“Grayson,” my voice shakes as much as my hands. “I need help.”
“Eliza?” It’s clear and sharp. Alert. “Where are you?”
“On the boat. The?—”
“What do you mean, ‘the boat’?”
“The piece of crap I’m renting out, in Joe’s Marina,” I rush to explain. “The bilge is flooded. The pump isn’t working. No one’s answering and there’s somuch water.” My voice cracks on the last word as I fight to keep the panic from paralyzing me.
“I’m on my way.” There’s no hesitation. No big sigh. Just a rustle of movement as he asks, “How much water is there?”
Too much.“It’s leaking up out of the bilge. There’s some in the cabin.”
“Okay. And where are you right now?”
“In the cabin.”
“Alright. You’re going to go to your car and stay there, out of the storm,” he instructs calmly. My entire body latches onto that steadiness, desperate for an anchor. “I’m going to be there in ten minutes. It’s going to be okay.”
“‘Kay,” I manage, not caring how small I sound.
“What slip is the boat in?”
I give him the letter and number.
“Got it. I’m going to hang up so I can make some calls, but call me again if something happens before I get there.”
“Thank you,” I breathe out, hanging up before I start sobbing on the line.
Thunder roars in the distance, drawing me back to the cabin door, to the gallons of water in the boat.
Grayson is coming.
He’s going to fix this.
The realization settles me, enough for me to finallythink.I’m not about to sit in my car, useless, waiting for Grayson to come and do all the work.
I’m distressed as hell, but I’m not a damsel.
Rummaging through the cleaning supplies for a bucket, I get to work.
25
GRAYSON
My heart isin my fucking throat as I leap into my truck and rip out of my driveway. Rain hammers the windshield, water spraying up from my tires. It’s one of those nasty summer thunderstorms, the kind that come in with a bang and leave a mess before you even realize what hit you.
I battened things down at the farm before I left, but I always head over to check in after storms like this. It’s the only reason I was awake to pick up Eliza’s call, and thank god for that. If I’d known she was living out of a goddamnboatin the area’s most rustic marina, I would’ve warned her about the weather. Hell, I would have added her to my check-in list, despite the space I’m trying to keep between us.
The obvious panic in her tone was a bomb straight to the chest. Still is.
Fuck.
Keeping one eye on the road, I dial Mark’s number.
“The hell you want.” His grumble tells me I woke him up.
I don’t waste time with an apology. “I wouldn’t do this if there wasn’t an emergency.”
