Sexy Seaman
Paige Steele
Copyright © 2020 by Paige Steele and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Editor: Karen Hrdlicka
Proofreading by: Kellie Montgomery
Proofreading by: Diane from Wicked Tales of Racy Reads
Cover designer: Veronique Poirier, V Designs
Contents
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
About the Cocky Hero World
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other books by Paige Steele
Introduction
Sexy Seaman is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Playboy Pilot.
It's published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling series.
Want to keep up with all of the new releases in Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward's Cocky Hero Club world? Make sure you sign up for the official Cocky Hero Club newsletter for all the latest on our upcoming books:
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Prologue
Reed
As I stand on the flybridge, looking out over the open seas in front of me, I can’t help but to think back twenty years ago when day in and day out I sat at this very dock, watching the boats coming and going with my mom. We’d sit and wait for my dad to come back from working his lunch and dinner cruise. He’d leave every morning at five to make sure things were ready for the guests he’d be hosting that day. Fridays were when I was able to go to the docks and wait for him, with my mom. It was the only day I was able to come because he usually got back too late for me. Since I was only eight, Mom allowed me to stay out until nine when Dad came back because there was no school the next day. To watch him steer the boat in was amazing. He was my hero and I couldn’t wait to see him every night I was able to go. He drove big ships, as I always called them, though my dad used to tell me that they are actually called yachts. Mom said the minute I was born Dad changed his ways of work. He used to often go on excursions that lasted weeks at a time because the money was great. But when I came along, he started doing the daily dinner cruises or full-day outings, which meant he had the other captains who worked for him take over the longer trips. I overheard their conversation one night, Mom told Dad, “His eyes are as big as saucers every time you pull in,” and my Dad replied, “Well, I look for those two blue little globes when I dock.” He was one of a kind.
At thirteen, I’d go on and off the boat, whether it was to help him clean it with his crew or just to hang out with my dad. I learned so much from him. Then at fifteen, he started letting me go on his day trips, often sitting in his captain’s chair while I took in every detail he’d discuss with me. At sixteen, he started letting me steer the boat for a short time, and at seventeen, he was having me give the coordinates to the Coast Guard when he’d radio them in. By eighteen, he was telling me I was a natural but how could I not be, I was practically born and raised on a boat. When I graduated from high school, I walked across the stage at 2:00 p.m. and then started to count down the days until I left for Brown University…thirty-eight days, but who was counting. It wasn’t that I couldn’t wait to get away from my parents or my sister, who had just turned ten, but come on, it was college. It spelled freedom and girls. Lots of girls. I chuckle to myself at how horny I was, even back then. I was and still am the same guy; the difference now is, I don’t have to try at all to have a lady by my side or in my bed. During my first year of college, the ladies made me work for their attention but by sophomore year, it was a completely different story. I was always invited to every party, not only by one but by several ladies. I learned a lot about life during those years.
I earned my bachelor’s in business. During which I also had been studying and training to take my captain’s license too. Between my financial accounting classes and navigation and tidal calculation classes, I was busy nonstop. Don’t get me wrong, I still made time for the ladies on the floors above and below in my dorm. Needless to say, I enjoyed my nights, but my days were spent with my nose in the books. And every break and vacation I had during college I was with my father, getting in my hours needed behind the wheel. I wanted that license as bad, if not worse, than I did at sixteen when I got the one that put me behind the wheel of the used car I had saved up to buy.
My dad turned his yachting business into a billion-dollar company, over the last fifteen plus years. He started it with only one boat and now we have several. He named his company SS Yachts, after his own father, Sawyer, who was a man my father looked up to and my mother’s father, Simon. They both passed away and it was his way of honoring them both. He and my mother struggled in the beginning, but once the company was no longer in the red, showing a good profit, he then bought his second boat; the rest is history as they say. He now owns ten vessels that cost more than most people see in their lifetime. Anyone from high-profiled CEOs to rock stars, as well as pro athletes and movie stars have boarded his boats and he’s sailed to more places than I could count. Once I had my license, my father had allowed me the honor of taking out a few of his smaller yachts for day cruises to help me gain the knowledge of the open seas even more.
About three years ago, I watched as my dad had fallen ill. He was diagnosed with stage 4 prostate cancer. His physicians had pretty much told him to get his affairs in order, that the prognosis wasn’t good. Right after his doctor’s appointment, he pulled me aside and told me he’d be leaving me the entire business. Until my sister graduated college, it only made sense that I’d be the one running the company, he said. He saw the passion in my eyes and knew I had the drive. That night was the first of many sleepless nights. I immediately made the decision that if my sister wanted to, she could come on board in a couple years, once she received her accounting degree. I wanted to see her succeed in her own field. She never wanted to sail but she loved numbers. It was a no-brainer for her and she jumped at the chance. She’d always wanted to join the business one way or another, so it only made sense to offer her to run the money end of it. And I trusted her more than anyone, other than Mom and Dad. I knew my dad would make sure Mom was taken care of too. The same night I found out, I also made a promise to the man above that I would make sure to make him proud and grow his business, as he would have wanted to continue to do.
He held on for almost nine months and fought like hell. It’s been close to two years since his passing. It was a devastation like nothing I’ve ever felt before and nothing I ever want to again. I’ve been running the bus
iness side of SS Yachts, while my sister just started taking over the entire accounting department, right after she graduated from Brown University herself. She works side by side with the same guy my dad had hired when he started the company. He’s an older gentleman, who is about ready to hand over the reins and retire. The teams we have in place both in the offices and on the yachts are amazing. We are growing and making the right decisions, making my father’s dream an even more profitable company.
I always thought I’d be working with my father; I think as I take a breather waiting for my new crew to arrive. There will be a team of nine joining me on the next six continuous charters we’ll be doing. The chef who’ll be on board comes highly recommended as one of the top chefs in Italy. Marco has done several other charters on even bigger yachts with other companies. Though if I feel his food isn’t up to par, I won’t give a shit who said what and where he has or hasn’t worked. I’m not afraid to fire him and hire a new one in the middle of the charter. I’ve worked with the bosun before. Rob is a good guy; he knows his shit. He’ll handle the rest of the deckhands, Scott, Derek, and Eric with respect but he’ll expect them to do their jobs and to do them all to the best of their abilities. He’s a no bullshit type of guy. It’s the one trait we are completely on the same page about when it comes to our jobs. But I’m that way with everything I do. If I want something I go after it, no holding back…that goes for both business and the ladies I desire.
The rest of the deckhands are new to me. I’ve read their résumés; I know what experience they are coming with, and I’ll be watching to make sure they live up to the words they put on paper. Again, I don’t tolerate bullshit, so as much as I can be a good guy to work for, I can be an arrogant ass too, as I’ve been told. Don’t fuck up and we’re good, plain and simple.
As for the chief stewardess, Marie, she’s been on several other charters with me. We’ve had our differences along the way, but we have respect for each other and I know she’s good at her job. The other three stewardesses who are going to be joining us, and she’ll be in charge of, are pretty much rookies. The second in line, Ann, has about two years’ experience in the field, then Brittany is third, with only one season under her belt, and bringing up the rear is Maci. She is a complete rookie. I’m trying to figure this one out. Why would you decide to go work on a boat when you just finished college, with two degrees, I might add. By her picture she is stunning; flawless face and long chestnut brown hair, so I’m looking forward to a little entertainment with her. Just like all the ones before her, they all think this can’t be too hard, serving food and cleaning, little does she know it’s a lot harder than that. She better be ready to put that hair up high as she scrubs the toilets and picks up after drunken, obnoxious guests. Why I decided to give her a chance, I don’t honestly know. I don’t usually bother even wasting my time, but there is something about her that is drawing me in. I couldn’t stop looking at her picture. It made me want to see this one in person, so I hit the send button on the email that says, “Welcome to the crew…”
Maci
Growing up my mother was a stay-at-home mom, taking care of my older brother and myself. While my dad worked for an advertising company, running their accounting department, the same one he’s still at today. He made enough money to support us and gave us a pretty plush lifestyle growing up. It’s been over thirty years since he walked into that building to start his career, and he has always assured both my brother and I there’d be a job waiting for us there when we graduated college, doing the same thing he dreamed about. The problem was and still is, I’m not sure I want that. Everyone at the company loves him. They know they’ll never find someone harder working than him, as there have been plenty of days that have kept him there until well after we went to bed. We have become family with the two brothers who own it, how could we not, we practically grew up there. We’d bring Dad lunch or if necessary, dinner and would always go say hi to everyone else.
My brother, Joel, is four years older than me and has been working side by side with Dad for a while now. He walked from college to a job that was laid out for him on a silver platter. After two years, he was making himself known the same way my dad did. He showed the owners how they could save even more money by doing some of the things in-house instead of outsourcing it. And because of that he earned himself a hefty bonus and nice six figure salary to go with it.
Now it’s my turn to fall in line, or so they all thought. I hated to disappoint them but it wasn’t where my heart was at. After just a year in college I wanted to change my major so badly, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it. He wouldn’t pay for any of my schooling if I didn’t finish the degree I had already started. So, I did what he wanted, but I also got him to agree to pay for any other classes I took. I honestly thought he really believed that if he agreed to do that, I’d realize I loved accounting and no other degree would compare. Unfortunately for him that wasn’t the case, but thank goodness I stuck to my guns and decided to take something that seemed way more interesting: Interior Design. I fell in love with a passion I knew I always had but just never really explored it. Matching colors, patterns, and furniture screamed to me, pulling me in the moment I decided to redo my bedroom back in the tenth grade. My mom said I could do whatever I wanted to, so I researched every detail and I took my time laying it all out to her. She told me back then she thought I had talent.
I went through six years of school and walked out with the accounting degree for my dad and the interior design degree for me. Dad was beaming with pride, while rolling his eyes as to why I’d ever want to go into a field he felt wouldn’t earn me the money he thought I wanted to make to survive in this world. Little did he know, if I landed a job with the right design firm, I could make bank right there too. But I never wanted to go into the field for the money, I didn’t care if I was only going to make minimum wage or a ton more, I loved it.
Now I’ve been home for only twenty-four hours and I am already sick of listening to the speech from my dad and brother. “You will love it there. You can set your hours. Wait ‘til you get your first paycheck. Blah, Blah, Blah…” I know they are only trying to look out for me but it’s just too much, too soon.
Waking up, I know I need to make a decision. Opening my laptop, I fire it up and hit the job searches. It was then, like a lightning bolt, it hit me…“Join our crew,” is how the title reads. I read through every detail and I know it’s going to be a fun summer if I get this job. I immediately make sure my résumé is up to date. I’m not sure if I have any qualifications that they’ll be looking for, but I figure I can tweak it a little here and there to make it sound like I’d be someone to take a chance on. I know I’ll give it my all when I step foot on the flybridge to the boat, now I need to convince the owner of SS Yachts. I might have added that I worked at a hotel during my college days, showing that I knew how to make beds and clean rooms. I mean it wasn’t a total lie, I had an apartment and roommates who I picked up after and I made my bed every morning. It was a little white lie as they say. What harm could it really cause? By ten o’clock I felt good, I had hit send about an hour ago, I took a shower and now I am sitting out on our rooftop outdoor area having coffee and enjoying some sun, patiently waiting on an email to come.
Two days have passed and I’ve heard nothing. Ugh, I’m getting frustrated. I really want this job. I know it isn’t in either direction of the degrees I have but it sounds fun, so why not. One last hoorah, before being an adult full time. I decide I’ll give them until Friday then I’ll start applying for other jobs.
It’s Friday afternoon and nothing…no message saying, “Thank you, but we’re not interested,” or “You aren’t qualified but thanks for applying,” nope, I got nothing. I was on the verge to give up when at six o’clock, my iWatch notifies me I have a new email. Scooting off our outdoor chaise lounge, I scurry to my bedroom where my laptop sits on top of my bed. Booting it up, I wait impatiently. Sure enough there it is, the “Welcome to the crew,” email I’ve
been waiting for. I’m beyond ecstatic so I engage in a little celebration dance all by myself. Now for the conversation I’ll have to have with my parents.
I explain it all out over dinner, as well as promise my dad that this job is just something to pass the time and clear my head for the summer. He lightens up a bit after that. My mom is actually thrilled that I am finally taking time for myself. I know my dad only wants what’s best for me but what he thinks I want and need, might not be what I think I want and need. I’m hopeful I’ll find myself a little more on this trip and figure out in the process where I’ll end up. I’ve got about seven weeks to do it in. It’s time to pack as I have to be at the dock by noon tomorrow.
Chapter One
Reed
It’s 7:00 a.m. on Saturday. Everyone will arrive today, one by one, throughout the morning. When I have my assistant send out the emails welcoming them to the SS Yachts, I let them know they’ll need to be at the dock no later than noon or this yacht, known as Sweet Pleasure, will be leaving without them.
I usually stand where I can see who’s heading in my direction. First to arrive is Rob. It’s no surprise, he usually shows up right at the top of the eight o’clock hour.
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