Veritas

by Duncan, MJ

  Lunch was definitely a more active affair than Lauren was used to, but the boys’ excitement over being on “a real sailboat” was palpable, and she found her own anticipation for the trip building as she listened to them talk about everything they hoped to see and do. She was no stranger to being on the water, but the Caribbean promised far more adventure than the lake she had grown up on could ever do, and by the time the burgers and oven fries were polished off, she was just as ready as the kids were to get underway.

  Lauren collected everybody’s plates and carried them into the kitchen, waving off Kim’s offer to help, though she did smile gratefully at Grey when the brunette brought all the condiments inside and put them back in the fridge. Lauren rinsed off the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher, and she was pleasantly surprised when Grey picked up a dishtowel to dry the baking sheet for her. “Thank you,” Lauren murmured as she watched Grey put the baking sheet away in its proper place.

  Grey glanced at Lauren and nodded as she hooked the door shut with her heel. She was halfway to the sliding doors by the time the cabinet door clicked shut, the magnet in the frame holding it closed. She did not look back as she wandered through the salon to the back deck, and she took a deep breath as her eyes swept over the familiar contours of the marina. The promise of having the wind in her face as they skipped across the sea made the weight that had settled on her chest all morning completely disappear, and she was suddenly itching to go. To motor to the mouth of the harbor, hoist the mainsail, and let the wind carry her away. Even the sound of Lauren’s quiet footsteps coming out of the salon behind her did little to dampen her spirits, and Grey was still smiling when she turned to look at her. “Can you throw the lines?”

  Lauren’s breath hitched at the sight of Grey’s smile. Grey was radiant. Her smile was wide, carefree, and brimming with a zest for adventure, and Lauren was shocked at how strongly she reacted to it. She stared into Grey’s eyes that seemed to sparkle, and nodded once, not trusting herself to speak.

  “All right. Start with the bow, then do the spring line, and save the stern for last. I’ll be up on deck following you, so you can just toss them to me, okay?” Grey’s smile grew wider when she was answered with another small tip of Lauren’s head. “Awesome. Wait for me to get up to the helm before you throw the stern line, just in case the current decides to do something weird. As soon as you get the last one free, jump onto the dive platform and make sure you keep the line away from the props.”

  “I got it.” The skin on Lauren’s arm tingled where it brushed against Grey’s as she edged past her, and she shook her head as she hurried down the stairs to jump onto the dock.

  Lauren worked quickly, untying the lines and tossing them up to Grey, who coiled them around her arm before stowing them safely away, and less than five minutes later, she was back on the small square dive platform with the stern lines in her hands. She wrapped the ropes around her elbow and fist as she made her way up to the deck, dropped them into the small storage compartment Grey had left open for her, and flipped it closed with the side of her foot.

  The Muellers were sitting at the starboard-side table on the back deck, looking out over the harbor with wide, eager eyes as Grey began pulling smoothly away from the dock. Wanting to give the family some space to enjoy the start of their vacation, but still wanting to experience the departure for herself, Lauren made her way along the port-side hull to the trampolines that stretched across the bow.

  Standing at the helm up on the bridge, Grey stared out over the horizon, feeling more content than she had all day. The wheel beneath her hands was solid and warm, and she could feel the pull of current sliding around the rudders. She was in her element, totally in-control of everything, and she relished the calm that knowledge gave her.

  Sailing had always been her escape. She had spent her childhood on the much cooler waters off the coast of Rhode Island racing two-man catamarans with her father, and when she had gone west to UC San Diego for college, she spent the majority of her weekends at Mission Bay sailing casually around the bay or taking on whomever she could goad into a race. Salt water ran in her veins, and when she was away from the sea for too long, she would actually become ill.

  Movement in her periphery drew her eyes down, and she held her breath as she watched Lauren lower herself gracefully onto the starboard trampoline. Though she would be the first to say that the twelve years she had spent since college sailing the Caribbean had been a dream, the last three had been more of a nightmare: an all-encompassing, never-ending horror that she could not escape.

  She thought she had been doing a decent job deluding herself into believing that she was okay, that the alcohol and the faceless women she lost herself in were enough—until she walked into the salon earlier that morning to find Lauren Murphy staring at the galley like it was the most incredible thing she had ever seen. Lauren’s fiery red curls had thrown a blinding spotlight on her futile struggle to forget, and she was left wondering how she had ever managed to convince herself that she was okay.

  Chapter 6

  The back deck of the Veritas was bathed in a combination of light from the moon overhead and the warm glow of the lights from the salon that spilled through the open sliding doors. The sun had set half an hour earlier, leaving the sky a mix of blues and blacks, dotted by stars that burned brightly in the darkening heavens. Lauren spent the afternoon in the kitchen finishing the prep she had not done earlier that day, while Grey busied herself with making sure the sails and rigging were all properly stored after their afternoon at sea and the Muellers spent the time in the water: swimming, jumping off the side of the boat, and teaching the boys how to snorkel.

  Grey hummed quietly under her breath as she popped the last bite of her Mahi-Mahi into her mouth and chewed it slowly, letting the flavors of the lemon-soy marinade and the pineapple salsa Lauren had piled on top of the fish flood her taste buds. She had eaten more than her fair share of gourmet meals over the years, that was just one of the perks of captaining a charter yacht, but she had never tasted anything as wonderful as the meal Lauren had just prepared. The ingredients were simple—fish, wild rice, and steamed vegetables—but the things Lauren had done with them were out of this world. “That was seriously amazing.”

  The quiet compliment made Lauren blush, since Grey had gone out of her way to avoid her all day long, and she smiled shyly as she tipped her head in a small bow. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Grey murmured, forcing herself to hold Lauren’s gaze for an extended beat before it became too much for her and she had to look away. It was still too hard to look at Lauren and not be reminded of all she had lost, but at the same time, she was finding it harder and harder to not look at her either. She could not explain it, but there was something about Lauren that just called to her.

  “Dinner was absolutely incredible,” Kim Mueller agreed. The sentiment was echoed by her husband and all three boys, who were bookended by their parents at the table opposite Grey and Lauren.

  Lauren smiled. “I’m glad you all enjoyed it. Would you like dessert now, or would you rather wait a bit?”

  “Dessert!” the boys yelled, bouncing in their seats and drumming their hands on the table excitedly.

  Grey chuckled and shot a questioning look at Will and Kim, who simply smiled indulgently at the boys and nodded their approval. Grey grinned and winked at the boys as she slid out of the banquette and began gathering the Muellers’ plates. “Looks like you guys don’t have to wait.”

  Kim started to stand as Grey took her plate. “I can help.”

  “Nonsense. Stay and enjoy your family,” Lauren said, shaking her head at Kim as she stacked the boys’ plates to make them easier to carry. “We got this,” she added, glancing at Grey, who nodded her agreement.

  The dirty plates were set into the sink to be dealt with later, and Lauren smiled gratefully at Grey as she opened a cupboard near the stove and pulled out a saucepan. “Thank you for helping bring everything in. W
ould you like some dessert?”

  “It’s not a problem. And, sure. Are we having the brownies you made this afternoon while everybody was swimming?”

  “We are.” Lauren held the small saucepan beneath the tap at the sink and, once there were a few inches of water in it, placed it onto the stove and set the burner beneath it on high. “Would you mind pulling a jar of hot fudge sauce from the pantry? I’m going to do sundaes.”

  “Of course,” Grey murmured, turning to retrieve the bottle of gourmet hot fudge sauce from the pantry. She twisted the top off on her way to the stove, and set it into the saucepan. “Bowls?”

  “Please.” Lauren moved the glass baking dish that held the brownies she had made earlier onto the counter beside a large chef’s knife. An ice cream scoop was placed next to the knife, and then Lauren pulled a small container of fresh whipped cream that she had prepared just before dinner from the fridge, along with a large tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer.

  “You’re spoiling those boys,” Grey pointed out with an amused smile as she set seven bowls onto the counter beside Lauren’s supplies. She leaned against the counter beside the range and watched Lauren peel back the plastic wrap that was covering the brownies.

  Lauren laughed and began cutting the brownies into squares. They had not yet completely cooled, and she moaned softly as she popped a small piece into her mouth. “Forget the boys, this is my favorite dessert.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lauren drawled as she carefully lifted a large brownie square from the baking dish and set it into a bowl. “Don’t get me wrong, I love me some cheesecake, but this is the best. Brownie, ice cream, hot fudge, a little whipped cream…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head, sending an errant curl into her face. “There’s nothing better than that.”

  Grey cleared her throat, her eyes glued to the rogue tendril tickling Lauren’s cheek. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the juxtaposition of warm red ringlets and flawless alabaster skin, and she found herself torn between wanting to reach out and tuck the hair behind Lauren’s ear, and screaming in frustration because Lauren was not who she wanted her to be. With her wild curls pulled back into a messy ponytail that left the elegant slope of her neck exposed, the gentle curve of her jaw and the light dusting of freckles over her cheeks, it was almost too easy to pretend that Lauren was somebody else. It would be so much easier for her if there was something about Lauren that was easy to dislike—an obnoxious voice, bad attitude, terrible teeth, anything she could fixate on to keep herself from feeling so drawn to her—but Lauren was perfectly alluring, and Grey could not help but hate her a little for that.

  She was so lost in her thoughts that she missed whatever it was Lauren said next, and she startled when Lauren turned, knife cradled loosely in her hand, to level her with an expectant look. “I’m sorry?”

  Lauren’s brow dropped as she looked at Grey. She had been mindlessly chattering away as she worked, pleased that Grey was actually engaged in a genuine conversation with her, but the far-away, almost haunted look in Grey’s eyes told her that she had been wrong. “I asked you how the fudge was looking.”

  “Oh.” Grey’s eyes dropped to the glass jar on the stove that she had been idly stirring. She lifted the spoon and watched the chocolate sauce pour from the end in a silken ribbon. “It’s good.”

  “All right,” Lauren said, forcing herself to smile as she dropped a generous scoop of ice cream onto a brownie and handed it over to Grey. “Just hit that sucker with the fudge, and then I’ll put the whipped cream on.”

  “This looks really good,” Grey murmured as she began spooning hot fudge onto the sundae.

  Lauren nodded and turned to hand Grey a second bowl. Her eyes grew wide when she saw how much fudge Grey had poured onto the ice cream, and she hurried to yank the bowl out of her hand. “That’s too much!”

  “Psht.” Grey shook her head as she took the fudge-less bowl Lauren was holding out for her. “It’s hot fudge. It doesn’t count unless it’s too much. Besides, the boys will love it.”

  There was really no way for Lauren to argue either of those points, and she chuckled as she turned back to the counter to finish preparing the next sundae. “Who wouldn’t?”

  Grey smirked and set the second completed bowl onto the counter beside the first. “Exactly.”

  Once they had finished preparing sundaes for everybody, Grey grabbed the three she had overloaded with hot fudge and took them out for the boys. Lauren followed with Will and Kim’s desserts, and could not help but laugh at the jubilant, wide-eyed look that lit each of the boys’ faces as they stared at the bowls of hot fudge.

  “Hey boys, why don’t you have some hot fudge with your ice cream,” Kim laughed.

  “All Grey’s fault,” Lauren shared as she handed Kim her bowl.

  Will took his with a grateful smile, and looked at it for a moment before he elbowed Reid playfully and asked, “Wanna trade? You got more chocolate sauce.”

  Reid, who had already managed to cover half his face with fudge, shook his head and pulled his bowl closer to himself. “Mine!”

  “Would you like more hot fudge?” Lauren offered.

  “Nah, I’m good,” Will chuckled.

  “If you’re sure…” Lauren smiled and turned back to the salon for her own bowl.

  After the desserts had been polished off and the boys had licked their bowls clean with gleeful giggles, Lauren gathered the dirty dishes and carried them into the galley. It took a little bit of Tetris mojo to get everything into the dishwasher, but she eventually managed to fit everything in. She smiled to herself as she wiped the counters down with a dishtowel, pleased that the Muellers had enjoyed the meal, and blew out a loud breath as she turned to survey her temporary kingdom. She had not really known what to expect when she decided to become a private chef on a luxurious yacht, but it had been a nice change of pace from the hectic pace of the kitchen at Clarke’s.

  Her eyes skipped over the empty salon, drinking in the sight of gleaming light wood and rich red and gold accents, and her breath caught in her throat when she finally spotted Grey leaning against the dining table, the knuckles of her left hand white as she strangled the neck of the guitar she was holding. Lauren frowned as she took in the conflicted expression darkening Grey’s features, and she licked her lips nervously as she held her gaze. “Grey?”

  Grey shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. She had been on her way back outside to play some music for the Muellers while the boys wound down for bed when she spotted Lauren working at the sink, her lean body swaying slightly to a song only she could hear. Memories of another redhead doing the exact same thing flooded her mind, and she had barely grabbed onto the edge of the table before her knees threatened to give out beneath her. Even now, with Lauren staring back at her with a bewildered look on her face, Grey could not move.

  The air between them seemed to crackle with electricity as they held each other’s gaze, and Grey finally felt herself released from the magnetic pull of Lauren’s stare when the redhead turned to watch an energetic blur in Spiderman pajamas bolt through the salon for the back deck. The loss of visual contact was enough to spur Grey into motion, and she shook her head as she headed for deck. It was all she could do to not run, as her heart raced and her body all but trembled with the need to escape, to find some kind of space that would give her time to try and understand what had just happened.

  Chapter 7

  Grey had not slept so badly in years. It took her what felt like forever to get comfortable, and once she finally did fall asleep she had been immersed in dreams that broke her heart all over again, leaving her gasping for air when she bolted awake. After the third time it happened, she gave up on trying to get any sort of rest. She swore under her breath as she ran her hands through her hair, and shook her head as she slid out of bed.

  The sky outside the salon windows was still muddled in the charcoal hues of night when Grey wandered up the stairs to the
main cabin, and her step faltered when she spotted Lauren in the galley preparing breakfast.

  Fucking hell, she thought as reached out to steady herself against the side of the refrigerator. She had just been hoping to grab a cup of coffee to while away the minutes before the sun began to rise and it would be safe for her to hit the water for a punishing swim that would burn off the anxiousness that had settled in her muscles over the last twenty-four hours.

  Lauren was barefoot, with her hair pulled back in a messy twist of a bun, wearing a pair of short blue boardshorts and a pale gray Henley whose sleeves were shoved halfway to her elbows. Grey’s eyes slid slowly over Lauren’s legs, noting the subtle play of muscles as Lauren shifted her stance to reach for something she needed. Her gaze lingered on Lauren’s ass, which was barely covered by her shorts before sweeping higher, taking in the way Lauren’s shoulders curved into her neck and her ridiculously sexy hair.

  Grey hated the way her heart beat faster when she looked at Lauren. Hated the way her stomach flipped whenever their eyes met. She did not want to find Lauren attractive, but she did.

  God help her, she did.

  Though the voice of self-preservation in the back of her mind screamed for her to slink back down the stairs to her cabin, Grey instead stepped forward into the galley, figuring that she may as well try and deal with her unwelcome attraction toward her temporary chef. She did not miss the way Lauren tensed when she realized that she was no longer alone, and Grey offered Lauren a small smile as she pulled her favorite mug and a pod of her favorite roast from the cupboard above the coffee machine. “Good morning.”