Page 45 of The Sailor

“My point is . . . you gotta do what’s right for you. What you want. You can’t spend your life trying to please others. You’re great at what you do, Marit. Don’t let those assholes tear you down.”

“You’ve never seen me work,” Marit protested. “You have no idea if I’m good or not.”

“You are,” Zach said with conviction. “If you weren’t, Pearson and Deaton wouldn’t feel so damn threatened by you.” Zach put his hand on Marit’s cheek and gently urged her head around so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You’re funny, sexy, smart, strong, sensual, kind, willing to try new things . . . and I’m falling hard for you. I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I have a feeling I never will again. My brothers like you, Kash is halfway in love with you, my mom is all the way in love with you already, and you won Walt and Barry over after being in their presence for five minutes . . . and trust me, after the shit they’ve gone through with Mom and Dad’s former best friend and his son, that’s impressive. Screw what those assholes think, Marit. They aren’t worth your time or energy.”

Her muscles had gradually relaxed as he talked, and she rested her head in his palm. “Thanks,” she whispered.

Zach leaned in and gave her a kiss. “You’re welcome,” he said against her lips.

“I can try to ignore them, but they aren’t going to stop,” she said with a sigh.

“It’ll get old eventually,” he said, although he wasn’t entirely sure he believed that.

It was obvious Marit didn’t either. “Yeah.”

That one word was filled with doubt, but Zach didn’t know what else he could say to make her feel better, or even what he could do besides threaten Pearson to stay away from her.

“For the record . . . I’m very glad you went the cooking route. Because I definitely don’t like it myself.”

Zach chuckled, glad for the change of topic. He didn’t like to see Marit emotionally or mentally tired. Or frustrated. Or scared of someone. And it was obvious there was a bit of fear behind her words. He renewed his mental vow to make Pearson back off for good. Somehow. Someway.

“You want to try out the dish I’m thinking about making for Saturday? It’s one of the busiest days of Lobster Fest, and I need something that’s easy for people to carry and eat.”

“Um . . . duh,” Marit said with a grin. “What’re you making?”

“You said yes before you knew what I was planning on serving,” Zach pointed out.

“Of course I did. Whatever you make will be delicious. I have no doubt.”

“Lobster pot pie with a buttery biscuit topping. I thought I could make them miniature size and put them in little aluminum cupcake-size tins.”

Marit’s stomach growled. Loudly.

She giggled and put a hand over her belly. “Sorry. I swear my stomach is constantly growling around you.”

“Because I’ve done a crap job of making sure you’re fed,” Zach said. “Come on, let’s go say our goodbyes to Mom. Then I’ll take you back to town and make you pot pie for dinner. Unless you want to take a crack at the lobster swing.”

“After all the crate running, I think I’m done being in the water today. Rain check on the swing though. Lobster pot pie sounds perfect right about now.”

Zach went to stand, but Marit stopped him by putting a hand on his arm. He sank back to the bench beside her.

“Thank you. For sharing your home with me and for your words of encouragement. And for just being you. I think you’re pretty amazing yourself.”

This time when Zach kissed her, it wasn’t a short peck of affection. It was deep, carnal, and it was all he could do to pull back and not take her right there on the bench. The only thing stopping him was the fact he’d never be able to spend another nice family day at the swing. Not if he was constantly reminded of having sex with Marit on the very bench where everyone sat while watching the swingers.

“You gonna stay the night again?” Zach couldn’t help but ask as he stared into her eyes.

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to,” he confirmed.

“I have to get up early,” she warned.

“Me too,” he said easily as he stood, taking her hand in his once more. “We fit, Marit. Our schedules, our personalities, our love of lobsters.” He grinned at that. “I really want this to work.”

“Me too,” she said a little shyly.