Welcome home, he thought, reaching for her, supporting her with one arm while with the other he tried to gather her hair. Problem was, she had a lot of it, and more than a few of the silky strands stuck stubbornly to the stubble on his jaw as she tried to weakly shove clear of him.
“So much for improving on your first impression of me,” she gasped. “Looks like you were lucky enough to draw the short straw on my crazy. Again.”
“Shh.” Her skin was waxy and green, so he held on to her, afraid she’d slide overboard and drown. “Give yourself a minute,” he said.
She sighed miserably and didn’t look at him. “How many Dramamine do you think it’d take to just kill me?” she asked.
Jacob couldn’t make a return quip, not on that. Not since just about every time he closed his eyes these days all he could see was Brett’s coffin being lowered into the ground.
“I’m so sorry.” She sighed and straightened, still looking wobbly. “But hey, it must be your lucky day. I missed your shoes. Don’t worry. I’ll clean this up and be gone in no time.”
If only he believed that. “Wait here,” he said. He left the boat and strode to the cabin to get her some water and also to find a hose to help her clean up.
But when he got outside again, she and her boat were gone.
Which left nothing to distract him from what he had to do today, and at the thought, the unwelcome nerves returned with a vengeance, tap-dancing in his belly again.
She’d thrown up on the hot guy. Good Lord, Sophie thought weakly as she quickly cleaned up and then maneuvered the boat as far from the little cabin as she could get.
Easier said than done.
They’d had a violent summer storm over the past few days, which had made her seasickness so much worse. Especially since she’d had to move around, aka sneak around, to find places to moor.
The waves were larger than she’d ever navigated before. Feeling naked without a seat belt, she wrapped her ankle around the seat base so she wouldn’t go flying out.
Because that would be more embarrassing than what had just happened. If that was even possible.
The problem was that she was crap at driving the boat. It was nothing like a car. When she steered, it didn’t immediately react, and that guaranteed that she was always in the middle of correcting her previous maneuver. Compounding the problem was that because of the way the wind hit the water, she had to steer into the waves, riding up and over them just as the wave crested.
Not good. Several times The Lucas became airborne for a moment before slamming down, rattling her teeth. She did her best to battle her way through the brutal onslaught of choppy water, but every time she hit a bump, the shock of it jerked her hand on the throttle, speeding her up, slowing her down…
And in five seconds she was nauseous again.
None of which mattered right now because hello, she’d thrown up on Hottie Lake Patrol Guy.
And yes, he was hot. Very hot. The first time she’d seen him, she hadn’t gotten a good look, but today she had. He was big, built pretty badass, and had stood there steady on his feet and stoic in army-green cargoes and a black T-shirt stretched to its limits across his broad chest. Eyes hidden behind those dark sunglasses, he’d held her hair back for her.
Oh God. It was possible she’d just hit an all-time low, but really she shouldn’t underestimate herself.
As she drove, she searched for any other dock that looked deserted. Not that she was in a hurry to try to park this mother-effer. Because if she had trouble gliding across the water at speed, maneuvering the boat into a slip required skills and luck she didn’t have. And something else she seriously lacked as well—patience.
But she had to get to work. Up until a few weeks ago, she’d worked at one of the local hotel chains, running the concierge crew for five locations, and she’d been great at it.
Then Lucas had slept with the CEO’s wife and…well, Sophie had once again paid the price. Now she was temping, taking on every job that came her way out of desperation, because she was getting damned tired of ramen noodles, apples, and peanut butter.
And…she couldn’t find a damn open dock. Finally, she turned and headed back, ending up right where she’d started—at the cabin. She stared at the empty dock and thought of the twenty bucks she’d save in campground day fees, which was good because she was currently so broke she couldn’t even pay attention.
She slowed and eyed the dock, chewing on her lower lip. You can’t moor here…
That’s what Hottie Lake Patrol Guy had said to her, but she’d heard so much more than that.
You can’t major in “good times.”
You can’t quit college. You’re supposed to become someone.
You can’t just casually flit your way through life being a fetch-it girl at a motel.
Life isn’t always happiness. It has to mean something.
If you’re not going to become someone, then at least marry Lucas, who will take care of you.
She shrugged it all off the best she could, because she was done listening to people. Her well-meaning parents. Her past bosses. Her so-called friends, who’d all gone AWOL since she’d left Lucas.