Jockey outright grinned at her and when his head went back in a laugh, his dark grey hair fell from his temple to reveal a scar that ran all the way down to his ear. Gulping, her stomach flipped, and she started to fear what she’d gotten herself involved in.
“Hey, now, I think that’s a mighty nice compliment,” he said. “I’m guessing you met the cap’n… he ain’t as bad as he seems. This job landed on us last minute. He likes to be prepared, and this one caught us off-guard. We were meant to be holed up in port for six months for maintenance… Not that none of us are complaining about being at sea.”
They might not be, but the reality of what she’d signed on for was becoming all too apparent. She was going to be offshore, far offshore, without escape, surrounded by these… raw men.
But, her ability to protect her virtue became secondary when the implication of what Jockey had just implied filtered through. “Maintenance?” she asked, wondering how scared she should be. “Is this boat safe?”
“Oh, Eros is sea worthy all right,” he said, peeking past her. “What you cooking up?”
“Breakfast,” she said and folded her arms. “The captain called this the mess. Why are you calling it a galley?”
“The mess is where we eat,” he said, nodding backwards. “The kitchen is the galley.”
To her it was all one big room, even though it was split level and had a dividing wall between the galley and recreation space. All she could see from the galley was the dining table and door.
“And here I thought we spoke English in America.”
“We’re still in dock, so we’re still in America, sure,” he said. “But, you’re on sovereign Swain land now. His are the only rules that matter.” Opening the fridge at his side, he sought out a soda, and she wondered how he could down the syrupy liquid this early in the day. “Cap’n banned smoking in here, you smoke?” Sassi shook her head, she never had. “You follow orders. You take ‘em like gospel, hear? Discipline’s my responsibility and you don’t want me letting the cat out the bag.” She had no idea what secret he was referring to, but she’d already appeared to be idiot enough that she didn’t want to ask. “You make coffee?”
He had to be able to smell it, but she guessed the question was better than a command. “Uh, yeah,” she said and opened an overhead cabinet to be faced with a bunch of insulated mugs.
As soon as she closed the cabinet, he reached over her and opened it again. “You must’ve noticed everything around here is bolted to the floor. That’s ‘cause on a ship, shit tends to move around. Spillage can cause all kinds of problems, so we use these.”
Made sense. Jockey unscrewed the lid and took the coffee carafe from the machine to fill his mug. “What happened to your last cook?” she asked.
Finding out why she’d been needed in such a hurry just made sense. Whoever had been in her position before her had left the kitchen—oops, galley—all higgledy-piggledy. She’d have to reorganize it when she got a spare minute.
“Cap’n made him walk the plank.”
Although she was startled, it didn’t take long for her to squint with suspicion. “He did not.”
“Sure,” Jockey said. Nodding, he tossed an arm around her shoulders to lower his face near to hers. “Didn’t you know? Our captain is a real, life pirate.”
“Yeah, right,” she said, easing his arm away. “You think ‘cause I have breasts that I’m going to be fooled by your sea yarns? I’m green, I’m not gullible.”
But, he crossed his heart. “Swear to Poseidon, let him strike me down.”
Sassi didn’t want to get a reputation for being easy to con, but he did look dead serious. If she asked him any questions, and the claim was false, he’d laugh in her face. If it was true, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know the details.
An impulse to flee struck her. But, she swallowed her anxiety about working for a pirate and changed the subject. “Would you like a cookie?”
Scurrying deeper into the galley, Sassi pulled her cookie tub from another cabinet and went back to offer him a treat.
Now it was his turn to look surprised. “You make cookies?” He selected one and bit into the sweetness. His expression loosened to amazed delight; relief made her grin. “Raise never made nothing like this.”
“Raise?”
“Our last cook,” he said. “His food was all about clogging our arteries.” Jockey was actually happy about that, nostalgic almost, while she had to dampen the roiling in her stomach. “If it don’t drip with grease, we don’t want it.”
Her stomach revolted again. “I don’t know about that but I’ll do my best.”
She’d been sure that the captain was all muscle. If his diet was that bad, maybe there was no fitness behind the facade.
Shouting outside the door made her peer around Jockey who must have heard it too because he turned around. Two men stumbled in. The larger of the two had the scrawnier one in a headlock, he dragged him into the room, guffawing as the little guy complained.
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed and started to move forward intending to help the victim.
Jockey put an arm out to block her. “Don’t pay them no mind, they’re our resident gofers.”
“Jockey!” the large guy said, letting the smaller one loose at the same time he noticed her. “Fuck me, the cap’n finally got a wench to take the edge off these long trips… Come o’er here, honeypie. Come sit on Swing’s lap.”
Her mouth opened. If the captain thought she was going to whore herself to any bastard on his order, she’d smack him down hard.
“Hey, now you know the cap’n’s rules about fornication on board,” Jockey said. Sassi became aware of how the first-mate still had his body angled in front of hers. Was he hiding her body from these guys or protecting it? “This here’s our new cook, Sassi.”
Grabbing the cookies from her, Jockey tossed the box to the guy in front.
The pimple faced boy beside him peeked inside when the big guy took the lid off. “Cookies!” the young one exclaimed and grabbed two.
“Just like momma used to make,” Jockey said. As the guys dug into the cookies, the first-mate stepped back to put an arm around her. “That big one there, he’s Swing. He’s a gorilla, slow, but he’s got a good heart, doesn’t always think before he talks. Don’t you worry, cap’n let’s his crew fix problems the traditional way. And you being a female, you can pick any guy on crew to fight for you. Word to the wise, pick the cap’n, he never loses a fight and won’t see a woman disrespected.”
Her jaw loosened. “Fight for me?”
“Sure! You don’t want to take Swing on; he ain’t smart enough to know when to stop swinging.” Maybe that was where he got the nickname. “We call the little ‘un Fidget ‘cause he doesn’t know how to sit still. Boy’s eyes are working if his hands ain’t. Cap’n’s got his work cut out keeping that boy busy. Only time he doesn’t look like he’s about to piss his pants is when he’s eating, and without Swing, forget it; the boy’s a danger to himself out there. Captain knows his momma, she about begged him to keep Fidget outta trouble.”
So, the captain had taken the youngster on as a favor to the mother? Was there a relationship there? Fidget looked young, but not that young. He was still a man, maybe around twenty. But, maybe the captain had a thing for older women… or the woman wasn’t older. It could be that she’d been a young teenager when she had Fidget.
“How old is the captain?” she heard herself ask.
Jockey looked down at her, curiosity or astonishment on his face. “Fidget ain’t his, Captain ain’t like that. If he’d got Margo in trouble, he’d have married her. Don’t you forget our captain’s an old-fashioned guy.”
Old-fashioned. She didn’t really know what she was supposed to take from that. But, Jockey was looking deep into her like she should get it. “I don’t—”
“Yo! You pricks!”
Jockey turned at the same time she noticed a guy with floppy dirty-blonde hair hanging in the door, wearing a
frown and looking unhappy. “Foist, where you been?” Swing called out.
“That’s Foist, our engineer,” Jockey said to her in an aside.
“Me and Swain are out here doing all the work. Get your fucking asses on deck now, we’re casting off.” His severe eyes popped to her. “That means we want chow soon.”
Though there had been no proper introduction, Foist clearly knew who she was. She had to be easily identifiable. That made Sassi curious about how many women were onboard, she hadn’t seen another one yet.
“I’m on it,” she said.
“All hands on deck!” Foist shouted.
Jockey smiled. Swing and Fidget jumped to it and ran out after Foist. “Uh, can I ask about supplies?” she asked before the first-mate could go after the others. “I’ll be fine with what’s here for a few days, but there has to be more in—”
“Cargo holds are below decks,” he said. “I’ll show you when we’re underway. Do inventory fast, we used Raise’s old chits to stock the ship. But, if there’s anything else you need, the captain can email an order to our guy in Miami.”
“Miami?” she asked. It wouldn’t take four weeks to get to Miami and back. “That’s where we’re going?”
“We’ll land there by nightfall, spend the night, and get underway tomorrow.” Underway where? But, she didn’t have time to ask because Jockey was already on his way to the door. “Guys will be hungry in an hour; Captain and me will be down in two. Anyone’s hands go wandering, hit the intercom on the wall.”
So, that was what the little box with the speakers and the buttons was. “Don’t worry about me,” she said as he stepped out. “Hands I can handle.”
Alone in the galley, Sassi took a deep breath. This was a kitchen, just like any other, even if it did have a different name. Breakfast. The crew wanted breakfast. She could do breakfast, it wasn’t hard. Especially when, after meeting the crew, she’d learned that their standards were pretty low.
Noise outside took her to the circle window above the kitchen sink. Out on the pointy front of the boat, she saw Swain on the deck twisting some kind of crank. The thick muscles in his tanned arm worked beneath the bold ink that circled his flesh. She couldn’t see from here what the tattoos were, but it was clear he had a few of them.
The sun would be up soon; the sky was already beginning to grey and color. A new day meant a new beginning. She had to make this work or these first weeks of her new life at sea may also be the last of her life.
THREE
“I’d rather arrive in Miami early and spend an hour offshore waiting to dock than arrive late,” Swain said to Jockey as they entered the narrow internal passageway flanked by rooms that included his new cook’s cabin.
Swain knew she shouldn’t be his first thought. But, of their own volition, his eyes sought her door. The scents emanating from further down the ship distracted his thoughts from what might be going on behind that door during this voyage.
“Smells like she’s doing good,” Jockey said, giving Swain a shove to hurry him up.
Jockey had been his second in command since he started out. Swain owed a lot to the old man; he was more of a mentor and a father-figure than a colleague. But, his first-mate always followed orders without complaint. Sure, he might tell him he was talking out his ass in private, but Jockey never undermined him in front of the crew.
Ever since he was a kid, Swain had known Jockey as the smartest man he ever met, and he’d never seen him excited like this over the prospect of food.
After going past the cook’s cabin, which he guessed was empty if she was in the galley doing her job like she should be, they heard the music and the laughter coming from the mess.
Why were his men raucous at this time in the morning? Usually they were complaining for the first few days about his schedule and his crew was always grumpy before breakfast. Even though they should’ve eaten by now, he’d never known breakfast to turn into a party.
But, his first-mate wasn’t discouraged; he seemed eager to follow the smell of their first meal of the day. It was mixed scents of bacon, coffee, and something sweet.
Swain didn’t want to jump to any conclusions about her abilities. Holding his reserve and maintaining suspicion had always served him well. He’d give new people a chance, but they had to prove themselves before he’d trust their capabilities.
The cook was no different and she wouldn’t be cut any slack just because she was a female. She’d be expected to sweat as much as any of the men and better be capable of handling the pressure.
When he and Jockey rounded into the mess, all thoughts of her capabilities fled. The only thing he could focus on was the sweet little ass in tight skinny jeans on the other side of the room. Bent over the furthest galley counter, it was pert, perfect, and out of place in this grubby, masculine space. From the silence that had fallen on the room, he’d bet he wasn’t the only one checking out the female form.
The crackly music they’d heard in the passageway was still playing. From her position, he’d guess she was fiddling with the FM radio that hung beneath the porthole over there. It was only supposed to be used in port; the signal wouldn’t last when they were constantly moving. But, he wasn’t going to tell her that while he had this view. In fact, he found himself hoping it would take her a while to find the station she was seeking.
Fuck, what an asshole.
Forcing himself to look left to the table, he saw Fidget, Foist, and Swing salivating over the new cook.
Heat in his chest became rage in his belly and his attention snapped around to that ass, which was now moving in time to the music, tormenting his men more.
Whistling, Swain marched toward her. If he’d got to her faster, he’d probably have smacked her hard. “Waif!” he called out.
Then it happened.
She straightened up and spun around to look at him. The moment she did, he came to a dead stop. Her eyes were a deeper blue than the thick ocean that he loved so much. Her chestnut hair was tangled in a messy knot on the top of her head, and she’d used a folded bandana tied just behind her hairline to try to tame those wild locks. Her skin, clear, sun-kissed and smooth, looked like it would taste sweeter than the scents oozing from the stove.
Her full soft lips turned up and he wondered if she was wearing makeup or if their deep red hue was natural. Never in his life had Swain hankered after a member of his crew and he’d sure never noticed their mouths.
“Captain!” she said and swanned forward a step.
She moved like she was on castors. The sleeve of her black Swain polo shirt slipped off her shoulder, revealing a taut triangle of unblemished flesh over a skinny collarbone obvious beneath the skin.
The buttons of the top were undone. He’d guess from the way the hem clung to her waist that she had it tied at her lower back, probably to keep it off the stove. It didn’t matter that she’d just had her back to him, he’d been too preoccupied by the sight of her ass to notice what she’d done with her top.
Her bare hips were on show too between the waistband of her low-riding jeans and the angles of what he’d always considered a conservative uniform. Only she could make a man’s polo shirt look salacious.
More anger burned in him when he noticed the length of her lashes and the curve of her neck down to the ball of that feminine shoulder. What the hell was he doing noticing her figure?
“How do you take your coffee, Captain?” she asked, unhooking an apron from beside the commercial fridge. When she put it on, he read his name emblazoned across her breasts. Pride, and something like possession began to seep around the anger in his belly… he didn’t like it. Didn’t like any of this.
Smudges on the fabric suggested that she’d already worn the apron that day. Damn, she was a hard worker… he respected hard workers. But, respecting her wasn’t going to alleviate any of the tension around his contorted insides.
The apron was too big for her too. The neck strap was tied at the back of her neck to shorten it and when she wo
und the ties around her waist it almost doubled like a skirt, which he figured was good because it should cover up her distracting ass. But, her alterations to the garment also told him that she was resourceful… he admired resourceful people who didn’t see problems or defeat, only challenges and the chances for victory.
She backed up to reach for the coffee pot in the machine on the counter beside the fridge.
Pouring him a cup, she handed it over, wearing a smile. “I’ll bet you like it strong,” she said, coming over to hold up an insulated cup with its lid screwed on; the guys had taught her well already. “Would you like something to eat, sir?”
Did she know about that sexy lilt to her voice that made everything she said sound like a come on? He didn’t like it. It made him edgy and the hairs on the back of his forearm stood up.
“Cap’n, she’s hot! Fucking amazing! You did good. You should check this out!”
Swing had never sounded so excited. Swain turned his back on Sassi to scan the table that he hadn’t noticed was filled with food. Bacon, eggs, pancakes dominated the middle; there were biscuits and condiments and pitchers of juice.
“We ain’t never had a spread like this,” Jockey said, sliding onto the bench beside Foist. “ ‘Specially not on the first day.”
“Watching all the work you boys did to get us underway inspired me,” Sassi said, going over to the table with the coffee pot to offer everyone refills.
Once all their lids were screwed back on, she put the pot back in the machine. Swain realized he’d been standing there stuck to the spot watching her glide back and forth across the room like she belonged there already. Jockey was filling a plate and Swain couldn’t refuse when his first-mate held it up to him.
Going over to the table, he sat at the end of the bench with his back to the galley, which was almost the complete opposite of where he was supposed to sit at the head of the table. But, he figured that if he didn’t look at the wench, he could get rid of the anger that was making him tetchy. Slumping down, Swain glared at the food he’d been given as Jockey filled a fresh plate for himself.
Sweet Seas Page 3
