sweatpants’ side pockets. Earlier Chase had given her the penknife and gun’s magazine, thinking she might have been afraid of him.
After seeing the computer monitor, she wasn’t afraid anymore, at least not of Chase. She returned the knife and gun’s magazine to the drawer, she slid into bed, and went back to sleep.
• • •
“Hey, my sleepy first mate.” Chase grinned as Laura entered the wheelhouse.
Dusk skimmed the sky. Having glided Madre into the marina, Chase aimed for an empty spot along the dock.
“You slept all day. I thought you planned on sleeping all the way to the Chesapeake.” He focused on maneuvering Madre between two boats that were tied to the dock and secure.
“I did get up for a little while. You were asleep in the kitchen, so I went back to bed.”
“Galley,” he corrected.
“What galley?”
“On a boat, it’s not a kitchen but a galley,” he replied with an easy smile. “If you’re gonna be a sailor, you have to know these things. Remember? A bedroom is a stateroom?”
“And the bathroom is a head. Gotcha.” Her lips twitched and she returned his grin.
She looked cozy wearing his sweats. The swelling around her eye area had eased, but the heavy bruises showed more profoundly.
Physically, Chase had always thought Laura a knockout. She generally wore her blonde hair loose and flowing. Her green eyes kind of gleamed whenever she smiled. Their working environment was casual, yet Laura always wore a dress. Chase never seemed to mind. The woman had one fine set of legs and he had a helluva good time watching those limbs whenever she walked from her desk to the photocopier. They never talked much unless conversation was about the warehouse or the weather. Chase didn’t encourage otherwise. If he did, and decided her personality matched her looks, he might forget his rule about not dating women who worked for his father.
His mood switched to concern. “I’m glad you were able to sleep. You needed it. Feeling better?”
She nodded. “Where are we?”
“The Delaware shore. We’ll dock here for the night. I thought you might have cabin fever, and we could go out for dinner. When was the last time you ate?”
She hesitated, then shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe lunch … yesterday … ”
“Well, you have to be hungry. We’ll take care of that.”
Last night, once assured that Laura was sleeping peacefully, Chase had spent hours searching the Internet for information on supporting an assault victim. Concern for Laura’s well-being forced him put aside the accusation that his father was involved in what had happened to her.
His reservations weren’t from doubting her words. Chase just found the idea of his father involved in a brutal crime difficult to believe. She had suffered a trauma. Her thoughts and feelings, Chase suspected, were a hodgepodge of confusion.
So while she had slept, Chase spent his time on the Internet … until he’d eventually had fallen asleep himself. He needed to know what she was dealing with emotionally. The articles he had read stated Laura might want to talk about being attacked. He disagreed. What good was rehashing? She had said she wanted to put the horror behind her, move on.
Still, he needed to try to make sense of last night. Chase decided in order to gain insight on what had happened, Laura needed to relax. What better way than a nice evening out?
She touched her bruised cheek. “Is going out a good idea? To be around others? We both look like we went two rounds with Rocky Balboa.”
“I found some things beneath the bar belonging to you.”
“What?”
“Your coat. Your desk items. Can anything in the box help?”
“My cosmetic case!” She paused, then frowned. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
Her dress and undergarments, sliced to shreds, were also spotted with blood. Although Laura hadn’t mentioned or asked for them, Chase dropped them in a plastic trash bag and tucked them away in the back of the bedroom
After seeing the computer monitor, she wasn’t afraid anymore, at least not of Chase. She returned the knife and gun’s magazine to the drawer, she slid into bed, and went back to sleep.
• • •
“Hey, my sleepy first mate.” Chase grinned as Laura entered the wheelhouse.
Dusk skimmed the sky. Having glided Madre into the marina, Chase aimed for an empty spot along the dock.
“You slept all day. I thought you planned on sleeping all the way to the Chesapeake.” He focused on maneuvering Madre between two boats that were tied to the dock and secure.
“I did get up for a little while. You were asleep in the kitchen, so I went back to bed.”
“Galley,” he corrected.
“What galley?”
“On a boat, it’s not a kitchen but a galley,” he replied with an easy smile. “If you’re gonna be a sailor, you have to know these things. Remember? A bedroom is a stateroom?”
“And the bathroom is a head. Gotcha.” Her lips twitched and she returned his grin.
She looked cozy wearing his sweats. The swelling around her eye area had eased, but the heavy bruises showed more profoundly.
Physically, Chase had always thought Laura a knockout. She generally wore her blonde hair loose and flowing. Her green eyes kind of gleamed whenever she smiled. Their working environment was casual, yet Laura always wore a dress. Chase never seemed to mind. The woman had one fine set of legs and he had a helluva good time watching those limbs whenever she walked from her desk to the photocopier. They never talked much unless conversation was about the warehouse or the weather. Chase didn’t encourage otherwise. If he did, and decided her personality matched her looks, he might forget his rule about not dating women who worked for his father.
His mood switched to concern. “I’m glad you were able to sleep. You needed it. Feeling better?”
She nodded. “Where are we?”
“The Delaware shore. We’ll dock here for the night. I thought you might have cabin fever, and we could go out for dinner. When was the last time you ate?”
She hesitated, then shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe lunch … yesterday … ”
“Well, you have to be hungry. We’ll take care of that.”
Last night, once assured that Laura was sleeping peacefully, Chase had spent hours searching the Internet for information on supporting an assault victim. Concern for Laura’s well-being forced him put aside the accusation that his father was involved in what had happened to her.
His reservations weren’t from doubting her words. Chase just found the idea of his father involved in a brutal crime difficult to believe. She had suffered a trauma. Her thoughts and feelings, Chase suspected, were a hodgepodge of confusion.
So while she had slept, Chase spent his time on the Internet … until he’d eventually had fallen asleep himself. He needed to know what she was dealing with emotionally. The articles he had read stated Laura might want to talk about being attacked. He disagreed. What good was rehashing? She had said she wanted to put the horror behind her, move on.
Still, he needed to try to make sense of last night. Chase decided in order to gain insight on what had happened, Laura needed to relax. What better way than a nice evening out?
She touched her bruised cheek. “Is going out a good idea? To be around others? We both look like we went two rounds with Rocky Balboa.”
“I found some things beneath the bar belonging to you.”
“What?”
“Your coat. Your desk items. Can anything in the box help?”
“My cosmetic case!” She paused, then frowned. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
Her dress and undergarments, sliced to shreds, were also spotted with blood. Although Laura hadn’t mentioned or asked for them, Chase dropped them in a plastic trash bag and tucked them away in the back of the bedroom
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