I shiver remembering his lips on me. His body enveloping me in his warmth and need.
His abs, his chest…I freeze.
The tattoo on his chest flashes in my mind and the date. I look at it, like I can see it beneath his coat. “Your mom?” I breathe. “Dirk, I’m so sorry,” I say with raging emotions in my voice.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his left side—a perfect fit. “It’s alright.” He kisses the top of my head and that, by itself, is enough to bring back another flood of memories.
“How’d I not know?” I pause, looking up at him. “Wait, did you know?”
He smirks again, “Yeah, Rebs, I knew.”
I smack him. “Asshole.”
He laughs.
“Dirk?” someone calls. He turns toward the sound. “It’s time,” the voice says, and Dirk kisses my forehead again before releasing me.
The cold creeps back in as he leaves me standing there.
Randy and Kathleen join me at my sides. “You could have told me he was going to be here,” I say with a hint of irritation in my voice.
“Are you kidding? You really wouldn’t have come then,” Randy teases me.
Too right.
Deidrick “Dirk” Xavier Tyler stands behind a podium, his tall frame towering over it. There’s no microphone, just a podium to indicate where the front is, more or less.
I feel and see people gathering in a semi-circle.
Dirk’s eyes find mine, and I find myself smiling reassuringly at him, much the same way he did for me at the gala. He nods softly.
“Thank you for coming. Today marks 20 years since the sinking of the fishing vessel, Killer Whale. On this day, 20 years ago, the sea was raging, the weather was well into the negatives, and the Killer Whale was making its way back into port. Its decks stacked high, its tanks overflowing from a great trip. The wind and ice were too much, and the crew couldn’t clear the ice fast enough when she started to list.” He takes a breath, his eyes finding mine again. “It’s believed that there was a large wave that crashed into the starboard side, tipping the top-heavy vessel to a point in which it was unable to recover. We don’t know the details, but given the wreckage, it’s believed it happened so fast those on the stacks were swept into the sea and a lone man, Captain Erron McKay, was trapped in the wheelhouse.” I swallow, hard. Tears I haven’t felt in 20 years, threatening. “Today we honor the seven members lost that day, the boat, and the two members we’ve lost since that day. And we honor all those lost in this fishery over the years with a moment of silence.”
Just then, someone approaches a bell. At the same time as the bells through town ring out, the bell is struck. The gentleman standing at the bell calls out a name. The next bell, another name. This continues. The sixth name is Jackson Tyler—Dirk’s father. I look at Dirk as he wipes a tear from his cheek. The seventh name called is Erron McKay, and Kathleen squeezes my hand. I blink back tears. I haven’t cried over this man in 20 years, and I feel like it’s going to rip me apart here on the dock.
On the eighth toll, “The Killer Whale,” the man shouts loudly.
The pause comes.
No one moves, no one so much as flinches when the next bell tolls. Another name is shouted. Then again, one more.
Outside of my father and Jack, none of the names are familiar to me, not anymore. I hate myself a little for that.
Tears are shed.
Hugs are shared.
Randy and Kathleen move off with some people, and I feel so alone, exposed.
An outsider peeking in on a very private moment.
Dirk sees me alone and gestures for me to come over. He’s talking with a guy our age. I make my way to him. I move a little slower than I intended. For some reason, I don’t want to intrude.
“Rebel, do you remember Dribbler?” Dirk asks me.
I narrow my eyes, thinking. “Vaguely,” I say.
“Nice to see you, Rebel.” The guy beams at me.
I laugh a little, “Hi, Dribbler.” He pulls me in for a slightly awkward hug, and my eyes meet Dirk’s who are crinkled in the corners with laughter at my petrified expression.
Dirk and Dribbler are both older than I am and memories of staying with Sarah while Dad and Jack were working start to creep their way into my mind. Then I remember the little mousy kid Dirk was always hanging around with. “Now, I remember,” I say as he releases me.
He looks down at me, hunger in his eyes. At the same time, Dirk takes my hand, and I shiver at the contact. Dribbler doesn’t notice the connection, and I get the impression from the smirk on his lips that he thinks my shiver is for him. Oh no, not even close.
“We’re ready,” Randy says as he comes over. “Rebs, you still riding with us?” he asks, looking from me to Dirk and back again.
“She’ll ride with me,” Dirk answers for me. I shiver again.
I smile sweetly at Randy who beams back at me. I just shake my head.
Dirk wraps his arm around my shoulders. It’s possessive, and I notice more than a couple glares in our direction as we walk. I can’t help but feel like he’s trying to shield me, protect me from them.
When we reach his truck, he pulls me around to the passenger side and opens it for me. I hop in with a goofy grin on my face.
Then he shuts the door and walks around the truck. He climbs in. The motion is a little awkward as he does, and I am gently reminded of the elephant we never talked about. He situates himself, his right leg bent 90 degrees at the knee and his left leg reaching for the pedal, he can’t drive with his prosthetic. He closes his door and turns the truck over. It roars to life. It’s older, either a rental or on loan from one of the ships in town. Maybe even one of his own. DXT Logistics is a transport company based in Alaska. It’s entirely possible that their specialization in refrigerated transport could have to do with the crab fishery. Given who our fathers were.
There’s some movement in the back. I look through the back window and see Dribbler and the two guys Dirk was talking to before the bell ringing ceremony. They’re making themselves comfortable in the bed of the truck.
Once they’re situated, Dirk takes off. It seems like a very well-practiced maneuver, and I can’t help wondering if these three work for him.
The silence grows awkward.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I finally ask as we drive.
Dirk shrugs. “I didn’t expect what happened that night to happen.”
“You never said no,” I remind him.
“Rebs, you’re not an easy person to say no to.”
“So, you regret it?” I ask him. I want to feel rejected. It would give me the kick in the ass I need to get over it.
“Not for a second.”
I pull in a sharp breath, realizing this isn’t what I was expecting. “Then why did you bail on me?”
He smiles sweetly at me. “Rebs, I had a flight to catch. You were sleeping peacefully. I didn’t want to…”
“You never called.” My voice is a little more irritated than I wanted it to be and he looks at me.
His eyes are searching, appraising me. “I got the impression you didn’t want me to call.”
I glare at him. “What gave you that impression?”
He chuckles softly, “Because, you’ve never been much of a morning after kind of person.”
I narrow my eyes. “How would you know?” I snap.
He laughs, throwing his head back. “You don’t remember much about growing up, do you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I bite.
“Aside from your lack of date at the gala and no jewelry on your left hand?” he asks. I huff. He continues, “You don’t remember how you used to crawl into my bed for the first few days after our dads left?” I shake my head. “You stayed there until I’d fall asleep. Sometimes you would, too, but every morning, I’d wake up and you’d be back to sleeping in your own bed.”
“I…” I pause, remembering. He’s right, even then I had a very hard t
ime with affection. My nights spent in his bed were platonic, obviously, I was 12 when I moved away and he was 14. But it was there, even then—my inability to commit to much of anything beyond the here and now.
“That’s what I thought,” he observes.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Doesn’t mean you weren’t different,” I grumble softly.
“What was that?” he asks as he pulls onto a dirt road and the Bearded Bean II is dead ahead.
“Nothing,” I mumble, relieved that he didn’t hear me. I didn’t mean to say the words, but they were out before I could stop them.
I’m not ready to admit that I’ve masturbated to the memory of the feel of him pressed into me, his very nice, long and thick, well defined cock inside me. The way he toyed with my ass and sucked my nipples into his mouth.
I shift, pulling my legs together at the thought.
He notices, but just smirks and pulls up to the boat. We’re the first ones here.
He leans over to me, his hand going to the back of my neck as he pops my seatbelt with his free hand. He grabs my arm before pulling me across the bench seat. “I’ve been waiting very impatiently to do this again,” he breathes and he claims my lips with his.
His lips are soft, warm, everything I need to feel and never wanted to feel again all in one. I moan into his mouth. He tilts my head back, forcing my mouth to open and his tongue slides along mine. He tastes of mint and smells of everything my mind remembers from that night in January.
My breathing grows shallow and ragged.
My mind swims and swarms. His hand still on my neck, he holds me to him as his free hand wraps around me, pulling me further into him. I moan again.
He smiles against my lips, and I jump when I hear a car door close. He releases me. All contact lost.
Randy and Kathleen aren’t looking at us, thank god.
Dirk just smirks knowingly.
“It will never work,” I grumble as I reach for the handle of the door. I move to climb out, but he grabs my wrist, holding me steady. I turn to him.
“How was I different?” he asks.
Fuck.
He did hear me, dammit.
“Can we talk about it later?” I deflect.
He knows what I’m doing, so he glowers at me, but relents with a nod and releases my wrist.
I hop down just as more people start to arrive.
I feel off kilter. Out of balance and out of my element.
In the interim of dealing with the whole mystery man issue, I did everything I could to prepare myself for today and the emotions that would arise in finally dealing with the death of my father. Or coming to terms with the emotions that wouldn’t surface. For 20 years, I’ve had a very nonchalant attitude when it comes to my father and his death because I didn’t have to see it, smell it, touch it, or face it. It’s the precise reason why I’ve never come here before, why I’ve never come back west. Until now.
I finally felt like I was ready to grow up and face my demons.
I just didn’t expect Deidrick Xavier Tyler to get in my way.
When I come around the truck, he takes my hand again.
There’s a warmth, a zap, a familiarity in his touch that makes me shiver. Not from the cold. The three guys who rode over with us quickly make their way onto the boat, and I can’t help wondering who they work for, Randy or Dirk.
Dirk leads me to a very carefully placed stack of wooden pallets about as tall as the port side of the gorgeous Bearded Bean II. It’s colors and design the same as the original, and more memories come flooding back to me.
I watch Randy and Kathleen as they climb up the stacks. Randy goes first, grabbing the handles of the ladder that goes down the side of the boat. It’s only a few rungs long. I watch as he awkwardly turns around, finding his footing on the other side before he reaches out for Kathleen on the stack behind him. I smile as he helps her onto the boat. I understand now why Kathleen wasn’t wearing a skirt when they picked me up. She’s always been one to wear full-length skirts, regardless of the occasion. But today, she’s in jeans and boots.
Dirk leads me to the stacks and puts his left foot on the first step up, then releases my hand as he repeats with his left foot. If Randy had as much trouble, I can’t imagine Dirk doing that. I almost try to go first, but then Dirk is reaching out with his left leg and kind of jumping, expertly grabbing the handles as he steadies himself.
I smile at his quickness at turning around. He reaches over for me, and I step up to the top. I take his hand and reach, and just as I do, the boat pitches slightly, throwing me off balance, and his grip tightens automatically as I frantically reach with my other hand. I manage to make it.
He chuckles and shakes his head, then I watch as he hops down, landing perfectly on his left foot only. If I didn’t know, I’d think he was showing off his athletic ability for me, but I know better. Once he’s stable, he reaches up for me. I put my hands on his shoulders, and he takes my weight, lowering me to the deck.
“I’ll help the guys fire up the engines,” Randy says.
“Right,” Dirk says and he pulls me with him behind Randy. I have no idea where we’re going, and I can’t help wondering why the captain isn’t doing that or hasn’t already done it.
We enter into a wet room where there are jackets, coveralls, rain slicks, boots, and all kinds of stuff neatly—for a boat—arranged on hooks.
Then we’re through another bulkhead and down some stairs leading into the galley. It’s good-sized with a horseshoe kitchen and table. Across from the kitchen is a door that says “Head” then an open doorway and several other open doors showing the crew bunks, but we don’t go that way. Randy turns right, and Dirk takes me up the stairs, no doubt into the wheelhouse. These stairs are longer than the ones leading into the galley and are divided by a landing and a door to the left that reads Captain. Soon after, the entire boat comes into view.
There are people on the deck and more coming over the railing.
There’s a stupid grin on my face as I take in the view.
It’s so much like when I was with my dad. I feel like I did the first time I stepped foot on the Bearded Bean as a kid.
I turn to see Dirk getting comfortable in the captain’s chair. I narrow my eyes a bit. He does some stuff, and then I feel the shake and shimmy as the engines turn over.
I can’t help thinking how sexy he looks in the chair. I smirk at him. “Comfy?” I ask.
He raises his hand, gesturing with his finger for me to come hither, and I dutifully do. I step around the cabinet and take in some things on the windowsill in front of him—trinkets and things. There’s a picture of Sarah, and next to that, a worn picture of Dirk and me the summer before everything went to hell. I narrow my eyes, wondering why on earth something like that would be on board until my eyes roam up, over the window, and there’s a little wooden sign that reads “Captain X.”
“Fuck me,” I breathe as reality rears her ugly head.
He’s not just driving this boat today, he’s on this boat every day. Not as a member of the crew, but as it’s captain.
“Later,” he laughs.
I give him a quizzical look. “You realize I’m your boss, right?”
“Oh, sweet thing,” he shakes his head, “you were my boss in New York.” His smile is bright and happy.
“DXT Logistics?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“A side gig.”
“Riiiiiggght,” I nod slowly. “The gala?”
“I took the first part of Opie season off this year.”
I shake my head.
“All fired up,” Randy says as he comes into the wheelhouse.
“You’re a prick,” I tell him.
Randy laughs and throws his hands up in defense. “What did I do now?”
“Uh, I don’t know. You didn’t tell me he’d be here, and how the fuck did I not know he’s the captain?”
“Because, girlfriend, you don’t give a shit,” Randy says, deadpan.
Hi
s words are true, and they hit me pretty hard. “I know,” I say softly. Then I narrow my eyes. “You planned this? Hoped if you could get me out here, I’d change my damn mind,” I accuse Randy.
He cackles menacingly with humor in his eyes. “Damn straight.”
I shake my head slowly back and forth. “I’m not designed for a boat, let alone hard living,” I remind him.
“No one said you had to spend your days on a boat. I don’t.”
“Not anymore,” I remind him.
“That’s why he gets paid the big bucks,” Dirk laughs.
He’s taking in Randy and my little exchange.
For the first time in my life, I feel like shit about the last 20 years. About how I greedily took my share and did next to nothing for it. Though, Randy and Kathleen get the majority of the owner’s portion and I’ve never spent a penny of mine aside from the scholarships and financial assistance foundation, but still.
No wonder why I was getting glares today.
I sigh and move back around the cabinet, taking in the scene below us. I should really be out there with them, but I don’t feel it would be appropriate.
For 20 years, I’ve stood outside a concrete wall I put up, separating the me I am today from my past. From this part of my life. I’m starting to think things are not going to be as easy here as I’d hoped they would be. I was hoping to slide in and out and stay under the radar a bit, but I’m beginning to wonder if Ryleigh was right, and coming out here was a very bad idea.
Chapter 12
Dirk
Randy got her good. Whether he meant to do it or not, something he said rubs Rebel the wrong way, and I’m not sure I like it. “Wanna go see if everyone is here?” I ask Randy.
“Yeah,” he says as he descends the stairs.
I flip on the loudhailer. It’s a two-way speaker and microphone on the deck of the boat. There’s two talking points. One on the deck just outside the wet room where we came in, and the other on the other side of the deck from here, near where the hauling machinery is, the bait station and the bait refrigerators and storage under the bow’s deck.
Always Love Me: A Standalone Second Chance Romance Page 10