by Traci Hall
Heath shrugged. “Know too many people who got hooked, I guess. Not interested, that’s all.”
“Fair enough.” She nodded and sat back, keeping his sweatshirt tight around her body. “Do you take them at a scheduled time, or do you wait until it gets bad?”
Heath cleared his throat and toyed with the icing on his roll. Kendra gave him crap about that too. But why take it unless you need it?
“Hmm.” Jolie sighed. “You don’t look like a masochist.”
“I’m not,” he said.
“I can help you. We can work together and put you on a schedule so that you don’t have to be in these moments of agony. Let’s just try it and see.”
“Does that mean I have the job, Captain?”
“It means you’re on probation,” she said, her expression teasing. “If you screw up? I get your cake.”
Heath knew then that he wanted to spend every last second of this summer with Jolie Gordon. She made him laugh, she understood him and didn’t judge. For the first time since the accident, he felt like a new man.
Chapter Seven
Jolie and Heath left the coffee shop and hotel, walking side by side out of the frigid air into the hot South Florida sunshine. “You are going to love my cousin Sabina. But after a few sessions, if you hate it, I promise to let it go.” Honestly, she just wanted Heath to be better. Sometimes people clicked, and she felt that way with Heath.
“That’s fair,” he said, squinting against the sun.
“You need sunglasses.” They got into her little car, Heath putting his suitcase in her compact back seat. “Should we go shopping? Get you some South Florida duds?”
He patted the dashboard. “I have clothes. Jeans.” Heath pulled on the collar of his t-shirt. “What else do I need? Besides shades.”
“Swim trunks. Probably a few pair. Shorts? Your own flip flops.” She looked him over. “It’ll be fun.”
“Shopping?” Heath’s brows lifted to hide behind his bangs. “I don’t think so. Like I said, I have what I need. I don’t wear shorts.”
“You didn’t need to in Utah.” She drove out of the hotel parking lot toward the Coral Springs mall.
“What about my leg?”
“What do you mean?” Jolie eyed his denim covered legs. “The wounds are closed, right?”
“Yeah.” He scowled. “There are scars, you know. The skin’s still tender.”
“Okay.” Jolie kept her gaze on the road. Was he worried about what the scars looked like? How bad could they be? He’d broken his leg...she had a hard time imagining scars from a break. Maybe from the surgery to mend it? “We can find soft material, but you can’t do water therapy in your jeans. Just try some trunks on?”
Heath rubbed at the stubble along his jaw in pure male frustration. “I don’t try on clothes. I know what size I am.”
Jolie laughed softly. “You sound like my youngest brother. We used to bribe him to go shopping with ice cream. He’s twenty-two now and it still works. He’s a sucker for mango. Want me to buy you an ice cream?”
He didn’t answer, but Jolie didn’t take his silence to heart. He had a lot to digest and sometimes change had to be taken in baby steps. She found a shaded parking spot in the back of the mall. “Come on,” she said, getting out of the car. “We will make this as quick as possible.”
Jolie started at Target, figuring they’d have everything he’d need. Heath stayed at her side.
“Why do we need a cart?” he asked. “We’re just getting a swimsuit.”
“We’ll see.” She released the handle and let him take it, so she could lead the way. “Boat life is really compact. You’ll need tan shorts, or pants,” she amended, “and black, for work. Two swimsuits, so you always have one to wear. Trust me, you’ll practically live in them.”
Heath looked doubtful but nodded. “We have a uniform?”
“Sort of. Benedict liked to wear black all the time, which is fine. But black with a white shirt, or tan with a white shirt is good too. I’m not that picky. Black and white is a must for the fancier charters. But tomorrow we have a birthday party for a bunch of teen girls, and tan and white would be more relaxed.”
“Makes sense.” Heath’s grip on the cart was casual, his demeanor calm in the midst of the chaotic shoppers. “I take it I won’t need to buy socks?”
Jolie laughed and patted him on the arm. “That’s the spirit!” In the end, Heath chose two pairs of sandals and some water shoes. Two casual pants, one of each color, two polos. He already had a fancy white shirt and black suit from the wedding.
Next they browsed swim trunks. He picked a black one with blue trim, and a blue pair with black trim. “These are my favorite colors,” Heath said when she suggested other pairs. No parrots or anything bright, she noted.
“What about these shorts?” Jolie lifted a pair of basic light brown cargo shorts from the hanger.
“Nope. I don’t need shorts.”
She had a feeling he might regret his decision later, once he realized how stinking hot it could be on the boat. “Please? Just try them on. Let me see. I know we can find something for you to be comfortable.”
Heath eyed them with resistance before finally giving them the nod.
“Okay. Come on. Dressing rooms are this way.” She couldn’t give him time to think about it, or he’d change his mind.
He grumbled, but took the shorts from her hand and went inside the room. It sounded like he did some cussing, but nothing Jolie could make out for sure. If his skin was tender then she could find a way to add some softer fabric...maybe. She’d have to ask her mom.
“How’s it going?” Jolie waited outside the dressing room, perched on the edge of a hard plastic seat.
“Fine.” He mumbled something else unintelligible.
“Let me see!” She was excited and nervous all at the same time.
He came out, reluctance in each bone of his body as he pulled the curtain back. Heath took her breath away, and Jolie swallowed, her heart doing a silly flutter. His hair was tousled, his jaw tight, his chest stretching the fabric of his blue t-shirt. The cargo shorts were basic, showing off muscular calves.
An angry red line snaked down the back of his left leg.
“They fit great. How do they feel?” Jolie got up and deliberately checked out his leg. “Does it hit the scar tissue? The hem at the knee?” She wasn’t put off by scarring and she was sort of surprised that it bothered Heath.
He turned, and she could see his hesitancy but then he stood statue-still and lifted the hem. Purple and red raw-looking skin criss-crossed all over his knee, lower leg and thigh. It was as if he’d had his leg re-attached. Now she understood. It wasn’t just a broken bone in his leg, but possibly even his life had been at stake.
It took everything she had to contain a reaction. Her natural empathy made her want to offer consolation, but he might take that the wrong way. She didn’t feel sorry for him, but she cared.
She gently touched the puckered skin where the fabric brushed. “Is this where it bothers you?”
“Yeah. Feels like scraping. Worse than when I got my tattoo.”
He had a tattoo? Jolie rose and made sure to look Heath in the eye. “You’re lucky, Heath. Very lucky, I think, to have this leg. Maybe someday you can tell me about the accident. But for now? What about basketball shorts? They’re totally soft and you’d still be able to cool down. We could even cut them shorter.” She pointed to his mid-thigh and then deliberately eyed his backside. “Or how about a Speedo?”
Caught off guard, Heath laughed and shook his head. “Nice. That would definitely be a no. But the gym shorts might not be a bad idea.”
Jolie hustled toward the athletic department, and got three pairs of black shorts, and two pairs of blue. She would do just about anything to see Heath smile.
Heath was glad Jolie didn’t make him come out to show off the cotton gym shorts. They were loose, which was good, because watching Jolie flutter around in that mini sundress was doing thin
gs to his libido.
“You’ve been a good sport,” Jolie said, lightly touching his arm as he put the clothes in the cart. “What do you want to do next? Ice cream?”
“I’m ready for a nap. We didn’t get that much sleep last night.” And what he’d had was broken with nightmares brought on by self-doubt and beer.
“Are you kidding me?” She steered him toward the cash registers. “There is so much to do. Rajah, my First Mate, has the day off, but we’ve got to prep for the charter tomorrow.”
“A birthday party?” Sounded easy enough.
“A sweet sixteen, so we’ll be docked by eleven.” Jolie’s sandals clicked as she walked next to him and the cart.
“I’m serving drinks to kids?” Heath gave her a dubious look. “Probably not a good idea, being illegal and all.”
Jolie pushed a few ringlets behind her ear. Silver anchors dangled from her lobe. “Sodas, ice cream floats. I rented a slushie machine. The good stuff will be on the upper deck with the parents, so the girls will have the disco ball and dance floor all to themselves.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for a bunch of screaming girls.”
“It’s what we do when we’re happy.” She grabbed his arm and grinned. “Squeal!”
Heath bowed his head, hiding his smile.
Jolie’s cell phone rang and she pulled it from the side of her beaded purse. “Masquerade by the Sea,” she answered as if she were sitting at a desk instead of walking through a crowded store.
Heath edged them out of the way, near a rack of women’s shoes on sale. Everything was colorful, turquoise or pink, and sparkled. He tried thinking about women’s fashions in Salt Lake City. Black? Plaid? Earth colors, for sure, which suited him, too. Bright colors were perfect for Jolie, though. Her turquoise dress and sparkling sandals. She wore a stack of colored bracelets up her arm.
“Thank you, Randall,” Jolie said into the phone. “I appreciate the opportunity. In an hour? Town center? Sure. See you then.”
Heath waited for her to explain. There was no point in acting like he hadn’t been listening to her part of the conversation when they were standing right next to each other.
“We might have a new job,” she said, her hazel eyes flashing.
“Good.”
“Good?” She leaned closer to him, her pretty mouth inches from his sensitive ear. “Listen, a job for us is a minimum of $1,400. The fancier the party, the more moolah toward my new engine.”
Engine? Heath took her by the arm. “What’s the matter with the engine?” Was there a chance they could get stuck out in the middle of nowhere?
She pulled free of his grasp. “Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just old. I put all my money into refurbishing the Masquerade on the outside. Most of the inside. And I take good care of the engine, but I know it’s got some mileage on it.”
“How much can an engine be?” Heath had replaced the engine on his Chevy for under a grand.
“We can talk parts while we check out. Then you’ll have to change clothes in the restroom here. You can’t meet Randall Wallace in jeans and a t-shirt.”
“Whoa, I’m not going.” Heath wasn’t ready to meet new people. Nope, a nap and maybe a burger with extra cheese sounded good about now.
“Yes, you are. I need you.” She stared up at him and gave a discreet flutter of her lashes. “Randall is a man-pig.”
Heath stepped back before he fell under Jolie’s spell. With those eyes, she could get anybody to do anything. “I haven’t even been your employee for a full day.”
“I just need you to be in the same room with me. He was a guest when one of his friends chartered the Masquerade and he was a little handsy, if you know what I mean.”
Heath could easily imagine. He wanted to run his hands down her hair, her back, her arm. But he didn’t—that was the difference. He scowled, feeling the furrow between his brows.
She dropped her gaze to his leg. “Do we need a break?”
“No,” he said, refusing to rub the ache. He wished he had some Advil. Or a beer. What time was it, anyway? He pulled his phone from his pocket. They’d been shopping for over an hour? The meds he’d taken at the hotel were wearing off, and the cinnamon roll was a distant memory.
“I promise you a nice lunch after our meeting with Randall. You are going to love our little town. I fell head over heels when I started docking here a year ago.”
“Sounds good,” he said, making an effort to be part of the conversation. He had meds in his suitcase in Jolie’s car. He’d buy a bottle of water. And…
Jolie was frowning at him. “Did you hear what I said?”
“No. Sorry.”
She shrugged, her arms long and lean. “We can buy some more of whatever you’re thinking you need,” she said astutely.
“I’ve got the economy bottle in the car.” He pushed the cart forward as they stood in line. “Why dock here if the town is so small?”
“I think I told you a little bit about it last night. Jamison gives me a discount on the docking slip because I volunteer for Ocean Green.”
“Cool.” Heath hated to be cynical, but the guy probably was angling for a date or something.
“It helps, believe me. Just starting out my business? Marinas want a lot more down on the New River, where most of the other party charters are docked for the Fort Lauderdale area.” She picked up a set of lip gloss in the aisle close to the register. “This stuff tempts me every time.” Jolie read the back, then hung it on the hook it came from.
“You don’t want to buy it?” Heath asked. You could probably get some insights about a person, shopping with them. Was she an impulse buyer, or a list maker?
“I do. But I won’t. I don’t need it, and right now my business gets all of my money.”
Good impulse control. A thinker.
It was finally their turn at the register, where Jolie insisted on paying for his work uniforms. She tried to pay for his shorts, too, but he grabbed them back.
“These are mine,” he said. He could afford to buy some damn shorts, and from the sounds of it, it might put a burden on her credit card.
“You wouldn’t need them if you weren’t making this sudden move to the sub tropics.” She held out her hand for him to give them back, her mouth in a pretty pout that he wouldn’t give in to.
He kept them out of her reach.
“Are you new to Florida?” The salesgirl, cute, blonde and about twenty-five, asked.
“Yeah.” He nodded.
The girl smiled encouragingly.
She was nice and all, but Heath wasn’t interested in small talk.
“Don’t take offense,” Jolie told the girl as the blonde swiped Heath’s card. “He takes a while to warm up.”
Chapter Eight
Jolie parked in the manicured town center across from the aqua condos on the beach. Palm trees and hedges of sea grape and hibiscus bushes made the parking area look like a post card for a tropical get-away. “Here we are.”
They got out of the car, and Jolie waited for Heath to join her before they started walking toward the lime green building with orange and yellow trim. “Are the Advil kicking in?”
“Yeah, but it’s damn hot,” he said, wiping his damp forehead with the back of his forearm. “Feels like my lungs are on fire.”
“Especially after the air conditioning inside the car,” she commiserated. “You’ll acclimatize in no time.”
“My shirt’s already wet.” He pulled at the white polo in disgust. “It’s been two seconds!”
Jolie’d had him change in the mall bathroom and he looked handsome, if over-heated. Sweaty. Hmm. Delicious. “Concentrate on the breeze coming in off of the water.”
The turquoise of the sky matched the turquoise of the sea, and salt from the air stung her cheeks. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in the world.
He scowled at her. “Is there any way to turn up the air out here?”
“No.” Jolie scooped her arm through his, hoping
to distract him from the heat. For somebody not used to it, it probably seemed brutal. “Follow my lead. I’m hoping this meeting between Randall and I won’t be a problem at all. It would be a different story, I think, if I had to come alone. Thanks, Heath.”
Heath grunted, probably too hot to say anything coherent.
They entered the building and Heath sighed as the blast of air conditioning hit him full on. “Now that’s better,” he said, heading toward a water cooler next to the door. He poured a small plastic cup, handed it to Jolie, who shook her head in amusement, and then he downed it in one gulp.
Poor guy.
“Hi,” Jolie said to the woman behind the counter. “We’re here to see Randall Wallace?”
“Oh yes. Jolie Gordon—Mr. Wallace is expecting you. Come right back.” The woman looked about fifty, with soft gray curls and purple reading glasses dangling around her neck. “You own the party charter?”
“Yes.” Jolie tugged at Heath’s arm and he reluctantly followed her away from the water cooler.
The hallway was painted light beige with cobalt blue mosaic tile on the floor. They stopped at a back office with double doors and the woman knocked before opening the left side.
“Mr. Wallace, Ms. Gordon is here to see you.”
“Wonderful!”
Jolie entered, Heath right behind her, and the woman closed the door after leaving. Randall Wallace was tall, painfully thin, and had hair darker than hers. His welcoming expression slipped as he realized that Jolie had company of the male variety.
“Jolie, so nice to see you again.”
She walked forward with a welcoming smile, her hand extended toward Randall’s. She kept his large desk between them to forestall any kissing on the cheek nonsense. This was business. “Mr. Wallace.” She gestured to Heath. “This is my newest crew member, Heath Hamilton,” she said after shaking Randall’s hand. The men nodded at one another.
“Please sit,” Randall said. He wore a white button up shirt with long sleeves rolled to a cuff above his wrists. No tie, and the top three buttons undone. It would be a casual look, but the fabric was obviously expensive and screamed money even without cufflinks.