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I could kill Tuck for ruining that pack of cigarettes last night. I’m not sure I’ve ever needed one more.
Digging my keys out of my pocket, I unlock the gate. The dock dips beneath our weight as we head toward the end of the wooden walkway. The boats get progressively bigger the farther out we go. I own a few that I charter. Others belong to fellow residents.
I sneak a glance at Lu, who’s careful to keep her distance. She’s staring in disbelief at each boat we pass, her steps slowing like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.
She comes from money. James Gibbes owned several boats, although none of them were as big as the ones we’re seeing now. The fact that I’m able to blow this girl’s mind—the girl who’s seen it all—
Not gonna lie, feels good.
Also feels good knowing I’m about to have a boatful of people. People I love being around.
“Welcome aboard, y’all!” Kurt, Dolly’s first mate, greets us from the stern. He unlatches a rear door and gestures us inside. “Wait ’til y’all see this food. If this is just the tasting, I can’t imagine how fabulous the actual event is going to be tomorrow.”
I help Goldie and Coop on first, then wait for Lu. But she’s stuck staring at the silver leaf letters on the back of the boat that spell Dolly.
“This is your boat?” she asks.
I dip my chin. “It is.”
“The one you live on.”
“I feel like we keep having this conversation. Yes.”
“And you named it Dolly?”
I smile. “She’s one bad bitch.”
Kurt snaps his fingers. “The baddest.”
“Just like Dolly Parton. Kinda felt meant to be.” I hold out my hand. “C’mon, I don’t want those sandwiches getting cold.”
Lu shakes her head. “This is . . .”
“Amazing. I know. Come on.”
Lu doesn’t take my hand. But her expression does soften when she sees Goldie gasping with delight at the epic spread Chef Penelope set out on the covered table on the port side of the deck. There are several trays of appetizers: fresh cantaloupe with prosciutto and hand-torn chunks of mozzarella, oysters on the half shell, shot glasses of chilled sweet corn soup. Then of course the grouper sandwiches, made with fluffy potato buns and Chef’s purple cabbage slaw. Spritzers in elegant wine glasses (virgin for Goldie and me) wait at each place setting, as do paper cups of truffled french fries, which I can smell from here. Chef also set out a tray of homemade cookies I ordered from Drury Lane, a bakery my friend’s wife owns back in Charlotte.
“You outdid yourself.” Coop takes my hand for a handshake but ends up pulling me into a hug. “Thank you.”
Lu watches the interaction, those indents appearing again.
She doesn’t understand yet. How the lying, selfish asshole I made her believe I was ten years ago is actually the kind of guy who does all this for his friends.
It’s on me to undo my own dirty work. To show her who I really am, the man who worked day and night for ten years straight to build the kind of life she and my mom deserve.
The man who’d do anything to make them happy.
Today, though, I’ll settle for making Lu smile. Baby steps.
Tom emerges from below deck. He makes a beeline for us, tail wagging.
Seeing him, Lu smiles. “Why hello, there. Who’s this?” She bends down to pet him. In true Tom form, he’s all over her, a big doggy smile on his face.
“That’s Tom,” I say. “We been together what, five years now, buddy?”
He jumps up on Lu’s legs in reply.
“Tom!” I yank him off her. “I’m sorry. He’s five, so this puppy energy should be gone by now. But like his namesake, he refuses to age.”
Lu raises an eyebrow. “Who’s his namesake?”
“Tom Cruise.”
She laughs. The sound sends my pulse into overdrive. “That’s…actually hilarious. Why’d you name him Tom Cruise?”
“He’s nutty. He doesn’t age. Definitely doesn’t behave.”
Goldie’s giggling now too. “I see it now.”
“Really, I inherited the name from his first owner. But it stuck.”
Lu’s petting his neck now, making him pant. “He’s perfect.”
“Y’all let me know if he gets in the way.” I turn around. “Hey, Kurt?”
He appears at my side, hands clasped behind his back. “What can I do?”
“Do you mind turning on some Kelsea Ballerini? Start with ‘Muscle Memory’.”
“On it.”
I meet eyes with Lu. She’s staring at me again as she rises, indents deeper than I’ve ever seen them.
I hold up my hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll shut up so you can listen to the music.”
She rolls her eyes. But I catch her lips curling into a tiny smile.
Score.
ten
Louise
BDE
Dolly is big dick energy defined.
Really, the mind behind the classic yacht’s tastefully subtle yet exquisitely executed overhaul is big dick energy.
A boat like this costs millions. Renovating it? Many more millions. Which makes me think Riley could’ve easily bought an oligarch-style yacht. Huge, brand-new, something that came with a helicopter pad and a European supermodel.
