AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I was wrong to stare and so is he. She's a person and deserves respect. Right?
Right.
I don't explain, and I don't look at her when I pull off my T-shirt.
“Here,” I say, passing her the shirt. “Take this and use it as a cover. Assuming you want a dry shirt to change into?”
Her mouth hangs open, and her eyes are practically bugging out of their sockets. She looks like a fish out of water. Her lips slam together and then open. She wants to say something but seems unable to find the words.
I don't give her a chance, turning my back to her.
That doesn't stop my thoughts from running wild.
The rustling of clothes, the sound of a heavy wet shirt hitting the floor . . .
My pulse picks up as I imagine her naked body behind me.
I shake my head. Nope. Please stop.
Another sound pierces my eardrums, but I still don't turn around and look. I refuse. I'm not that pervy guy trying to get a peek. I don't need to. I'm Paxton Ramsey, and as egotistical as it might sound, I have no problem getting laid. I don't need to obsess over a woman I hate everything about, other than her appearance.
“The coast is clear. You can turn around.” Her voice is sugary sweet, notwithstanding the situation, and that gives me pause.
Why on earth is she being nice after everything I've said to her?
I turn around, and I'm met with something far worse than seeing her in a wet T-shirt. She's in a dry shirt—my shirt. It falls to her upper thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. It's a dress on her. A dress that should be illegal.
“How long do you think it will take?” She lifts her hand to scrub at her face, and the fabric rises, giving me an even better view of her toned thighs.
“What?” I ask, clearly too distracted to understand what she's asking.
“The boat. How long until it's running?”
I shake my head and try to clear my foggy brain of stupid, idiotic thoughts.
Our eyes lock, and it's clear she knew very well that I was gawking.
Her cheeks stain red at my perusal, and her eyes drop to her toes.
I clear my throat, not at all obvious that the situation is awkward . . . so awkward.
“I don't know, but now that you're situated, I'll go check it out.”
Turning away from her, I breathe out a sigh. I shouldn't want this woman. I don't want this woman.
I'll keep repeating that in hopes my brain and my dick get on the same page ASAP.
She's fucking hot. That's fact. It's also fact that I put her on the off-limits list a long time ago.
“Do you know anything about boats?” she asks from behind me.
“You can say that. I've been driving them since I was a kid,” I say over my shoulder.
“Driving is not the same as fixing.”
I blow out a breath, and I swear my eyes cross in utter annoyance.
“I know what I'm doing, Mallory.”
“Really?”
I turn over my shoulder to look at her, trying hard not to glare. “Why would I lie about that? I grew up on Long Island. Cold Spring Harbor. I used to work on boats all the time.”
The sound of metal hitting metal has me pulling my gaze away from Mallory.
The goddamn captain is now hitting the steering console with a screwdriver.
For fuck's sake. He’ll have us well and truly stranded, and that won't work for me. I need the hell off this boat before I go and do something monumentally stupid.
I don't finish my thought, nor do I say another word to Mallory. Instead, I dart off to where the captain is because we are too far from the coast to have him breaking this thing.
I'm sure I can fix it. I just need him not to do anything stupid in the meantime.
Seems like an easy ask.
When I get to where he is, he's cursing to himself yet again.
This isn't gonna be good.
I wave him off, telling him I'll look at it.
“I'm more than capable of fixing my own damn boat.”
Great.
“I don't doubt that at all.”
I totally doubt that.
“It just seems like you might be frustrated, and I'd like to help so you can take a minute to calm down,” I say, meeting his eyes and hoping he buys the lie.
Begrudgingly, he nods before taking the few steps away from his captain's chair. He finally does the first helpful thing by picking up the radio and calling someone for assistance.
Who knows if anyone is close enough, but at least he isn't breaking anything any further than he already tried to.
I tinker around, looking at all the typical issues, and it isn't long before I identify the problem. I turn around and find that Mallory has taken a few steps closer, practically looking over my shoulder. No doubt inspecting every move I'm making, as though she has a clue what any part of this boat is called or its function.
