Captain

by Lauren Rowe

  I let out a long exhale and shake out my arms.

  “T, there’s nothing to be nervous about. I spoke to Ryan. He still feels the same way he did in Hawaii, even more so.”

  “He said that?”

  Josh nods. “And wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it.”

  I laugh. “Thank you, Josh.”

  “My pleasure.” He stands. “Now, come on, Miss Rodriguez. Time to bag yourself an amazing dude.”

  I stand. “Okay, Mr. Faraday. Let’s do this.”

  Josh’s phone beeps and he looks down at it. “Oh, speak of the devil. Ryan says he’s already at the bar, waiting for us. I’ll tell him we’re on our way.” He punches out a message as we walk toward the door of his office.

  “Where are we meeting him?”

  Josh grins. “The Pine Box.”

  Chapter 67

  Tessa

  Josh parks his Lamborghini in a paid lot across the street from The Pine Box (and, of course, pulls a total “Josh” by slipping the attendant a hundred bucks to park it in a spot far away from any other car) and the two of us walk toward the bar. When we reach the front entrance, Kat’s already standing on the sidewalk in front of it, a huge smile on her gorgeous face, her hair glittering like gold in the late afternoon sun, her slender palms resting on her bump.

  Kat and I exchange hugs and kisses and chat breezily for several minutes about the honeymoon and the baby and about how Kat knew “the second” she met me I was “perfect for” Ryan. Finally, when I feel like I’m gonna explode if I don’t get my ass inside that bar and throw myself at Ryan, Josh puts his arm around his chatty wife’s shoulders, guides her bulging frame toward a coffee place a few doors down, and leaves me to my mission.

  I step inside the bar and pause for a half-second to let my eyes adjust to the dim light—and when they do, I’m shocked to find there’s nobody inside the place except for two stark figures: a bartender dressed in black behind the bar and... the man I love. Captain Ryan Ulysses Morgan. He’s sitting on the same stool he occupied when I first beheld his heart-stopping image three months ago, and looking even more perfect to me today than he ever did that night.

  When Ryan spies me standing inside the door, his gorgeous face breaks into a beaming, wide smile. He stands and motions to the stool next to him—and I stride toward him, feeling like he’s pulling me on a string.

  When I reach Ryan, I wordlessly throw myself into his open arms, press my aching, yearning body into his, and kiss his magical lips like I’ve never kissed any man before.

  “I love you,” Ryan murmurs into my lips, his warm breath tickling my skin.

  “I love you so much,” I reply, my heart leaping, my tears flowing. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I love you.”

  Ryan tightens his grip around me and presses his body firmly into mine. “There’s nothing to forgive. Oh, God, baby, I’ve missed you so much.”

  It’s easily the most electric moment of my entire life.

  “I was just scared,” I gasp, my entire body trembling. “I’m a loon.”

  He chuckles and nuzzles his nose into mine and his stubble rubs softly against my chin. “It’s okay. If you’re a loon, I don’t care. I love it all.”

  “I’m not scared anymore,” I whisper. “I trust you. I love you. I want to be with you.”

  He cups my face in his palms, his blue eyes blazing. “I’ll never hurt you, Tessa—I promise I’ll always be worthy of your trust. I can’t live without you.”

  “Me, either,” I agree, tears streaking out of my eyes.

  Ryan’s face lights up. “You mean that?”

  I nod.

  He kisses me deeply, his body quite plainly telling me what’s in his heart, his lips devouring me, our physical connection more powerful than any words could ever be. After several moments of passionate, elated kissing, we somehow manage to peel our lips apart and sit our bodies down onto our stools, our fingers interlaced, our chests heaving, our faces on fire.

  “I just needed time to process,” I explain. “It’s my Achilles’ heel: I make snap-decisions at work every day, but when it comes to my emotions, I can’t do it.”

  “I understand,” he says. “I mind-fucked you. I justified it in my head as the end justifying the means, but the bottom line is I wasn’t completely honest with you. I won’t do that again. I’ll always tell you the whole truth from now on.”

  “I understand why you did it,” I say. “Honestly, you played me exactly right. If you’d told me everything right up front, I probably would have freaked out.”

  He laughs. “You definitely would have.”

  We share a smile.

  He sighs. “Babe, that phone call. I still can’t—”

  “I know it was Charlotte,” I say, cutting him off.

  “She told you?”

  “No. Charlotte’s on a cruise with her parents—no cell phone service.”

  Ryan palms his forehead.

  “Josh told me about Charlotte after Kat told him.”

  “Oh my God, my sister is such a fucking blabbermouth!” he says, shaking his head. “Please don’t be pissed at Charlotte. I sweet-talked her.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you did. I’m not mad. Obviously, my best friend knows me better than I know myself. Oh my God, I’ve missed you.” With that, I grab Ryan’s beautiful face and kiss him again and again, until the bartender comes over and politely asks if we’d like to order drinks, which we do.

  “Isn’t it weird nobody else is here?” I ask as the bartender walks away, looking around at the empty bar.

  Ryan shrugs. “It’s a weekday, middle of the afternoon.”

  “Yeah, but shouldn’t there at least be a couple other people here? Whatever they’re doing at this place for marketing, let’s do the opposite for Captain’s.”

  “Does that mean you’re on board to be a part-owner?”

  I nod enthusiastically. “You’d be okay with that?”

  “Baby, I wouldn’t have it any other way. As far as I’m concerned, we’re a team, me and you, from now on.”

  We kiss again, elation flooding us—and when the bartender returns with our drinks, we disengage again, laughing at ourselves.

  “You know, the last time we sat on these exact stools together, we weren’t properly introduced,” Ryan says. “I think we should do it now, you know, to get off on the right foot this time.”

  I giggle and put out my hand. “Hey, good-lookin’. My name is Tessa Rodriguez. I’m a personal assistant to this guy named Josh Faraday. I live in Seattle and I’m most definitely not a flight attendant.”

  Ryan takes my hand. “Ryan Morgan.”

  “Morgan? Any relation to Kat Morgan?”

  “Why, yes. She’s my little sister.”

  “Oh my gosh. What are the odds? My boss is marrying your sister!”

  “Imagine that!”

  We both laugh.

  “Can you imagine if our first conversation had gone like that?” Ryan says. “Would have saved me a whole lot of time.”

  “No, it would have been the end of us. If I’d known you were Kat’s brother right off the bat, I would have run like hell.”

  “Nah. We’re fate, baby. We would have found our way to each other, regardless.”

  I feel myself blushing.

  “So, hey, Tessa Rodriguez, it’s nice to meet you,” Ryan says, resuming our little role-play. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?”

  I take a sip of my drink. “What would you like to know?”

  “Oh, I dunno.” He smiles playfully. “How about you just give me a brief overview?”

  “A brief overview?” I say, matching his playful tone. “Dang it! The one time I didn’t bring a Power Point presentation with me to a bar and the hottest guy in the place asks me for a ‘brief overview’? I knew I should have brought my laptop with me today.”

  Ryan bites his lower lip. “Shoot. I sound like I’m conducting a job interview, don’t I? Sorry.”

  “It’s oka
y. It happens.”

  “You know what?” Ryan says. “As long as I’m conducting a job interview here, why don’t I ask you one of the all-time, classic job-interview questions?”

  I take a happy sip of my drink. “Hit me.”

  “Where do you see yourself in five years, Tessa?”

  I smile. “That’s easy. Co-owning a fabulously successful bar named Captain’s with multiple locations.”

  Ryan’s cheeks flush. “And... in your... personal life?”

  My heart lurches into my throat. I know exactly where I see myself in five years in my personal life—married to Ryan with a baby or two—but there’s no effing way I’m gonna say that after such a short amount of time together, no matter how enthusiastically the man just declared his love for me. “Um, you first,” I choke out.

  Ryan chuckles to himself. “Damn, I love how predictable you are sometimes, Argentina—it’s like we choreographed this conversation.” He takes my hands and looks into my eyes. “In five years, I see myself married to you. I see us changing two sets of diapers with more babies on the horizon. I see us sitting down for Thanksgiving at my parents’ house and going to football games on Sundays and soccer games on whatever-the-fuck-days they play soccer. And I see us making love every night, sometimes as me and you, sometimes as Ulysses and Samantha—and maybe sometimes as characters we have yet to create—but always, always lighting the world on fire. I see myself loving you, and protecting you, and making your happiness in life my top priority. And, most of all, I see myself as the luckiest man alive.”

  My jaw is hanging open. My heart is medically palpitating. My eyes are full of tears.

  “Do you see any of that, too?” he asks softly.

  I nod.

  “How much of it?” he asks.

  I can barely speak. “All of it.”

  Ryan exhales like the weight of the world has just been lifted off him. “Thank God.” He takes a deep breath. “Then, in my opinion, we shouldn’t wait to get this show on the road. Do you agree?”

  I open my mouth and close it, not quite sure what he means. Because if he means he’s gonna... Wait. No. Please, God, don’t let him do it now. I haven’t even introduced him to my family yet! I couldn’t possibly say yes to Ryan without my family’s blessing, no matter how much I love him! Shit, shit, shit! “Ryan,” I gasp. “Wait.”

  Ryan touches my cheek. “Ssh.”

  “But Ryan,” I persist. I want to tell him my ultimate answer is going to be yes—of course—but that my father is traditional and I don’t feel comfortable leaping into any kind of official arrangement without certain respects being paid. I want to tell him not to ask me yet because I never want to say no to him—Oh, God, never!—but that I can’t possibly—

  “Tessa,” Ryan says. “I can see your mind is racing, baby.” He chuckles. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna ask you right now. I’m not stupid.”

  I exhale with relief.

  “I know certain things have to be done before we get there, don’t worry.”

  My entire body relaxes.

  “And I also know you’re probably gonna need some time to ‘process’ before you can say yes to me. So, just to get you mentally prepared for when I eventually pop the question, whenever that’s gonna be in the future, no rush, I’ve prepared a little Power Point presentation to help you with your ultimate decision-making.”

  “A Power Point?” I ask.

  “A Power Point,” he says matter-of-factly. “Now, come on, have a seat over here and watch my presentation and hear me out.”

  I freeze, suddenly worried he’s gonna ask me now, even though he just said he isn’t.

  “Sweetheart,” he says, pulling me up and guiding me toward a chair near a white wall. “I’m not gonna ask you anything yet. I’m gonna show you a silly little Power Point, just for fun. Okay? Now, please, have a seat and keep an open mind.”

  Chapter 68

  Ryan

  Tessa looks around at the empty bar as she takes a seat. “You rented this place out, didn’t you? I can’t believe it could possibly be this empty by chance.”

  I wink. “I thought we could use a little privacy. Hey, let’s get you a drink while I get my Power Point set up.”

  “You’re seriously gonna show me a Power Point presentation here?”

  “Yup.” I signal the bartender and he comes over to take Tessa’s drink order, and as he gets her situated, I quickly set up my laptop and a projector, and place two previously stowed bowls on the bar.

  Once everything’s all set up, I grab the small remote for the projector, position myself like a professor next to my “screen” (a white wall I’ve cleared of framed posters), and turn to face Tessa. “Okay, sweetheart,” I say. “Please watch my presentation without commenting. Any thoughts, questions, objections, or stressed-out reactions may be offered at the end. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise?”

  She leans back, smiling. “Promise.”

  I take a deep breath and click the button on my remote control, and the title slide projects onto the wall next to me: “The Top Ten Reasons Why You Should Say ‘Hell Yes!’ When I Ask You to Marry Me.”

  Tessa lets out a little yelp. “Ryan. Wait.”

  I put my index finger to my lips. “This is just getting you primed and ready for my eventual proposal, okay? I know how much you like having time to ‘process’ before making major decisions, so I’m getting your gears turning nice and early.” (I’m lying about that, of course—I’m not walking out of this place without a fiancée. But I swear it’s the last little white lie I’ll ever tell her.)

  Tessa’s shoulders relax. She nods.

  I hit the button for the first slide and up it comes: “Reason One: If you marry me, your family will be thrilled.”

  Tessa looks at me quizzically, her lips parted in surprise.

  I tell her about my recent dinner with her family in L.A., scrolling through photos of our smiling families together as I do. “And when I asked your parents for their blessing,” I say, “they said that, although the decision is yours (of course), they’d be ‘thrilled’ to welcome me and my entire family into yours.”

  Tessa opens her mouth like she’s going to speak and then, without warning, bursts into tears.

  Damn, I’m good. Do I know my girl or what?

  I move to her and stroke her back and kiss the top of her head as she cries and thanks me profusely for doing that, my heart melting and leaping, all at once.

  “You ready for the next slide, love?” I ask. “That was just my opening salvo.”

  “They’re not all gonna make me sob, are they?”

  “I make no promises.” I bring the next slide up: “Reason Two: If you marry me, my family will be thrilled.” I grin at her. “Do you have any idea how many times in Hawaii members of my family ordered me to make a move on you? Oh my God. They must have thought I had absolutely zero game the way I kept putting them off.”

  She laughs.

  “Tessa, seriously, everyone desperately wants you to be a part of our family, through any means necessary. Worst case scenario, I truly think they’d be willing to pair you off with Keane, if it would mean bringing you into the fold.”

  She laughs again.

  I click the remote control and bring up the third slide: “Reason Three: If you marry me, I’ll make you my world-famous guacamole any time you like.”

  “Wow.”

  “Of course, you can’t appreciate the enormity of this promise until you’ve tasted my guacamole. So...” I grab two bowls off the bar—one filled with tortilla chips and the other with my famous guacamole. “I made you a batch. I promise, once you’ve tasted this guac, you’ll understand what I’m offering you here.”

  Dutifully, Tessa dips a chip into the bowl of guacamole and pops it into her mouth—and her entire face lights up. “Nirvana,” she gushes. “Best guacamole I’ve ever tasted. You were right about the cumin.”

  “Now, just imagine being married to
the guy who made that—and then imagine him making it for you any time you want. That’d be a truly happy life, wouldn’t it?”

  “It’d be the happiest life I could possibly imagine.”

  Oh my God. My heart leaps. Did she just tell me she’s gonna say yes? Holy fuck, I think she did!

  I click to the next slide, my heart racing: “Reason Four: Based on objective facts and figures and numbers, you should definitely marry me.” I quickly scroll through a series of slides riddled with pie-charts, graphs, and figures, all of them extolling the scientifically supportable benefits of marriage from social, health, and economic perspectives, plus a whole bunch of ridiculous numbers having to do with me, personally (things like my height, weight, IQ, street address, and SAT score).

  “The night we met right over there,” I say, pointing toward the stools, “you told me guacamole alone wouldn’t be enough to make you fall in love with me. You said you’d also need facts and figures, in order to satisfy your pesky left-brain. Well, here you go, my love—and, as you can see, the numbers don’t lie. Marriage is the only logical thing for us to do, objectively.’”

  “Oh, Ryan,” she says, her eyes sparkling, her smile beaming.

  I click to the next slide, a lump in my throat: “Reason Five: If you marry me, you’ll receive a lifetime supply of Morgan-family perks.”

  “Where do I sign up?” she blurts, making my heart leap.

  I clear my throat. “Said perks include, but are not limited to, the following: one, lifetime tickets to any 22 Goats show, anywhere in the world, including backstage passes. Two, Momma Lou’s famous cooking at frequent family meals, including, but not limited to, her famous lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs, and turkey chili. Three, fishing with my dad and Colby, any time you’d like (asterisk: not to exceed one day of fishing per month).”