“Yer learning to cook, Tar Stain?” Pirate Sven inquired with a grin and a raised brow.
“Yesssssss,” Keith hissed, giving Kurt the finger. “Don’t you teach that cooking shite in Pirate Sven School?”
“Aye,” the Pirate said. “It’s the first cooking lesson. After ye learn how to wash yer own dirty grundies.”
“You see, Ariel?” Keith said, puffing out his muscular chest and clearly trying to impress. “I’m becoming a real man. I haven’t cried yet, but I’m going to cut back on trimming shrubs into penises and I’m going to refrain from toilet papering people’s yards before monsoons.”
I bit back my grin with effort. He was an idiot, but I was pretty sure he was my idiot and I was strangely happy about that. Note to self… make that therapy appointment.
“Can I ask ye a question, little Mermaid?” Pirate Sven inquired, placing a beautifully arranged cheese and fruit tray in front of me.
“Sure.”
“How did ye get to Paradise Island? It’s not an easy place to find—at all.”
All of a sudden three sets of curious male eyes were on me. Should I come clean now? Or later?
Later. Definitely later.
Or maybe never.
I promised Kate I wouldn’t reveal her and Kenny’s whereabouts. I’d be breaking my word if I even mentioned them. Crap. And I certainly wasn’t going to share that I’d cried seven dumbass tears into the ocean and got caught up in a love tsunami of my own making.
As I picked up a grape and popped it in my mouth, I wanted to cry. What if Keith was my true love and I really wasn’t his? I should have asked Kate the particulars on the seven tear drop thing. Now I was sure I couldn’t share the way I’d gotten here.
“Umm… I swam here,” I kind of lied.
“Impossible. Are you serious?” Keith asked, shocked.
“Nope, I’m Ariel,” I replied taking a page from Pirate Doug’s book. “And it doesn’t matter how I got here. It matters why I’m here.” Changing the subject was necessary. Tackling Keith to the ground and telling him he was my true love in front of his brother and a Pirate Crab with pinchers for hands could end in tragic embarrassment.
“You came to remove Keith’s Johnson?” Kurt asked with a grin.
“Umm… no, but that option is always on the table,” I said with a laugh. “My reason is far more important than that.”
“What could be more important than my Johnson?” Keith asked, perplexed.
“Tar Stain,” Pirate Sven growled. “Tis not how ye should talk to a lady.”
“My bad,” Keith said. “But I feel it’s a legit question. Should I rephrase it?”
“Nay,” Pirate Sven said, still eyeing me strangely. “Me thinks ye should shut yer cakehole.”
The Pirate knew I was lying. However, I wasn’t sure I could trust the Pirate to keep my secret. Lying sucked. Keeping track of lies was way harder than telling the truth. Whatever. I always kept my word. Plus, I really did have an excellent reason for being here.
“I’m looking for the Kraken Whisperers,” I said, ignoring Pirate Sven’s stare. “And Pirate Doug thinks it might be Keith and Kurt.”
“Ye know Pirate Doug?” Pirate Sven asked.
“I do.”
“Are you dating this Pirate Doug?” Keith yelled and slammed the bowl of chips down on the table causing them to fly everywhere.
“Umm… no,” I said, trying not to laugh at the absurdity. “However, if I was I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
“Can he cook?” Keith demanded.
“Aye he can,” Pirate Sven said with an evil little smirk. “And the old scallywag also knows how to wash his grundies and keep a clean house.”
Well, that was pushing it a little. My guess was that Pirate Sven had never been on my brother-in-law’s ship…
“Motherfucker,” Keith yelled as got up and went to the front closet. He grabbed a vacuum, a broom and a rake.
Why did he need a rake?
In a huff of seriously misplaced jealousy, Keith did the shittiest job of cleaning up his mess I’d ever witnessed. He stared at me the entire time so I didn’t miss a second of his efforts. It was so wrong it was all kinds of right. My insides tingled hoping this meant he really liked me.
“Done,” he shouted and then proceeded to rake the carpet like a madman.
It took everything I had not to tell him Pirate Doug was mated to my sister, but I held my tongue. I needed to focus on the matter at hand, not getting into Keith’s pants. Not to mention maybe that was all he wanted from me… Maybe Keith’s true love was still out there. The thought was so horribly depressing I pushed it away. I could still save my sisters and my island even if my ever after wasn’t so happy after all.
“So little Mermaid, ye think the eejits can whisper to the Krakens?” Pirate Sven said, seating himself on the couch and looking away from the disastrous clean up job Keith was performing.
I was pretty sure it must be killing the old Pirate, but he was doing the best he could.
“I hope so,” I said. “My Island is about to be attacked by an army of Krakens in three days. I was sent here to find the Kraken Whisperers and get their help.”
“Wait a minute,” Keith shouted, throwing the rake and breaking a lamp. “You didn’t come here because you couldn’t forget how freakin’ fantastic and enormous my Johnson was and still is?”
“Umm…” I didn’t know exactly what to say to that. It kind of awkward with his brother and Pirate Sven sitting in the room. “You have a…umm… very, umm… nice Johnson.”
“Better than Pirate Doug’s?” Keith demanded.
Pirate Sven’s belly laugh clued me into the fact that he was definitely aware that Pirate Doug and I were not an item. The old Crab was enjoying the show—a little too much.
“Could we please have a moment alone?” I asked Kurt and Pirate Sven.
“Aye,” the Pirate said and grabbed Kurt by the collar of his shirt. “Come on Tar Stain number two. We’re gonna let the lass talk to the eejit.”
“Can we eavesdrop?” Kurt whispered as Pirate Sven tossed him out the front door.
“Nay, ye yellow bellied finless shark swisher. Ye are gonna get started on the laundry.”
“How is that fair?” Kurt grumbled. “Keith gets to talk to a beautiful Mermaid and I get to wash clothes? Life fucking sucks.”
“Quit yer bitchin’,” Pirate Sven grunted as they disappeared outside.
“Am I in trouble?” Keith whispered, covering his Johnson with the bowl that formerly held the kale chips.
“You are,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “Do not ever in this lifetime ask me about your Johnson in front of people again. Next time you do that, I will zap your ass.”
“Will it hurt?” he asked, biting back what I was sure was a smile.
“Yep.”
“Can I make an observation?” he asked, letting the sexy little grin pulling at his lips widen.
Dang it, all I could look at was his mouth. His lips were so damned kissable and I was well aware that he could do incredible things with that mouth. I needed to focus. If I was going to save the day, I couldn’t get fixated on the gorgeous Selkie no matter how much I wanted to.
“Is it about your Johnson?” I asked, slapping my hands on my hips and so I wouldn’t use them to blast his Johnson off his body. As angry as I was with him, I really did like his Johnson.
“Not exactly,” he hedged.
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“We’re alone,” he pointed out.
“So?”
“So can we talk about my Johnson now?”
“NO. We cannot talk about your Johnson,” I snapped and turned around so he wouldn’t see that I was trying not to laugh. The Selkie was every kind of inappropriate and ridiculous and I loved it.
“How about this?” Keith bargained. “You give me a chance to prove I’m a better bet than Pirate Doug. Let me show you how much I’ve improved… or how much I plan to. I just s
tarted so I’m still a little iffy on the skills.”
“You would do that for me?” I asked, wanting to jump his bones and tell him he was mine.
“Ariel, since the night we boinked, all I’ve thought about was you. I really tried not to because dreaming about a Mermaid that tried to lop off my Johnson is a little nightmare inducing… but I can’t get you out of my mind. I don’t want to get you out of my mind.”
“Really?” I whispered.
“Really. And I’ve had a tremendously shitty day. My parents deserted Kurt and me and left us to starve to death. I blew up the kitchen with the microwave. I almost had to touch lobster balls and I found out my Poseidon given gift was talking to fucking fish. But the upside of that is I now have a job—a weird one, but that kind of fits. However, I’m a little off my game right now. Also, I drew a mustache and zits on Kevin Costner and I’m feeling kind of bad about that. Finding you dead on the beach was like a fucking spectacular dream come true.”
The sentiment was good even if the words were wonky. “Wait. Kevin Costner let you draw a mustache and zits on him?” I asked, confused.
“No,” Keith explained. “The grumpy jackhole Pirate has a Waterworld obsession along with a fixation on Mormon dust bunnies. He has a fucking frightening enormous poster of Kevin Costner in his bedroom and I might have taken a green marker to it.”
“That’s creepy,” I said with a shudder.
“That I drew on Kevin Costner?”
“No, that Kevin Costner watches Pirate Sven sleep.”
Keith’s grin couldn’t have been any wider and his joyous laugh filled the room. I had no idea what I’d said to make him so happy, but it felt awesome.
“What do you think of the movie Waterworld?” he asked.
“I think it sucks ass,” I replied before I could stop myself. I hoped like hell it wasn’t his favorite movie. It would simply not work out for us if that were the case.
“You. Are. Perfect,” he shouted and picked me up and swung me around like a doll.
Squealing with laughter, I’d never felt more alive. It was freakin’ fantastic and then it got even better.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he said. “I have to.”
“We can’t,” I whispered as I quickly pushed him away. It was one of the hardest things I’d done to date.
“Is Pirate farking Doug coming between us?” he demanded, pouting.
It took everything I had not to fall to the floor in hysterics. “Umm… no,” I said, biting back my giggle. “It’s because I have to save the day. I can’t let the Mystical Isle be destroyed by Krakens. It’s my home and my sisters and friends are there.”
Keith pressed his forehead to mine and sighed. I almost stripped him naked and rode him like a sea horse, but thankfully he started to speak.
“How about this? I help you with the Krakens and then you let me woo you,” he said, so excited that my heart fluttered. “I will prove that I’m far superior to Pirate Doug and then we can have a Johnson party to celebrate. Sound good?”
“Yes,” I said, laughing. “That sounds perfect.”
Maybe, just maybe I could make him fall in love with me for me. No Mermaid magic involved.
Maybe…
12
Keith
Staring at Ariel was my new favorite hobby. She was magnificent in the blue sarong and sequined bikini top that Pirate Sven had whipped up for her on his sewing machine. I was a little horrified at the fact that the Pirate had a sewing machine and knew how to use it, but I kept my cakehole shut since I knew how hard the Crab could punch. Ariel was so delighted with the creation it had me wondering if I should learn how to fucking sew.
The early morning sunlight caught her wild blue hair and made it shine like the sea. Her matching eyes sparkled and her excitement made me feel like I had a freakin’ purpose in life. It also made my pants extremely uncomfortable. My Johnson had been on high alert since the moment I found her dead on the beach. All of these feelings were strange, and required thinking which I believed to be overrated, but I planned on winning. If thinking was involved, so be it.
There were only two ways Ariel could have gotten to Paradise. One, someone who lived on the island would have had to bring her here. Not a possibility. They would have stayed and made sure she was okay. Selkies might be a violent bunch of assholes, but we all had a soft spot for injured innocents and sexy Mermaids.
Two…
Number two was interesting. It had to do with a Selkie legend that I’d thought was a myth. However, right now I was praying to Poseidon’s inebriated ass it wasn’t. If Ariel had cried seven tears into the ocean, the waves would have picked her up and brought her to her true love—which had better be me.
I wasn’t quite sure if she was aware of this and I didn’t want to freak her out. I’d known she was mine the minute I’d laid eyes on her the first time we’d met. I’d just screwed it up. Seeing her again solidified it. This time I was going to get the girl. I just needed her to give up her affections for the Pirate Doug motherfucker and realize I was her Selkie true love.
“Here are the rules,” Pirate Sven announced as we stood on the deck of his ship that he kept moored at the Paradise Island dock. “Ye will lift the toilet seat when ye take a whizz. Ye will put it back down when ye are done so the wee lassie doesn’t fall in.”
“I can do that,” Kurt said. “Although it might be helpful if you put directions above the toilet.”
“Aye, good thinking,” Pirate Sven said, nodding with approval.
Kurt was such a douche nozzle kiss ass. Remembering to put the seat down was going to be difficult for me, but I would try.
“Is it okay if we whizz off the side of the ship?” I inquired. It would save me from leaving the seat up and getting my butt handed to me by both Pirate Sven and Ariel. My ideas were outstanding.
“Well, if ye whizz in the wind thars a fine chance it will blow back and ye will smell like peepee. The choice is yars, Tar Stain,” Pirate Sven said with a chuckle.
Maybe my ideas weren’t that outstanding. Shite.
The wind was picking up and the foamy tipped waves rocked the anchored ship. Whizzing off the side was out. Smelling like peepee wasn’t going to help me seduce my Mermaid.
I’d gotten very little sleep since the old Crab made Kurt and me sleep on crappy uncomfortable cots in his room—very clean but seriously uncomfortable. Fucking Kevin Costner had given me the evil eye all night—totally creepy.
Thankfully Pirate Sven thought ole Kev looked good with a mustache and freckles. There was no way in Poseidon’s salty sea I was going to correct him and explain they were zits.
I had a job and a purpose in life now. For some stupid reason I wanted the Crab’s approval as much as I wanted my Mermaid’s affections—and to see her naked.
Pirate Sven had given Ariel the guest room and forbade me from sneaking in there. The motherhumper slept with his dang eyes open and every time I’d tried to slip out and see my Mermaid, he’d walloped me on the head. Not real conducive to a good night’s rest.
“Do you know how to get to the Mystical Isle?” Ariel asked the Crab.
“Do the peg-legged salty nards of a frigate dodging scuttle hound smell like dish soap?” Pirate Sven questioned.
We all stood silently and tried to figure out what the hell he’d just said.
Shaking his head, he sighed. “Aye. I know how to take ye to the Mystical Isle. Used to court a Sea Hag not far from the Isle.”
“I’m sorry. What?” Ariel choked out. “A Sea Hag?”
“Aye,” Pirate Sven said. “Do ye know of a bonny lass by the name of Bony Velma Dustface?”
Ariel went slightly pale and nodded her head.
“Do ye know if she is being wooed by anyone at the moment?”
“I’m gonna say no to that one,” Ariel told him.
“Me likes yer answer. Me thinks I might pay Bony Velma a visit when we get there,” he said with a satisfied grin and then off went to prepare the sh
ip.
“Sweet Poseidon in a bra and panties,” Ariel choked out on a whisper. “Bony Velma smells like Hell on garbage day in August. I can’t see Pirate Sven popping that.”
“The Crab has no sense of smell,” Kurt said. “He told me last night when I was forced at fist point into doing our fucking laundry. Which by the way, asssprinkler—you’re welcome.”
“Thank you crotch rocket blaster,” I told my brother with a grin.
My clothes weren’t quite as soft and sweet smelling as when our mother washed them, but they were clean.
“Was it hard?” I asked, curious.
“Nope,” Kurt replied, ridiculously proud of himself. “Way easier than using the fucking microwave. You just set a fire, put a pot of water on it and throw the clothes in.”
“Interesting,” I said. “What say you I learn to cook and you wash our grundies?”
“Deal.”
“I guess it’s a Pirate thing,” Ariel muttered, shaking her head.
“What?” I asked, wondering if she would sneak down to a cabin below with me.
“Boiling your clothes,” she replied with a giggle. “It’s how Pirate Doug, Thornycraft, Upton and Bonar wash their clothes.”
Closing my eyes, I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose and reminded myself that it probably wouldn’t earn me any points to throw a shite fit of epic proportions. Now she tells me she’s dating four Pirates? And one is named Bonar? Whatever. I was a Selkie. Selkies were superior to Pirates in every way. I would out cook, out clean and out fornicate any Pirate any day of the week.
“I’d prefer you not talk about your other boyfriends in front of me,” I ground out through clenched teeth.
“Really, buttwaffle?” she said, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Yesssss,” I hissed.
“Fine,” she said with a shrug and lifted her middle finger.
“Good one, Ariel,” Kurt said, congratulating my Mermaid on the buttwaffle insult. I thought it was impressive as well, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
Ariel’s Antics: Sea Shenanigans, Book 2 Page 10