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Authors: Lauren Christopher
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but she definitely wasn’t backing down.
“We
have
to go back.” Her fingers spread as she stared at the console. He could tell she was dying to control this—the vessel, the situation, him,
something
.
“We’d have to make the turn all the way back in, ready the fenders, loop the lines,” he said. “We’ll be twenty minutes off schedule.”
“It’s worth it.”
“To you?”
“To Drew.”
He ground his back teeth. Of course. She knew how to get to him already.
“And to me,” she added reluctantly, although she said it as if she knew it wouldn’t make any difference to him.
Her gaze drifted over his shoulder at this mysterious Big Deal Passenger, waving from the dock.
He threw the throttle again and maneuvered the tricky turn back. As he calculated the distance, he wondered again how Drew knew this chick. She had crazy written all over her. Her cheerleader exuberance wasn’t something Drew would normally be attracted to, so dating was off the table. Plus she’d said as much. And Evan had been damned sure to check. The last thing he needed was to get tangled in one of Drew’s relationships again.
“You’ll need to loop the stern line,” he grumbled. “Loosely. I’ll take the bow.”
She headed down while he concentrated on pulling back in. He did a stellar job, if he did say so himself. Especially with a hangover. The glasses helped keep the brightness down, from Drew’s squeaky-clean white deck, to the winter sun glaring off the water, to Cinderella’s tourism smile.
When the boat was snuggled tight, he headed down the steps and checked to see who garnered this type of attention. Must be some rich fat cat. Probably in a suit and tie and shiny shoes.
But all he saw was a youngish-looking dude in cargos and a T-shirt, with an Ivy League haircut and a watch that probably cost more than Evan’s sailboat. Cinderella was fawning all over him, so this must be the guy. Two beefy men stood behind him in dark shades—they could only be bodyguards. As Evan watched Cinderella dropping her head to the side in the universal sign for
I find you attractive
, he wondered what this asshole’s story was.
“I’ll get them,” he mumbled, stepping in front of her. They could do this without retying the whole vessel. He secured the back end, enough to let them step aboard, and reached out to help them by the elbow. The bodyguards, as expected, didn’t want to be helped. Mr. Big Deal Passenger allowed Evan to help him, though, which made Evan lose his last four millidrops of respect.
“Mr. Stevens!” Cinderella beamed. “It’s so great to have you aboard.”
“Aw, call me Kyle, Lia.” He cuffed her shoulder.
Evan rolled his eyes.
“Thanks for stopping for me,” he added.
“No problem,” Cinderella said. “Drew’s not here today, but this is his
brother
, Evan Betancourt!” She said it like being brothers was the most stunning coincidence in the universe.
Stevens turned, as if surprised that Evan was still there, and looked him up and down. “Nice to meet you.” He shoved his hand forward, and Evan finally shook it.
“So where’s Drew?”
Cinderella jumped in: “He was in a terrible motorcycle accident.”
That caught Stevens’s attention. “Motorcycle?” He said it with the kind of wonder that Evan associated with rich, entitled young men who were entitled to everything but risk.
“Yes, but he’s on the mend.”
“And you’re running the business in his absence?” Stevens gave Cinderella a quick once-over that seemed to hold some dubiousness. For some reason, her breasts and hips seemed to be an important part of his perusal.
Evan stepped into Stevens’s line of vision. “We’ve got to get going,” he said, taking the line from her. This Stevens character was rubbing him the wrong way.
“I am.” Cinderella moved around Evan. “We don’t expect any kind of bump in the road for the business. Come aboard.” She motioned with her hand, the model of efficiency.
“We
have
to go back.” Her fingers spread as she stared at the console. He could tell she was dying to control this—the vessel, the situation, him,
something
.
“We’d have to make the turn all the way back in, ready the fenders, loop the lines,” he said. “We’ll be twenty minutes off schedule.”
“It’s worth it.”
“To you?”
“To Drew.”
He ground his back teeth. Of course. She knew how to get to him already.
“And to me,” she added reluctantly, although she said it as if she knew it wouldn’t make any difference to him.
Her gaze drifted over his shoulder at this mysterious Big Deal Passenger, waving from the dock.
He threw the throttle again and maneuvered the tricky turn back. As he calculated the distance, he wondered again how Drew knew this chick. She had crazy written all over her. Her cheerleader exuberance wasn’t something Drew would normally be attracted to, so dating was off the table. Plus she’d said as much. And Evan had been damned sure to check. The last thing he needed was to get tangled in one of Drew’s relationships again.
“You’ll need to loop the stern line,” he grumbled. “Loosely. I’ll take the bow.”
She headed down while he concentrated on pulling back in. He did a stellar job, if he did say so himself. Especially with a hangover. The glasses helped keep the brightness down, from Drew’s squeaky-clean white deck, to the winter sun glaring off the water, to Cinderella’s tourism smile.
When the boat was snuggled tight, he headed down the steps and checked to see who garnered this type of attention. Must be some rich fat cat. Probably in a suit and tie and shiny shoes.
But all he saw was a youngish-looking dude in cargos and a T-shirt, with an Ivy League haircut and a watch that probably cost more than Evan’s sailboat. Cinderella was fawning all over him, so this must be the guy. Two beefy men stood behind him in dark shades—they could only be bodyguards. As Evan watched Cinderella dropping her head to the side in the universal sign for
I find you attractive
, he wondered what this asshole’s story was.
“I’ll get them,” he mumbled, stepping in front of her. They could do this without retying the whole vessel. He secured the back end, enough to let them step aboard, and reached out to help them by the elbow. The bodyguards, as expected, didn’t want to be helped. Mr. Big Deal Passenger allowed Evan to help him, though, which made Evan lose his last four millidrops of respect.
“Mr. Stevens!” Cinderella beamed. “It’s so great to have you aboard.”
“Aw, call me Kyle, Lia.” He cuffed her shoulder.
Evan rolled his eyes.
“Thanks for stopping for me,” he added.
“No problem,” Cinderella said. “Drew’s not here today, but this is his
brother
, Evan Betancourt!” She said it like being brothers was the most stunning coincidence in the universe.
Stevens turned, as if surprised that Evan was still there, and looked him up and down. “Nice to meet you.” He shoved his hand forward, and Evan finally shook it.
“So where’s Drew?”
Cinderella jumped in: “He was in a terrible motorcycle accident.”
That caught Stevens’s attention. “Motorcycle?” He said it with the kind of wonder that Evan associated with rich, entitled young men who were entitled to everything but risk.
“Yes, but he’s on the mend.”
“And you’re running the business in his absence?” Stevens gave Cinderella a quick once-over that seemed to hold some dubiousness. For some reason, her breasts and hips seemed to be an important part of his perusal.
Evan stepped into Stevens’s line of vision. “We’ve got to get going,” he said, taking the line from her. This Stevens character was rubbing him the wrong way.
“I am.” Cinderella moved around Evan. “We don’t expect any kind of bump in the road for the business. Come aboard.” She motioned with her hand, the model of efficiency.
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