’s obviously a plant, and they are all trying to steal my clients.”
Stephen looked at Joe, confused. Brad didn’t even know Maureen? Maureen was his girlfriend, though, wasn’t she? Maybe she wasn’t. Stephen thought back to the last few days on the boat. The only time he had ever seen Maureen in Brad’s presence, she’d acted very strangely and definitely not herself. He had never seen them touch or anything. Was she a plant? Was she involved somehow in Brad’s circle like Don had inferred?
“She’s not a plant, boss. That girl’s a nice girl.” Joe gave Brad a not-so-gentle push toward the hallway. “You go to bed now. We’ll take care of your guests.”
Brad stumbled toward his cabin and Stephen looked at Joe. “What’s going on? Do you know?”
“I know there are two pretty girls out there who have had too much to drink and that there is one unwelcome guest. Let’s go take care of that.”
“You can’t kick me off this boat!” Myron struggled under Joe’s strong grip as Stephen held tightly to the smiling Maureen. Ginny stood at the side, looking flummoxed at the sudden silence. Stephen had turned the music off and the crowd had started to disperse. The show was over. “You know me, Joe. Why do you have to be such a ball-buster?”
“Joe, you know this guy?”
He nodded to Stephen. “He’s been on the yacht before.”
“I am a good friend of Lauren’s, and this is her boat—not that idiot, Brad’s. I'm calling Lauren and telling her you kicked me off.”
Stephen felt a flare of anger and moved toward the struggling Myron. It was only his need to keep a grip on the quickly fading Maureen that stopped him from throwing a punch. “Yeah, well, guess what? On this trip, I am first mate and I am making the decisions. You’re outta here. Go ahead and call Lauren if you want. Just get off of this boat.”
“I’m going, too!” Ginny danced up beside him and made her way toward the ramp. “I’ll come, Myron. You’re much more fun than this bunch, anyway.”
Joe grabbed Ginny’s arm as she danced past him. “To bed, young lady. You are off to bed. You know why.”
Ginny stamped her foot as though she were five years old and gave her hair one final toss. “Fine,” she said, “but this job sucks!” She stormed inside just as Joe gave Myron a final shove down the stairs. He stumbled off toward the parking lot.
Stephen turned his full attention to Maureen. Her flush had disappeared and she was a deathly pale. She looked as though she was in a restful sleep, but Stephen clocked all of the empty scotch bottles lying around and realized she wasn’t just tired.
“Come on, Joe, help me get her inside.” Joe easily lifted her small frame into his arms. “To my cabin, okay? You’d better start telling me what you know about this girl that I don't.”
39
Consequences
Her head was pounding, her mouth was dry as a bone, and she wanted to sleep. Maureen couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so tired. All she wanted to do was sleep, but this icy, wet thing was rubbing at her face. Was it a fish? Had she fallen off the boat? No, if she had fallen off the boat, she would be dead—drowned. She tried to check the presence of the rest of her limbs, but she couldn’t move her arms. Hmm. Maybe she was dead.
The icy, wet thing came back, and she heard someone whispering her name. It was a nice voice. She couldn't remember whose voice it was, but she remembered the feelings that it gave her, and she smiled in her sleep. “Maureen? Come on, Maureen! Joe, fetch more ice, will you? I need another towel—I’m getting my bed soaked. Maureen?”
It was Stephen. The yummy tummy feelings expanded, filling her with warmth and making her sleepier. What was Stephen doing here? Didn't he just tell her he was going to stay away? She was glad he was back here, wherever here was.
“Get the fish away. I’m too sleepy. Did I fall over?”
“No, you didn’t fall over, Maureen. You’re safe with us, but you have to wake up. The party's over.”
The party? Oh, the party. Scotch. She could smell it. It was in her mouth, on her face, and oozing from her skin. “I drank too much scotch.”
There was a soft laugh edged with anxiety from beside her, and the wet fish was on her face again. “I need you to open your eyes, Maureen. It’s too dangerous to sleep, okay? You’ve had too much to drink.”
Maureen opened her eyes and saw Stephen looking down at her. He was smiling, but she could see a well of concern in his eyes. Joe appeared over his shoulder and handed him a bowl and a towel. “You have to wake up, Mummee. No sleeping for you tonight.”
She sat up slowly and was overcome by a wave of nausea. She shot Stephen a panicked look and he quickly scooped her into his arms. “Out of the way, Joe.” He took a few large strides across the cabin and deposited her in front of the toilet in a huge bathroom.
She felt an incredible sense of relief before the scotch started its hurried exit from her stomach. It was awful. She heaved until she was exhausted, and Stephen stayed beside her, holding back her sweaty curls and gently rubbing the flat of his palm up and down her back.
“It’s okay, Maureen. It’s okay. This will make you feel better. Just let it out.”
She finally felt safe enough to lift her head, and Joe was next to her with a soft cloth, wiping her mouth. He patted at her face with another cold, wet cloth and she realized this was the fish she had felt earlier. This time, though, it didn't remind her of a fish; instead, it felt like Heaven.
“Thanks, guys,” she said. “I'm so sorry. I'm so embarrassed.” She tried to remember how she had ended up in her cabin. She looked around, trying to jog her memory, and realized this cabin wasn’t hers. She didn’t think it could be possible, but this cabin was even bigger and fancier than hers. Oh no—was she in Brad’s cabin? Had she gone to Brad’s cabin with him and these guys were rescuing her? This couldn’t get much worse.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in my cabin, Maureen," Stephen said, taking the cloth from Joe's hands and smoothing her sticky bangs off her forehead. You can’t be alone right now—it’s too dangerous. You might have alcohol poisoning.”
“Why do you have such a nice cabin? Do the crewmembers have better cabins than the guests?” She heard Joe laughing in the background and Stephen smiled softly at her.
“No, the crew lives in the crew quarters, but Don wanted to make sure I enjoyed my vacation. He assigned this cabin to me, but don’t tell anyone. Not even Brad knows how nice it is.”
“I think I need to lie down.”
“Of course you do, Mummee.” Joe moved to pick her up, but Stephen stopped him.
“I’ve got it, Joe. I can get her.”
Stephen lifted her back to the bed and gently placed her in a sitting position. She moved to lie down and close her eyes, but Stephen put his hand on her arm. “No you don’t. No lying down for a while until I know you are okay. Sleeping is too risky right now.” Stephen turned to Joe. “I can handle it from here. Thanks for helping. You can go to bed; I'll call you if I need you.”
Joe nodded. “Night, Miss Stockton. You take care, now.” He ducked his head through the cabin door and shut it quietly behind him.
Maureen looked down at her watch and was surprised to see it was 10:00 pm. The last thing she remembered, she was sitting on the deck in the bright sunshine with a drink in her hand.
“What happened, Stephen?” He moved to the opposite side of the bed and pulled himself to a sitting position beside her.
“You’ve been sleeping,” he said. “Well, technically you were unconscious. We were about to take you to Doctor’s Hospital when you woke up.”
Maureen was mortified. This vacation was turning into a complete failure. Stephen pulled the bowl of ice from the nightstand beside him, dipped in a fresh cloth, and passed it to her. She laid it across her face and closed her eyes.
“No sleeping," Stephen said. "Why didn’t you tell me Brad wasn’t your boyfriend?”
“I did.”
“No, you definitely did not, and you spoke about him as though he was.”
“I did tell you that first day on the ride from the airport. You were too grumpy to hear it, I suppose. Where is he? Is he mad?”
Stephen laughed, "I wouldn't worry about his feelings right now, Maureen. You aren't exactly on his friend's list right now. He's sleeping it off in his cabin. He thinks the whole world is against him and that you might be a ringleader.” He tucked a towel around her lap to catch the drips from her icy washcloth. “You didn’t answer my second question. Why did you talk about him as though he was?”
“Why would I be against him? Also, you didn’t ask that—you made a statement.” She smiled at him weakly. “The answer is that I was supposed to want him to be. I’m assuming Joe filled you in on what a loser I am and on why I’m here?”
Stephen ignored her first question and answered the second.
“Yep, he did, except he didn’t say you were a loser—he said you're a wonderful girl—and then he spent another hour berating me for not looking after you properly. I’m sorry I wasn’t nicer to you. I have issues.”
“You were very nice to me, Stephen. I think I’m just a difficult person to be nice to. I guess I give out walk-all-over-me vibes.”
Stephen laughed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Maureen, but those weren’t the vibes I was getting. My problem is that I don’t think you are difficult at all. I think you're so comfortable to be around, and I think you're kind and strong and extremely attractive.”
Maureen blushed and spread the washcloth over her face. “Yeah, I’m a right pukey charmer.” They sat quietly for a few minutes until Maureen spoke, her voice muffled by the wet washcloth. “So, what are your issues?”
“You don’t want to know. The story’s too sad, and you’ll find out I’m an idiot.”
“Try me. I’m guessing you aren’t going to let me go back to sleep, yet, so we have time.”
She felt the bed shifting as Stephen moved closer and took the wet washcloth from her face. “Fine, but I’m not having a conversation with a mummy. Why do you always try to hide your blushing?”
“Excuse me,” she said, lifting the sheet to dry off her wet face, “but I believe I was first in requesting deep and humiliating insights into a damaged soul. Out with it.”
Stephen settled back into the pillows. “Okay, you asked for it.” He pulled his hand across his face, comically stretching his features before they sprang back to their regular handsome ruggedness. He looked tired, and Maureen felt a stab of guilt. He was going to be up a while longer and it was all her fault. “I was married once.”
He’d gone quiet, so she decided to prompt him.
“Lulu, right?” she asked softly.
“Yeah, Lulu.” He gave a deep sigh. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” Maureen nodded. “I was just out of college, working on a startup company with my college roommate. We were broke—like, sleeping on friend's floors and sometimes even under our desks in another friend's garage. I had this idea for an app, though, Juju Beans. You’ve probably heard of it?”
Maureen’s mouth dropped open. “You’re the inventor of Juju Beans?”
“Well, me and my partner are, yeah. We became pretty big in the app world fast, but we were young, you know, and we didn’t know what we were doing.” He reached over to his nightstand and opened the bottom cabinet to reveal a tiny fridge. He pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to Maureen, before taking one for himself. He sipped it slowly. “At the time, the business stuff was great. I mean, I come from a small town in Michigan, so these parties and these people," he paused, "I don't know... it was a new world to me. That’s when my sister met this guy, Alden Franklin. He was rich as hell—like, richer than you think rich people could be. It was at their wedding that I met Lulu.” He sipped his water again and hesitated.
Maureen noticed his hand on the covers between them, and before she thought about it, she put her hand over his. There was a jolt of electricity between them, and he started and turned to look at her. She blushed. “Sorry.” She pulled her hand back. “I was trying to encourage you. Go on.”
“You have a beautiful blush.” She felt the giveaway rush of heat yet again. If only she could control it. He reached over and lifted her face so her eyes met his. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.” He moved his hand from her chin and turned back to face the empty cabin, as though he was watching his past roll out before his eyes like a film. “She was perfect,” he said. “At least, I thought she was. She was everything I imagined the perfect girl would be: beautiful, rich, stylish, social, and smart. I know you know how this turns out, so I already feel like an idiot.”
This time, Maureen grabbed his hand and didn’t let it go. “Go on,” she said. “I’d like to understand.”
“I doted on her. Every day, I thanked my lucky stars that a girl like her would choose a guy like me. I started to notice things, then.”
“What kind of things?”
“Well, she wasn’t very nice to waiters. I know that sounds stupid, but I waited tables to pay for college and it's a tough job, you know?” Maureen nodded. “She was rude to waiters, and then I started noticing that she was rude to a lot of people. I brought it up once and she said I was over-reacting. She said I had better learn how to treat staff, if I was going to be married to her. See, her daddy is rich and she stands to inherit a lot of money. I began to see how important it all was to her.”
Stephen went quiet. “So, what happened?” Maureen prompted.
“Well, it turns out I was her next target. She started to express disappointment with the way my business was going. We are doing fine now, but we were growing, you know? Every business struggles as it grows. She started to make snide comments when she thought I wasn’t listening. I complained to my partner, Paul, and he ripped me a new one—told me how lucky I was to have such an amazing wife and that I had to get over being so sensitive and just look after her. So, I did; I kept treating her the way I thought a man should treat his wife. I gave her everything, and she threw it away.”
“You caught her.”
“In bed with Paul. It explains why he was so defensive.”
Maureen squeezed his hand tighter. The story sucked. She suddenly felt awful for how she had been moping around. Sure, she’d had a few tough relationships, but even Nick hadn’t been as heartbreaking as Lulu.
“So, I just made myself disappear. Paul and I have continued the business—there was no sensible way for us to split it while we were dealing with the success of Juju Bean—but I work from home. I don’t go out much. I don’t really trust people. It's been two years, but I can’t seem to get out of the funk. Don go
t fed up with my avoidance strategy and came out to California to rescue me. This whole trip was his idea. I just told Paul I was taking off for a while, and I think he was relieved to have me out of there. He married Lulu, you know. They’re married now.”
Maureen squeezed Stephen’s hand again. She ignored a wave of nausea and turned to her side, so she could look him full in the face.
“I’m sorry, Stephen. I am so sorry you had to go through all of that. Not all women are like that, I promise. There are women out there who would be thrilled to have a husband as amazing as you. You are so fun to be with and so caring and kind, even when you are grumpy.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back.
He was looking at her so intently that she felt a shiver run through her. God, he was good-looking. She couldn’t stand the thought of him being sad because of such a horrible woman. This Lulu chick hadn’t deserved him.
“You have to know there are women out there who are better than her—great women who would give back to you everything you gave to them and even more.”
He smiled at her softly and moved his free hand to cover their joined ones. “I know there are, Maureen. There are women out there who are magnificent.”
Maureen opened her eyes and groaned loudly. Her brain was pulsing with her heartbeat, whacking inside her skull with every pulse. Her throat was so dry that she couldn’t swallow, and she found a fresh bottle of water on the nightstand next to her, still cold and covered in condensation. It almost slipped from her hand as she frantically tried to bring it to her parched lips.
As she was swallowing greedily, Stephen emerged from the bathroom, dressed and showered. He looked like the all-American sailing guy: white polo, pressed khaki pants, and boat shoes.
“Morning, sleepy head.”
“What time is it?” she asked, surprised that her voice actually worked when it felt like the sides of her throat were sticking together.
Unstoppable: A Sweet Romance (Jersey Girls Book 2) Page 15
