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“Yeah, she’s still in production, so she’s not seaworthy yet, but we can take a look and you can think of something good for her. Boat names are serious stuff, and its bad luck to change them once given.” He smiles while looking at me from the corner of his eye before going back to concentrate on the road.
“Oh, Roman…” I don’t know what it is, but the fact he trusts me to name one of his boats is pretty cool and feels serious. He turns up the radio as we continue driving, enjoying the quiet company of each other.
* * * * *
Pulling up to the marina, I see several things all at once as we drive up to a tall metal gate. Roman uses a remote to open and close the gate behind us and I realize there must be a lot of security for these boats being built. There are several large ships decorated with an anchor logo and the initials R.W. sitting pretty right in the middle. Their beautiful shiny new hauls are sitting in docks waiting to be launched. Crews are busy hosing them down and keeping them pristine while others seem to be doing things people in boatyards and marinas do. Hey, I’m from LA and I don’t know jack about boats except these are big luxury ones like the kind rich people own and charter in the Mediterranean.
“Oh, my god, Roman, your boats!” I say, pressing my nose to the window, clearly impressed. I look back at Roman who is smiling shyly. “How?”
“Technically, yachts, but I engineer the designs. I have a nice backer and business partner who lets me slowly buy back shares in my company from the loan he gave me to start up.”
Yachts. My boyfriend builds fucking yachts.
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper, looking back out the window. I knew Roman loved boats, but this, this explains so much more about him and why he lives in Seattle but can take so much time off to go home to Gold Beach.
“Come on, Hollywood. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little water?” Roman gets out of the truck and slowly walks around to my side, opening the door and unbuckling my seatbelt to help me out.
“Well… you know what they say about a man who makes big boats,” I mutter, and he grabs my hand excitedly, half dragging and propelling me up the dock to the boat we’ll be taking out.
“Yup, and if you’re lucky, I’ll even let you steer my big wheel.” Roman chuckles and we both know what big cheeseballs we are. “Come on, I want to show you around the deck and cabin before we take off.”
I follow him as he puts our bags down inside and then takes me back on deck toward the front of the boat. We can see the marina, the little safe harbor we are moored in, and the city of Seattle. It’s a gorgeous view and I take out my phone to take a picture of us. I frown, noticing a text from Lucas. The top half of the message is him telling me I need to call my dad at the office as soon as I get this. It pisses me off, so I slide the screen open and put the camera mode on to take the picture.
“Here, let’s have Jeb take it for us.” Roman takes the phone from my hand and gives it to one of the crew members. “Smile, Hollywood, you make my boat look good.” Roman nuzzles
the top of my head, kissing me, and I lean into his embrace. God, I really do love this man.
ROMAN
Yesterday, we spent the day getting acquainted on my boat. I showed Abby around the deck, crew quarters, and master quarters where we’ll be staying for the next couple days. We sailed out into the Pacific and enjoyed the sunshine. The chef onboard created a delicious meal of fresh salmon and prawns, and we drank far too much wine to be healthy. This morning, I’m feeling pretty hungover in a good way, and my heart feels heavy and at peace while listening to Abby sleep and the ocean gently rock us.
She is snuggled deep under the covers, and from my angle, all I can see is a mop of blonde hair against the starkness of my pillows and sheets. One arm is over her face and reaches out for the far side of the bed. A gentle snore pushes past her slightly parted lips still puffy from our kisses. The ever slight rocking motion of the boat is like a lullaby, keeping us suspended in time. She is relaxed and quiet, a change for Ms. Bossypants, and a chance for me to admire her.
“Abby, Abigail…” I nudge her gently, inching my arm around her middle, squeezing.
“Mmmph.” She mumbles something unintelligibly and I sneak a kiss on her cheek.
“Wake up, Abigail. You know your arm hanging off the bed is boogieman bait…” I try to pull her closer to my side of the bed and hear her breathing change, waking up.
“Nuh-uh,” she utters.
“Um, yeah, so you better get over here so I can protect you.”
“You’re weird,” she says, not opening her eyes but stretching a bit, and I take that as my cue.
“Weird?” She knows by now I’m going to retaliate something fierce.
“Uh, no, just, um… I didn’t say that. Mean that.” I roll over on top of her and push her arms up. “Hiya,” she says, eyes glowing and smiling.
“Hiya right back, counselor,” I whisper before I start to slowly tickle her from her prone position. I know she’s fighting back a giggle, so I increase my pokes and rubs in the spots that affect her most.
“This is non-consensual tickling!” she loudly reprimands me. I double my efforts.
“Say it and it all goes away.” I’m egging her on, enjoying her wiggling body underneath mine.
“This offense is punishable in a court of law!”
“Eh, I’m first-time offender. I’ll get off. You know I will.”
