“There’s a place called Sapphire downtown. Nothing too fancy.”
“Sapphire it is.”
She gets in her car, but before starting the engine, she rolls down the window.
“Dex?”
“Yeah?”
“Just so we’re clear, I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Good. As long as we’re both equally confused.”
As I watch her drive away, I realize I’m in deeper shit than I thought. This isn’t just physical attraction or curiosity about the woman who’s been occupying my thoughts for months.
I get in my car and sit there for a moment, trying to process what just happened. Two hours of actual conversation. Real laughter. The way she looked at me when she said she was tired of always making the safe choice.
Her voice saying my name.
Fuck.
I start the car and make it exactly three blocks before pulling over into a parking lot. My hands are shaking slightly, and there’s this restless energy coursing through me that I’m not sure how to handle.
I need to hear her voice again. Not the careful, polite version from the rink, but that warm, unguarded tone from the coffee shop. The way she sounded when she was telling me about recording romance novels in her pajamas.
Before I know it, I’m scrolling through my audiobook library. “Passion on the High Seas” - one I haven’t listened to yet. Historical romance, but with pirates instead of dukes. Different setting, same sultry narrator voice.
I hit play and lean back in my seat, closing my eyes.
“Captain Rafe Blackwood had sailed treacherous waters from the Caribbean to the Mediterranean, but nothing had prepared him for the tempest that was Lady Isabella Fairfax.”
Christ. Even saying “Lady Isabella Fairfax” in that professional tone does things to me. Especially now that I know what she looks like when she laughs.
“‘You are in my power now, my lady,’ the captain growled, his weathered hands gripping the ship’s rigging as he towered over her. ‘Your fate rests in these hands that have conquered both seas and hearts.’”
I should probably be embarrassed by how terrible this dialogue is, but Golda’s voice makes even the most ridiculous lines sound... not good, exactly, but compelling. Professional. Like she can take any script and make it work through sheer technical skill.
“Lady Isabella felt her knees grow weak at his proximity, the scent of sea spray and masculine power overwhelming her senses. ‘Captain,’ she whispered, ‘surely you would not compromise a lady’s virtue aboard your vessel.’”
The depth of her voice for the dramatic moments, adds just enough breathiness to sell the fantasy without overselling it. It’s the same voice that just told me about her complicated schedule and her Netflix algorithm, and somehow that makes this whole thing even more?—
My phone rings.
The Bluetooth connects automatically.
“‘Release me from these bonds, you scoundrel,’ Lady Isabella demanded, though her voice betrayed the fire hehad ignited within her very soul. ‘I am not some tavern wench to be claimed by a?—’”
“Dude, what the fuck are you listening to?”
Brody’s voice cuts through Captain Blackwood’s maritime seduction, and I fumble for my phone in complete panic.
“Nothing! I’m not—the audiobook was just?—”
“Is that pirate porn, Dex?”
“It’s not porn, it’s?—”
