Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
He does a double take. “Jesus Christ, you look awful.”
Thank you. “How do I—” A burp bubbles out of me.
Damon messes about with his controls and the boat slows until it’s bobbing. “There’s one sure way.” An arm curves around my back and he steers me outside to the railing. “Chuck it all up.”
But . . . I glance towards the back of the boat, where Roger has his back turned. “I’m captain.”
“Right.” Damon plucks the cap from my head and gestures over the side of the boat. “Chuck it all up, captain.”
Almost the second he says it, a violent wave of nausea rips through me and I’m doubling over the railing, meeting my breakfast a second time.
Damon rubs my back in large, soothing circles and speaks softly. “There you go. Better out than in.”
“I’m stabbing myself,” I say, wishing I could unlock my vice-like grip on the railing. But I’m stuck there on the precipice of another bout. “Get it out of my pocket?”
Damon slides a hand over the curve of my hip and under my shirt. “Get what out of—” He pulls out the metal stabbing my stomach. “Why do you have a butter knife shoved in your pocket?”
I empty my stomach again, and when I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, he’s still waiting for an explanation. “In case we meet a pirate?”
“Yes,” he says drily, “because this would scare them off.”
Behind Damon, I spot Roger moving our way, worry creasing his brow.
I curse under my breath. Nothing about this date is remotely going the way I’d hoped. Down to the realisation I don’t want to be on this date.
Damon spies Roger, huffs in a way I should wonder about later, and removes his hand from my back.
“Are you sea sick, Leon?” Roger asks, astonished.
I smile weakly, belly stirring again. His stripes are unsettling. “Sea sick? Never experienced that before in my life.” Technically this isn’t a lie. “Ate some bad eggs this morning, it seems.”
“That came on suddenly.”
I hurl over the side again. I expect him to take a step back, but he comes closer. “Tell me what to do.”
I can barely stand. The last thing I want to do is boss him around. Damon seems to tense, though. Like he’s ready to do it.
Roger whispers, “Would it help if I take you down under and comfort you?”
Damon starts coughing violently behind us, and I’m convinced he’s heard every word.
“What do you think, Leon?”
I think . . . that I don’t want him to comfort me.
God, what is wrong with me? Finally someone shows interest, the possibility of more bobbing right there just like this boat, waiting for someone to take charge of the cockpit and direct it to whatever destination is deemed desirable. And it doesn’t feel right.
I finish emptying my stomach. At least, I hope I’ve finished. “Water,” I manage, and Roger scurries off to locate some.
As soon as he’s out of sight, I take three shaky steps and collapse against Damon. “Please, please help me.”
He holds me tight and draws something from his pockets. “Mint?”
I take a piece. He sure came prepared. Almost like he expected this. “Did you expect all this?”
“Not how adorable I’d find it.”
“Damon.”
“Leon.”
I shake my head, but I’m laughing too. He really doesn’t give up. It’s almost admirable. We trade whispers, “You can’t flirt with me when I’m on a date. It doesn’t look good.”
“Should you be hugging me as eagerly as you are?”
“This isn’t hugging. It’s holding on so I don’t topple overboard.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
It should be enough to have me pushing some distance between us, but I’m serious about the toppling bit. He’s strong and sturdy, and supports me with just the right pressure, and I feel safe. And after upending my guts, feeling safe is all I want.
That and my pyjamas, but they’ll have to wait.
“Um, so . . . can you help me get home without Roger taking me down under?”
Damon whispers back, “Have you considered telling him you’re not interested?”
“You can tell?”
“Yeah, babe. Just a bit.”
I bury a sigh in his shirt. “I can’t tell him to his face. I might hurt his feelings.”
Damon’s chuckle rumbles into me and he pulls me into the cockpit. “Tell Roger to head down into the cabin and shut the door.”
“That doesn’t sound—”
“Trust me.”
When Roger comes back, I drink the water and do Damon’s bidding, and Roger sexily slinks his way below deck with some eyebrow waggling that has my stomach crunching again.
“Now what?” I ask Damon, who is starting up the motor.
“Oh, the door’s fucked. It only opens from the outside.”
“I’m fairly sure that’s called kidnapping.”
“For ten minutes?”
Wait, that’s all it took to turn me inside out? Ten measly minutes? I groan.
“Maybe it wasn’t what you pictured,” Damon murmurs. “But I think it’s been a rather successful date.”