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“Are you happy?” I blurt out.
She shakes her head free of whatever thoughts that had her somewhere in the past and blows out a long breath. “I’m happy he’s finally found his way home. I’m happy he’s here…”
“But?” I can’t help but ask.
“I’m still a little angry at him. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m furious. Trouble is, I don’t want to do anything that will send him away again. I want him to stay. I’ve missed him…”I love him.She doesn’t say those words, but I see it in her eyes, nonetheless.
“And you still wantmeto take those to him,” I ask again, wondering why she’s giving me the job when clearly she should be doing it herself. He’s her boyfriend after all. “I can start the fry-up. I’ve cooked an English breakfast plenty of times before…”
“No, Malakai and I have time to sort things out. He’s going to be staying a while anyway, whether he wants to or not. The mast on his boat is majorly screwed. A bit of forced captivity won’t do him any harm.” She winks at me.
“You make him sound like a caged animal. Is he really that much of a loner?” I suspected as much when I met him, but still.
“He’s not much of a talker either, so you won’t be all that long anyway,” she retorts, before turning her back to me as she lights up the hob and gets started on the breakfasts.
I guess that’s my cue to leave.
A couple minutes later, I find myself standing outside Malakai’s boat, Princess. She’s moored at the far end of the harbour out of the way of the other boats. I admire her as she bobs gently up and down on the water. She’s the only schooner, the rest of the harbour is filled with trawlers and tugboats, and during peak season, the occasional yacht. She’s white, the edging silver and her sails are cream. Dark oak lines the deck, makes up the mast and boom, and the seats fitted into the companionway. Her name is emblazoned on the side in large blue lettering. She’s a little unkempt and in need of some tender loving care, but she’s beautiful. Like her owner, I muse.
Beneath her, the ocean is flat with only a slight undercurrent as far as I can tell. In the half an hour I’ve been working at my new job, the sun has already cleared the wispy clouds and like I suspected, it’s set to be another scorching day. I take one longing look at the sapphire depths of the sea and sigh, wanting nothing more than to discard the sandwich and coffee and dive right into the depths. It would feel good to wash away this feeling I’ve been bottling all night. Like I’ve lost something that was never mine to begin with.
“There’s no time for a swim. Just get this over and done with, Connie,” I berate myself, swallowing my nerves and the prickle of anticipation at coming face-to-face with Malakai again. I haven’t even seen him since yesterday and my stomach is churning like I’ve just gotten off a rollercoaster and am about to hurl. If this is what love at first sight feels like, then I’m not sure I like it.
Drawing in a steading breath, I step up onto the deck and gently call out his name. “Malakai… Lola sent me with breakfast.”
Inside I hear something fall to the floor, followed by loud cursing.
“God-fucking-damn-it!”
“Are you okay?” I ask tentatively, stepping towards the wooden hatch that leads down into the cabin. “Do you need help?” The hatch is open, but I can’t see much from where I’m standing.
“Motherfucker!” is all I get in response, followed by the sound of water running.
Deciding to ignore my own sense of self-preservation, I step down the four steps into the cabin. The second my foot hits the smooth wooden boards; I realise I’ve made a grave mistake because Malakai is naked bar a small white towel wrapped around his waist. I almost drop the cup of coffee in shock.
“What are you doing here?” He’s glaring at me, his hand held under running water, blood pouring from a cut to his finger. “You made me cut myself!” he snaps, anger blazing.
“I brought you breakfast,” I respond helplessly, my feet routed to the spot as I try my best to keep my gaze focused on his face and not the bulge hidden by the tiny, white towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist. Has he never heard of a bath towel? That looks more like a face cloth.
“I don’t need breakfast. I’m capable of feeding myself,” he growls, ungratefully.
A muscle in his jaw ticks, and tiny beads of water roll from his wet hair and over his face. I watch one drip from his chin and land on the firm muscle of his chest. If he hadn’t made a funny rumbling sound I think I might’ve watched it slide over his six pack too.
“Stop it.”
My eyes snap up, and I swallow hard. I know I’m blushing. I can feel the heat beneath my skin spread out from my middle and up my chest and neck. That same heat slides lower too, and now it’s me gritting my jaw, hoping he doesn’t have x-ray vision and can see that my panties are drenched.
“S-stop what?” I manage to stutter out, oscillating between feeling acutely turned on and pissed off. He’s growly and grouchy and an arsehole, frankly.
He huffs, grinding his teeth now as he looks at me with hard eyes. The moss green colour has changed to a deep ocean blue that’s filled with emerald seaweed and mythical creatures. There’s a story right there beneath the depths, one I’m not sure I want to know.
Snatching his gaze away he glares at his breakfast courtesy of Lola. “Put those down and leave,” he orders, nodding to my hands.
He still has his finger held under the running water which continues to bleed despite his efforts. He shifts, turning his body away from me, the action causes the towel to drop a little lower on his hips revealing a trail of dark hair and that v muscle that I’ve only read about in romance novels, but never seen before him. Dragging my gaze back up I press my lips together and place the offending items on the end of the counter.
“Go,” he orders, pressing his hips against the sink as he deals with the wound. At least there’s no danger of the towel falling off now. That would’ve been awkward for the both of us.
“I think you’ll need stitches for that,” I say, stepping closer rather than turning away.
