“Just use your captaining skill to get us out of here!” she exclaimed. Panic set in. She could not be stuck on this boat for hours with the man who oozed sex and charm and heart-squeezing sincerity. Maybe they’d be stuck all night!
They’d have to use each other for body heat, she thought darkly. She’d get sucked in. She wasn’t supposed to get sucked in. This was definitely not the right time in her life for any kind of sucking. She pressed her fingers to her temples. That sounded dirty. It was the Ty effect. She had serious decisions to make for her future and Ty could never be part of any of that.
She paced, already feeling trapped. This was supposed to be one fun date! Just dinner, maybe a goodnight kiss. She wanted light fun with Ty on her terms. These were not her terms!
She stopped pacing and stared at Ty, who was staring at the controls. “Do something!”
He mumbled something that sounded like map.
“What’re you saying?”
He spoke up. “I must’ve read the map wrong. Will uses these weird nautical maps.”
“Doesn’t everyone that drives a boat?” she screeched. She felt like smacking Ty for getting them into this situation. He had no business taking them out on this boat when he didn’t know what he was doing.
He made a palms-down gesture of let’s take it down a notch. “It’s okay. I’ll just…okay, everything will be okay. Stay calm. Let’s think this through.”
“I’m not spending the night on this boat with you.”
“This is no problem. You go relax on a deck chair while I figure this out.”
She scowled and crossed her arms. “I cannot believe you invited me on a borrowed boat that you have no idea how to drive.”
He spoke through his teeth. “I’m captaining it. Not driving. And this isn’t operator error.”
“It is operator error. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be stuck in a swamp.”
He shoved a hand in his hair. “I’m just not used to nautical maps.”
Grr…same difference. They were stuck.
She watched as Ty tried to shift them forward, reverse, sideways, everything seemed to make it worse. The boat dug deeper in the mud and the engine sounded like it was about to give up the fight and die on them.
“Stop!” she finally hollered. “You’re just getting us in deeper. Call the Coast Guard.”
He stopped. “Good idea. So let’s see.” He pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket. “Would that be nine-one-one, or ya think they have a special number?”
She looked around and spotted the radio clipped overhead. She pulled it down. “I think you’re supposed to talk into this.”
“Oh, hey, there’s a distress button. That’s convenient. I’ll just press that.” He pressed the button and waited. Nothing happened. He pressed it for a long time, released it, and the thing beeped. He turned to her. “They probably know where we are already from the GPS.”
“Why didn’t you use the GPS to navigate?”
“It seemed like a simple trip,” he replied.
She bit back a snarky remark. Of course, confident Ty would assume he could handle everything. She had to remain calm. Snark wouldn’t help them out of this situation. They had to work together.
“You think the radio is connected to the GPS?” Ty asked.
“I don’t know. I know nothing about boats.”
He stared at the radio as if it might have the answer. He pressed the button a third time, saying, “Mayday, Mayday, we’re stuck in mud—” he paused and looked over at her like maybe she knew what to say because he sure as hell didn’t “—uh, over.”
Static crackled and then a man answered, asking for their location. Ty looked around. “It’s the cove off the Harlem river.”
The guy asked for the latitude and longitude coordinates. Ty studied the map for a long time before saying, “It looks like east? It’s definitely to the right on the map. Maybe an inch from some green area. I think it’s a park.”
Charlotte’s hopes for a rescue plummeted.
Chapter Four
Charlotte stepped out on the deck and walked the perimeter of the boat. Oh, man, they were in deep, surrounded on all sides by mud. They were pretty much screwed. How had he even gotten them this far into the swamp? They weren’t all that close to shore either.
“Looks like you’re stuck!” someone hollered.
She looked over to a park on shore, where they’d attracted a crowd of curious onlookers. Lots of people having barbeques and picnics. “Yeah, we’re stuck!” she hollered back. “We called the Coast Guard!”
“That sucks,” a man said. More people gathered, pointing and talking about them.
She turned away, telling herself this would be okay. Even though Ty couldn’t figure out where they were nautically, they were close enough to shore for people to help. Maybe they’d get a rowboat out to them or a helicopter or something. No, probably a helicopter wouldn’t work. Well, something had to work because she was absolutely not spending the night with Ty on this boat.
She suddenly realized the boat was quiet. The engine was off. She headed back up to the control area to find out why. “You cut the engine, or did it die?”
Ty grimaced. “The guy on the radio said I should turn it off, so…uh, I did. And…”
“What?” she asked, already dreading whatever he was going to say next.
“Turns out the Coast Guard won’t help us.”
“They won’t help us,” she echoed.
He slowly shook his head. “We’re not an emergency. Not sinking, no fire, no injuries. They said just wait for high tide. Local cops are going to get a boat guy out to us then to help.” He glanced over to the crowd of curious people at the nearby park. “This is a little embarrassing, isn’t it?”
“It’ll be a lot less embarrassing if we can get out of here. When’s high tide?”
“They estimate approximately twelve fifteen.”
“Tonight? You mean midnight? We’re stuck here for six hours?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, and then the rescue will take a while. They need to row out to us and some expert guy who knows boats is going to maneuver us out, so-o-o, yeah. Sorry.”
“Sorry,” she echoed numbly.
He gave her ponytail a tug. “Hey, it won’t be that bad. We can find something to do, right? Just you and me stranded?” He raised his brows suggestively.
Charlotte ignored that, desperate for a better solution. “Why don’t you use your stuntman skills to jump off this boat, wade through the mud, and rescue us?”
“Sugar, I know I’m built for strength, but even I can’t push a yacht out of mud.”
“Then you can…” She gestured wildly. “You can wade to shore, get a rowboat, and rescue me.”
“Are you serious?”
“Do I look like I’m playing?” she shouted.
He huffed. “Fine.”
He headed down to the lower deck and she followed, hoping he’d pull through with his stunt skills. She peered down at the mud—dead rotting fish and a couple cans of beer.
Ty leaned over the deck railing and then did a tour around the perimeter, inspecting the mud from all sides just like she’d done earlier. He appeared back at her side. “It must be deep. You really want me jumping into this?”
“I really do,” she assured him.
He held her chin with a warm tender gaze. “I’d love to play hero for you.”
Her breath caught, surprised at the unexpected sweetness.
He dropped his hand and turned back to the mud. “Let me test it first. Never jump into a risky situation without knowing all the outcomes.”
“Uh-huh.”
He looked around and found a long pole with a curved hook attached to the side of the boat. He hauled it over the deck railing, pole first, and plunged it into the mud. She watched as it sank deep and then the mud seemed to be sucking it deeper.
“Fuck, it’s like quicksand,” he said, straining mightily to retrieve the pole. “If I get
pulled under, there’s no way to rescue me or you.”
Dammit.
He wrestled with the pole and finally yanked it free. Mud splattered all over Ty, the deck, and the side of the boat. She jumped back just in time.
He looked down at himself and then to her. He grimaced. “I need a change of clothes.”
She waved a hand in front of her nose. “You need a shower.”
He strode over to the far end of the boat and she followed automatically. “I don’t want to get their fancy bathroom dirty,” he said before pulling off the shirt, his muscles rippling with the movement. Man candy wrapped in bacon. Damn, she must really be hungry if she was fantasizing about a bacon-wrapped Ty. She was losing brain cells just looking at him. The muscle definition was spectacular—large rounded shoulders, bulging biceps covered in tribal tattoos, pecs and ridged abs tapering to a narrow waist. He kicked off his sneakers.
“Wait!” she blurted in a belated attempt at self-preservation. “What if the shower doesn’t work with the engine off?”
“It’ll work for a short while.” He stripped out of his socks and then his jeans. She got a brief glimpse of deep red boxer briefs with an impressive bulge and legs thick with muscle before she turned away. Ty kept talking. “Will’s wife wouldn’t stay overnight with the kids until she was sure it was rigged for a shower no matter what. I’m heading downstairs. Can you look around for a robe for me in the master bedroom?”
She spoke without turning around. “Sure. I’ll just give you a few minutes to get settled.”
“Stairs are right off the kitchen.”
She heard the door to the enclosed cabin open and close and waited on deck. She peeked at his pile of muddy clothes and saw the red boxer briefs on top. Oh-kay, guess the mud soaked through enough to bother him, so-o-o, that happened. She waited until she was sure he was safely in the shower and headed inside the cabin. Thankfully, it was a little warmer in the cabin than outside. She crossed through the living room to the galley kitchen and down the adjacent spiral staircase. Now why did Ty ask for a robe? He should wear clothes, the more of him covered, the better. Her willpower reserves would only weaken as the night wore on. Why make it harder on herself?
She found a bedroom with a couple of little girl outfits in it and quickly moved over to the master bedroom. Yes! She found some men’s shorts, boxers, a polo shirt, and a cardigan. She stopped to check the size because they looked kind of small. Men’s medium. That must be why Ty asked for a robe. He knew he wouldn’t fit in his friend’s stuff. She set everything on top of the dresser and pulled on the olive green cardigan, buttoning it. Ooh, soft as cashmere. Hello, she was on a yacht. It probably was cashmere. She kept looking through drawers and a closet, delusionally hopeful to cover Ty. She found a black silk robe and draped it over her shoulder. It would have to do. She held up the boxers, wondering if they would fit since they were baggy with a stretchy elastic waistband.
“No way I’m wearing another guy’s boxers,” Ty boomed. She jumped and whirled to face him where he now stood in the bedroom, wearing only a white towel around his waist. Geez, the man was like sculpted marble. Beyond any man she’d ever seen in real life. Only two scars marred his tanned skin, one on his forearm, one on his rib. Even that was sexy; he was a glorious sculpted badass. He headed straight for her, a walking aphrodisiac. She stood perfectly still, all rational thought deserting her as he closed the distance between them. He smelled so good now, fresh and clean, his dark hair slicked back. Of course, that only emphasized his chiseled cheekbones and stubbled jaw. His lips formed a smirk. Caught in the act of ogling!
She looked away, burning with lust, no sense denying it. Ty was the definition of male beauty—solid, powerful, large everywhere. Mmm, yes.
No!
This had disaster written all over it.
He plucked the robe from her shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Yes, I found a robe,” she said unnecessarily to the ceiling. Come on, brain, get back on board! She shoved the boxers back in a drawer.
“I noticed.” She could hear the smile in his voice, but didn’t trust herself with another peek at perfection.
“Meet you upstairs,” she muttered and took off.
She made a small tour of the enclosed living room/kitchen space, taking deep calming breaths. Ooh, a flat-screen TV right across from the cushy beige sofa. Then she remembered they had no power. She glanced at the now useless kitchen with its refrigerator, microwave, and stove. They also had no way to cook dinner. She checked her cell. After seven.
Ty appeared in the silk robe, his shoulders straining the fabric, but he did manage to tie it with the belt. It ended high up on his thigh. The white towel peeked out underneath. Kind of like a terrycloth kilt. She swallowed. She had a real thing for men in kilts. Not that she’d ever seen one in real life, only in romance novels. This was more like a sultan in silk with hints of Greek toga and Scottish kilt—
Ty interrupted her squirrely line of thinking. “The robe should work as long as I don’t stretch or move too much. Let’s see what we can do about dinner.”
She brightened, glad to focus on food, and joined him in the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator—empty except for the lone insulated cooler of food Ty had brought. He snagged the cooler, unzipping it so she could see—a plastic container of spaghetti sauce and a box of raw spaghetti.
“Guess I can’t cook the spaghetti,” he said, “but we could eat cold sauce.”
She took the sauce container out and tapped the frosty lid. “Frozen.” He’d left the ice pack in the cooler’s mesh pocket.
“Sauce popsicles?” he asked with a grin.
“Sure, I’d love to take turns licking a sauce cube,” she said drily.
“I’d love to watch you lick my cube.”
She stared at him, not amused.
“It’s not actually cubic.” He snorted. “That sounds…” He stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Anyway, the sauce is good. Will’s wife made it.” He took the container from her and tapped it in a few places, checking to make sure it was really frozen, she supposed. He set the container on the counter. “It’ll thaw pretty quick, right?”
“I don’t know.”
The beginnings of a low-blood-sugar headache made the reality of no food and no power stuck in the cold swamp hit her all at once. A dark cloud of irritation settled over her. This was quite possibly the worst first date she’d ever been on and she’d been on plenty of nightmare dates. One date even brought his mother to interview her (he later informed her she didn’t get the mom stamp of approval).
Think positive. First things first. Find something to eat. Surely once she ate, she’d have the resources to deal with whatever was ahead.
“Search the cabinets,” she said.
“Sure,” he said in an entirely too cheerful tone. “Let’s see what we can scrounge up.”
She got to work. Empty, empty, dishes, assorted ketchup and mustard packets, and, in a high cabinet, a small Ziploc bag with an opened bag of jellybeans inside. She pulled it out and eyed the jellybeans. Her doctor told her not to eat sugar because it made her hypoglycemia worse. She’d felt tons better since kicking the sugar habit, more energy, less moody, no more headaches.
Ty appeared at her side. “Oh, yeah. Those jellybeans were supposed to be for Will’s kid for Easter, but then he couldn’t resist and had a few. Of course, he couldn’t bring an opened bag home—clear admission of guilt—so he stashed it in the high cabinet.” At her silence, he added, “Don’t worry. He got a fresh bag for his daughter.”
“Did you find anything?” she asked, putting the jellybeans back.
“No. We pretty much cleaned it out last weekend at the party.”
She berated herself for not replenishing her purse with a snack. She’d been in a hurry today after working and then getting ready for the mud date. Augh! She could feel her blood sugar plummeting, making her feel weak and fatigued. Her headache was getting worse too. She hated feeling like this.
Damn, damn, damn.
Damn him for putting her in this situation and damn her for not being better prepared. This never would’ve happened if she hadn’t fallen for the sexy moves of a stripper dance. She should know better. Look what had happened to her mom, after all.
Chapter Five
Ty searched high and low in every spot he could think of for something to feed Charlotte. She was slumped on the sofa, arms crossed tight across her growling stomach, her lips pressed in a flat line. Terribly hangry but still sexy as hell even in Will’s sweater. This was maybe the all-time worst date he’d ever taken someone on. It had started out so promising and he’d been pretty sure he was reversing the awful first impression he’d made. At least the swamp smell didn’t reach inside the cabin. Maybe just a faint whiff. He snagged the jellybeans, determined to get some into her. This would be a really long wait stuck on a boat with a hangry woman.
He flopped next to her on the sofa. “How about strip jellybeans? We take off one item of clothing of the other person’s choosing for each piece of candy.”
She made a weird growl deep in her throat and he quickly switched gears. “Or you could just have one.” He snagged a red jellybean, holding it out to her.
She didn’t take it. “My doctor told me to avoid sugar. It messes too much with my blood sugar levels.”
“Are you diabetic?”
“No. The reverse. Hypoglycemia.”
“Oh, yeah. You mentioned that earlier. Will it kill you?”
“No.”
“Permanently damage you?”
“No, but I know it’ll mess with my sugar levels and then I’ll get shaky with the sugar crash.”
“We’ll keep a nice even supply, regular sugar infusions. These are extenuating circumstances.” When she didn’t reply, he tried another tactic. “How about this? A kiss for each jellybean I feed you.”
So Revealing (Happy Endings Book Club, Book 3) Page 4