by J. K. Hogan
Nic gripped the wheel so hard he thought it might break. He couldn’t believe his last minute charter was the airplane kid. Alone up on the flybridge, Nic wondered what forces could possibly be at work in the world to bring them, two random people from opposite sides of the country, together twice in as many days. It was like someone was trying to tell him something. Like maybe, just maybe, it was time to get over Colin.
But what Nic couldn’t figure out, was the way Justice had acted when they saw each other. He could tell the other man had wanted to act as if they’d never met before and, from the way he’d kept sneaking nervous glances at his friends, Nic assumed the worst —that Justice wasn’t out.
If there was one type of guy Nic would never mess with again, it was a closet case. Nic worked hard to make his own way in the world, and he’d suffered for it, so he sure as hell wasn’t going to hide from it as if he were ashamed of himself. Not again. Fuck that.
But there were two sides to every coin, and Justice was just so damn hot, Nic was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. It would be worth at least investigating a little.
Further thought was interrupted by the clomping of Samara’s heels on the stairs to the bridge. Nic was sure he was about to get the grilling of a lifetime. “Everything ready to set sail down there?”
Samara crossed her arms and raised a brow at him. “Misdirection? Really, Nicolas? Is this what we’ve come to?
“Sam…”
“So that was airplane boy, wasn’t it?” she asked, plunking down in the cushy seat opposite the captain’s chair.
“Yes, that was him.” Nic’s voice came out as a resigned sigh. She’d never let it go.
She clasped her hands under her chin and batted her heavily mascaraed eyelashes. “Ah, l’amour at thirty thousand feet.”
“Oh, for crying out loud…”
“Don’t worry, my pet,” she said, giving a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “He was drooling over you just as much as you were over him.”
“Really? I mean, no one is drooling over anyone.” He made as if he was snapping an imaginary whip. “Back, you crazy beast. Just because you’ve smelled fresh meat…”
“Okay, okay, I’ll leave it alone.” Her expression called her a liar. “Oh, by the way, cutie pie has the first bridge tour.”
She blew him a kiss and was gone before Nic could formulate a response.
He was so fucked.
Once everyone was settled in on the main deck, Nic fired up the engine. That deep, full-bodied rumble never failed to make him smile. Peace settled over him as he maneuvered the huge craft out of the slip and pointed her towards open water.
Gradually, the men wandered out to the open main deck, nursing the first of many drinks. From up above on the bridge, Nic was able to keep an eye on them. He wasn’t admitting to watching Justice a little more carefully than the rest. Not at all.
He mostly kept to himself, staring out over the water, looking a bit lost and lonely. When he did interact, it was mainly with either the one woman in the group, or the groom-to-be. Rory, he thought it was.
It was that inner sadness that made Nic want to grab him and hug him until he laughed. It was the trim waist, sculpted shoulders, and tight, round ass that made Nic imagine doing decidedly dirtier things to him.
He couldn’t stop himself from picturing Justice laid out on his large bed in the owner’s cabin, maybe with his wrists tied above his head, spread out and begging for it…
Nic shifted to ease the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. Christ, he’d only just learned the guy’s last name, and already he was fighting the urge to drag him downstairs and fuck him senseless.
Grateful for the distraction, Nic had to turn his attention back to driving when he had to make his way past some large freight barges. The wake left by such large vessels sent the San Valentino rocking from side to side. Nic hoped no one got seasick.
When he looked back down at the deck, Nic lost track of Justice. Rory was out there with a couple of his friends, and the smarmy suit guy who glared at Justice all the time. But Justice was gone.
A short time later, Nic heard soft footfalls on the steps behind him —definitely not Samara’s fuck-me pumps. He didn’t move from his position, with his left hand gripping the wheel and his right hand casually resting on the throttle. He just looked over his shoulder to see who it was.
Of course it was Justice, because Nic had obviously pissed off someone upstairs, to have his willpower so spectacularly tested.
Justice had ascended the stairs and stepped out onto the flybridge. He looked considerably more at ease and sure-footed than Nic would have given him credit for, based on the circumstances under which they’d met. But apparently Justice didn’t have the same affliction with boats that he did with planes.
However, he did look distinctly anxious, as if he didn’t know if he was supposed to be where he was. With the way he was dressed, he’d fit right in with the Seattle yachting set, from his expensive North Face jacket, to his chinos and Sperry Top-Siders. Nic would never make fun of a guy wearing deck shoes on his boat, because he was just grateful they wouldn’t be scuffing his fiberglass hull.
The man behind the clothes didn’t quite look comfortable in his skin. Those big green eyes were wider than ever, skin pale as he had been yesterday, and his shoulders were hunched. There wasn’t much wind that day, so Nic had to figure the kid was just trying to hide behind that posture.
“Hey,” Nic said, more to break the ice than any attempt to make conversation. “Welcome to the flybridge. Ever been up on one before?”
Justice scraped the leather toe of his shoe along the floor, and Nic gritted his teeth to keep from scolding him. He didn’t want to scare the poor guy away.
“Nope. Not on anything so big. Used to go deep-sea fishing with my dad on his little Grady-White, and I grew up on a lake, so, you know…pontoons and stuff.”
Nic nodded, because he didn’t know what else to do. This wasn’t the quirky, flirtatious kid he’d met on the plane-puking aside. He wondered what was putting the shadows under Justice’s eyes. He shouldn’t wonder. It was none of his goddamned business, but Nic never did know what was good for him.
He pulled back on the throttle, locked the wheel, and set the yacht on cruise. After that, he was able to spin his chair around and fully look at Justice. The impact of his beauty hit Nic like a punch to the gut, as did the look of abject misery on his face.
“You okay, kid?”
“’m not a kid,” he said automatically, as if he had to make the correction often. “I’m twenty-seven.”
“My apologies,” Nic said with what he hoped was a placating smile. “But, really, are you okay? You’re not going to get seasick on me, are you?”
Justice looked startled for a moment, as if he was surprised anyone noticed his mood. After that, he seemed to relax a bit. “No, I’ve never gotten seasick that I can remember. I’m just not good with the whole social scene.”
“I hear ya. I’m most at home when I’m out here on the water. It has a calming effect.”
“I noticed that.”
“So it’s just planes, then?”
“Um…pardon?”
“Well, I…uh…couldn’t help but notice that you had some issues on the plane. Nothing to be embarrassed about. But you know the odds of dying in a plane crash —”
“One in eleven million,” Justice interrupted. “Believe me, I’ve been told often enough. The flying part isn’t an issue. My anxiety comes from an entirely different, much less rational source.”
“Which is…?”
“I don’t know…my fucked up head? Genetics? The possibilities are endless.”
Justice stopped talking abruptly and his freckled cheeks pinked up. He refused to meet Nic’s eyes, instead just stared at his own shoes. It was as if he was embarrassed to have revealed so much.
“I see,” Nic said, though he wasn’t sure he did. “Well, I know that whenever I’m stressed or…whatever, b
eing out here on the water just takes it all away.”
“I could see that,” Justice said with a nod. “There’re still just too many people for that to happen with me.”
“Maybe I could take you out on my sailboat one day. Two man crew.”
Justice’s eyes shot to Nic’s, and the look of near panic on his face was almost comical. Nic knew when to backpedal.
“Hey, easy. I just meant as friends. Something fun for you to do while you’re visiting.”
“Um, sure. Maybe some time.”
Nic navigated the conversation back to safer territory, trying to put Justice back at ease. He wasn’t going to gain the kid’s trust by pushing him. When he’d set out to do so, he couldn’t be sure. “So where’re you staying?”
“A rental house in Blakeney, outside Ballard.”
“That’s a nice area.”
Justice gave a noncommittal shrug, but Nic caught him staring underneath his lashes. “You live around here?”
“Sure do. Right here.” Nic gestured to the boat beneath him.
“Here, meaning downtown Seattle? On Lake Washington?”
“Here, meaning right here. On the boat.”
Nic chuckled when Justice’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “You live on a boat? That’s just…I couldn’t…wow.”
Jesus, this kid was too cute for words, and he didn’t even realize it. Nic was in so much trouble. He decided right then and there that he was going to have to push a little. Justice was only going to be in town for a couple of weeks anyway.
“I lied before,” Nic said.
“About what?” Justice cocked his head to the right and studied Nic.
Nic bit the inside of his cheek to try and calm the erection that was trying to make itself known. Didn’t want to push him that hard. Yet.
“About the sailing. When I said it would just be as friends. Let me take you sailing, as a date.” Nic got up from his seat and closed the distance between them. He didn’t touch Justice, he only leaned in just enough to get in the guy’s space.
“I can’t…I’m not…I don’t…”
While Justice sputtered, Nic bent forward and took a deep breath in the space between his ear and shoulder. He brushed his nose along the soft skin of Justice’s neck and smiled when he felt him shudder. Then he brought his hand up to caress Justice’s cheek, gave the same cheek a little pat, and stepped back.
“Think it over, kid. We’ll talk again. You better hurry on down before you miss dinner.”
Justice gaped at him for a full minute before he turned tail and ran.
Chapter Seven
Justice stumbled down the stairs in a daze, all hot and bothered from close contact with Nic, while freaked out that they might have been seen at the same time. He ducked into the head so he could get control of his arousal.
Breathing hard, he went to the sink and splashed water on his face. He smirked at his reflection in the mirror. “Haven’t we been here before, recently?”
When his self didn’t answer, Justice rolled his eyes and shut off the water. Sitting down on the covered toilet, he rested his elbows on his thighs and put his face in his hands.
Justice felt equal parts aroused and terrified. He’d never been as attracted to anyone as he was to Nic. Just thinking about the man’s clear blue eyes and scruffy surfer boy hair got him riled up all over again. Nic was ripped for sure, not like a gym-bunny, but like someone who spent a lot of time tightening rigging and shit like that. He was solid but not bulky. He set Justice’s blood on fire.
How the hell was he supposed to be around Nic while cloistered on a boat with a bunch of straight guys who thought he was straight too? What a nightmare. As much as Justice wanted to see the guy, the best he could hope for was that Nic would stay on the bridge most of the time. That was the only way to guarantee that Justice didn’t embarrass himself, maybe by saying ‘fuck the closet’, and mauling the man.
Justice jumped a foot when someone knocked on the door. He heard Samara’s muffled but clearly worried voice through the thin wood.
“You okay in there, Justice? We’re about to serve dinner.”
Jesus, fuck, how long had he been in there? He’d lost track of how much time it took for his erection to go down, and for him to worry himself into a stupor. Clearing his throat, Justice got up off the toilet and opened the door.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thought I was getting seasick there for a minute, but I’m okay now.”
Samara raised a manicured black brow at him because, clearly, she wasn’t buying it. But she let it go. Instead, she linked arms with him and led him into the posh dining room.
“I hope you’re feeling good enough to eat dinner. We have a blackened tilapia and wasabi mash that is to die for.” She pulled out a seat for him, one of the only three left. “Sit here.”
Samara took the seat to his left, at the head of the table. Looking around, Justice realized he was the last one to come to the dining room.
“Thought we’d lost you,” Rory said, with an indulgently affectionate look. “Better now?”
Rory was mistakenly assuming that he’d had one of his panic attacks. Justice wasn’t about to correct him. He wasn’t exactly going to admit he’d had to calm himself down in the bathroom because he was lusting after the very male captain.
At that moment, Nic entered the dining room from what Justice had been told was the galley. Speak of the devil. What the hell was he doing down there? Didn’t he have to, like, drive the boat.
All heads turned towards Justice, and from the openmouthed stares, he guessed that he’d said that last bit out loud. Nice going, Rain Man, he thought. He hazarded a glance at Nic, and he was just looking back at Justice with that crooked grin. Gah! Those crows-feet got him every time.
“I’ve anchored and killed the engine, so you guys can eat dinner. After dinner, I’ll pull the anchor and we’ll drift a bit while you all have some drinks. That all right?” he asked with a chuckle.
Justice could feel himself turning red. He ducked his head and nodded. “Sounds good,” he barely whispered.
Nic crossed the room to take his seat right about when Justice realized that the only empty chair was the one right beside him. He glared at Samara, who merely blew him a kiss. He was so done for.
When the food was served, Justice found himself facing a whole new distraction. He’d never realized how erotic it was to watch someone eat. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just Nic. It seemed as though everything he did was erotic to Justice.
As Nic’s strong, tanned hands cut up his food, Justice couldn’t help imagining those hands on him. They would probably be calloused, work-roughened. He was unable to suppress the shiver of need that rippled through him.
Justice watched Nic take a bite, sliding the juicy morsel in past those full lips, closing his eyes briefly at the flavor. His chiseled jaw clenched while he chewed. His throat worked as he swallowed, and Justice barely resisted the urge to follow the path with his tongue.
“So, Mr. Crawford. Where do you come from?”
Samara’s voice startled Justice out of his imaginings, again, and his gaze flew to Nic’s. Nic gave him a cheeky grin and winked. Busted. Oh well, it wasn’t like it was a secret that he was attracted to the guy, at least from Nic, he just couldn’t show it in front of anyone —something that was becoming harder by the minute…along with other things.
“Ehrm…Sorry, what did you say?” he had to ask.
“Where do you live?”
“Oh. Uh…Charleston. South Carolina. Originally from Leedsville, but I got out of there as soon as I could.”
“Oooh, Southern boy. Mama likes.”
“So that’s where that cute accent comes from,” Nic said.
Justice nearly choked on his fish. Clearing his throat, he looked around the table to see if anyone heard. No one seemed to be paying him any attention. Except for Rich, who was frowning in their direction, as per usual.
“I guess I do have an accent. I can’t
really hear it.”
“Oh, it’s there. Trust me,” Nic said.
* * * *
The rest of dinner went much the same. Nic teased Justice and pushed his buttons whenever he could. It was never enough to out him, just enough to keep him on his toes. And lord, but he loved seeing the kid blush. He couldn’t help poking at him to see what he would do.
After dinner, the guests adjourned to the aft deck on the fantail for drinks. Nic decided to help Bobby and Samara clean up the dining room since the boat was understaffed. He and Sam stood side by side, silently washing and drying dishes.
He knew it was coming, knew she had something rattling around in that head of hers, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to squeeze it out of her. Hearing her sigh beside him, he braced himself for impact.
“Oh, Nicolas. You are so, so fucked.”
No shit. “Whatever do you mean, Samara?”
“I mean airplane boy, of course. He’s the most adorable, quirky, scared shitless little closet case I’ve ever seen in my life. What are you going to do with him?”
“Well…I thought I’d lure him down to the owner’s cabin and fuck him through the mattress.”
“Nic! I’m serious here.”
He snorted and flicked water at her. “Me too.” He wasn’t. Much.
“Hey, look, Colin really did a fucked up number on you, and that kid obviously has his own problems. I’m just asking you to be careful.”
“I will be careful, Sam, but being careful doesn’t mean holding back, for me. I want him…so I’m at least going to take a shot.”
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
Nic didn’t want to get hurt again either. Colin’s betrayal had brought him to his knees, and he wasn’t sure if he could go through something like that again. But he wasn’t going to live his life afraid of it either, and he told Samara as much.
“You know I’ll support you either way, just…you know, be careful.”
He chuckled and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I’m gonna go find my man.”
Nic checked the aft deck first. He saw Rory, Rich, and two other guys, deep in conversation. The remaining guys were crowded around Lara, vying for her attention. Nic was pretty sure they were barking up the wrong lesbian there, but he wasn’t going to be the one to burst their bubble. Lara looked like she was enjoying the attention, anyway.