“Excuse me,” she grabbed them out of the hamper before he slammed the lid, “I need those!”
He stormed off toward the steps and Maureen turned to follow. This was going to be a fun ride home.
36
Not a Nice Guy
Stephen saw Maureen frantically grabbing the door handle to steady herself as he turned sharply right out onto the main road. Maybe he even felt the left-side wheels lift off the ground a little. Sorry, but he didn’t care if she was scared. Boat guy? He had started to think that maybe she was different from all of the other women he had met who hung around on yachts and dated rich guys, but maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was just a master manipulator and her sweet, down to Earth nature was simply an act—an act you would think he had cottoned onto, by now. She certainly acted differently around Brad. Maybe that was the real Maureen. It figured. You couldn’t trust women—they made you feel as though you were the most important guy on Earth and then they slept with your best friend.
She wasn’t saying a word. He glanced over and noticed her lips set in a grim, hard line with her eyes scrunched closed. She was angry. He felt a little burst of regret in his chest, but he squelched it. So what if she was angry? Why did he care?
The ride from the beach to the dock was only a few minutes long, but in those minutes, Stephen felt his anger fade. The truth was that he did care—he liked her. If he was going to be honest, that was why he'd been such a jerk about Brad. He had started out so optimistic about spending the day with her, but had been dismayed to see how happy she was about a possible dinner with Brad.
He’d felt pissy, so he’d convinced himself that maybe she was involved with Brad and his scams, after all. He’d told himself his pointed questioning was necessary, so he could establish whether Maureen was somehow involved in Brad’s nefarious activities, but he’d been lying to himself. The reason he'd asked so many questions about Brad was that he was jealous and disappointed that a guy like him could attract one of the most beautiful, sweet, and interesting girls he had ever met. He was also disappointed that she would fall for it. He was wrong, and he needed to apologize. He understood why she had lashed out with the boat guy comment: he had been a real jerk.
They pulled into the parking lot and he turned to Maureen. Her scrunched-up face had disappeared. She looked as thoughtful and chagrined as he felt.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk about Brad or your friend. I am sure they are both great guys, and I'm just overly judgmental. I seem to be not such a nice guy, lately. Well, if you can call two years lately." The van was quiet. He was about to speak again when he felt her hand rest gently on his arm. She was shaking her head. "No, seriously, Maureen, I’m not such a nice guy, and you should ignore everything I said. I’ll bet you get back to the yacht and you and Brad will have a wonderful evening together, and you can forget about some random boat guy being an asshole.”
Maureen was still shaking her head. She gave a big sigh, and he had to strain to hear her next words.
“No, I’m sorry." She seemed on the edge of tears. "I shouldn’t have called you ‘boat guy.’ I don’t even know what that's supposed to mean. I’m just very protective of my friends, because I seriously think my life would suck without them. I don't know why I jumped down your throat. I'm sorry—it’s not like me."
Stephen felt crappy. This girl didn’t deserve to look so unhappy, and as far as he could tell, he was the cause. He rested his hand on hers and slowly removed it from his arm.
“Look, I don’t think I'm a great person to have around right now. I'm going through some stuff that makes me complicated. I'm going to stay out of your way for a while. You need to focus on enjoying the yacht and Brad’s company. The crewmembers on the boat really want you to have a great time. From now on, if you need anything, just call on Joe, okay? He is awesome and he'll take care of you, whatever you need.”
Stephen opened the door and started to get out of the van. He had some errands to run, but he would take a walk on the beach first and try to clear his head. Watching tourists get their hair braided and fight over conch shell prices would distract him for a while. Maybe he needed to tell Don it was time he went back to California and gave up on this idea of a break. It wasn’t working; he was as miserable and anti-social as ever.
“Stephen!” He took his hand off the door and turned back to her. “I just want you to know that I don’t believe you about not being a nice guy. I think you should let people decide that for themselves, anyway, don’t you? Please, don’t stay out of my way. I like having you around.”
He jumped down from the cab. “Have a great evening, Maureen. I’ll tell Joe to make sure you get lots more of those crab rolls while you’re on board.”
Maureen smiled. She was beautiful. “Was I that obvious?”
“Not obvious, I just noticed.”
Stephen walked away from away, turning at the edge of the parking lot to watch Maureen walk briskly toward Marina Village. He wasn’t ready for this. He’d better stay away.
37
Let the Fun Begin
Maureen wasn’t sure what just happened. One minute, she hated the guy, and the next, she was considering jumping his bones. His real, honest, heartfelt apology had disarmed her. Had she ever met a man so self-aware and willing to admit his faults? Sure, he had been a bit of a jerk, but her reaction had been completely over the top rude. Even then, he had been so concerned about her feelings and so willing to forgive her. She needed to get her mind off him. As Sally had made clear, he was distracting her from this mission.
Her weird feelings toward Stephen were making her confused, and when she was confused, she made stupid decisions, like Nick and even Phil. She would not get distracted by Stephen—not because he was just a guy who worked on a boat, but because she didn’t trust her own judgment, anymore. Stephen had said he was going to stay out of the way and maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it would keep her from screwing up this trip.
Maureen crossed the main road and turned into the entrance to Marina Village. There was a group of men standing around the trees outside of Carmine’s restaurant playing Bahamian rake and scrape music. The man with the tom-tom drum caught her eye and came over, dancing around her and laughing. With the smiling tourists around her, the music, and the blue sky and hot sun above her, it was impossible not to feel her spirits lift. Why was she wasting time worrying about her past? Why wasn’t she enjoying this amazing adventure she was having in the present?
Maureen opened the gate to the dock and heard loud laughter and the clinking of glasses from the direction of the Lauren Belle. As she came up the steps, she saw Brad perched on boat's edge, looking out over the village. A man she had never seen before was lounging comfortably on the plush couch, and both had what looked like glasses of scotch in their hands. There goes my romantic evening, she thought.
“Well hello, luscious!” the stranger sat up straighter on the couch and winked at her. She felt the back of her neck prickle. What a dangerously handsome guy. He dressed in white linen pants and a pink shirt—expensive. Just a few too many buttons were open to reveal a downy chest with an abundance of gold chains. His hair was jet-black and looked wet, although Maureen could tell it was just too much hair gel. He swirled the scotch lazily, and the ice cubes clinked against the side of the glass.
“Brad, you didn’t tell me you had company. Why don’t you introduce us?”
Brad looked at Maureen with a long stare and a hint of surprise. “Sure. This is Doreen. Doreen, this is Myron. He’s a new friend of mine from Nassau.”
Doreen? Seriously? Doreen? All of her buoyant and confident thoughts instantly deflated. What was she doing here? She needed a drink.
“You can call me Mo,” she said to Myron, “and can I have what you are having?”
“You can have anything of mine you want, Mo. Just head on over here and I’ll pour you one, gorgeous.” He smiled at her and Maureen thought, What the hell? If Brad can’t even remember my name, wh
y shouldn’t I sit with the guy who called me gorgeous? She crossed over and squeezed herself between Myron and the arm of the couch. The space was extremely tight. Had he purposely moved over?
“Thank you, Myron.” She took a large swallow of the scotch and felt it burn a path right down to her stomach. She decided she was going to get drunk.
Myron turned back to Brad and seemingly continued the conversation she had interrupted. She sipped her scotch and zoned out for a while, watching the tourists gape at them from the sidewalk like they were the latest exhibit in the yacht zoo. She felt very self-conscious in her khaki shorts and black t-shirt—she didn’t belong amongst all of this glamor, and anyone watching her sipping scotch on this boat would know immediately she was a fake.
She sipped a bit faster. After about ten minutes of their conversation buzzing in the background, she was buzzing right along with it. Maureen decided she would throw caution to the wind and tell Brad that she was hungry and wanted her romantic meal. She turned her attention back to their conversation.
“So, as I was saying, we would be interested in discussing a partnership between you and our gallery. As we represent all of the top Bahamian talents, I hope you will consider.” Myron didn’t sound like he was offering a partnership—he sounded angry and hard.
Brad moved to the chair opposite the couch and reached for the scotch bottle. Man, did this guy ever stop drinking? Maureen realized she had never seen him without a glass in his hand, except for those five minutes outside Tod’s apartment the day he had bumped into her. That couldn’t be a good sign.
She looked at her own glass and chuckled; she might as well join in. Another large gulp went burning down her throat. At the sound of her chuckle, Brad gave her the side-eye with some seriously scrunchy eyebrows. It looked like he was about to ask her a question, but he spoke to Myron, instead.
“I appreciate your interest, but I don’t believe I’m looking for a partner at this time. Maybe this is something we could discuss later," he gave a pointed look at Maureen, "when we don’t have company.”
“I don’t mind the company. I'm rather enjoying it.” Myron moved his hand to Maureen’s leg. Happily, the scotch had already hit her brain cells, which had decided they liked having this guy’s hand on her knee. She especially liked the way Brad looked at Myron’s hand on her knee. Could he possibly be jealous?
“Do you guys happen to know each other?” Brad asked, and Maureen burst out laughing. Where on this planet would she have ever been in the same room as a guy like Myron before today? She looked at her glass and was surprised to find it empty. This scotch was good. She hadn't even known she liked scotch. Myron leaned over and poured her more.
“Have we met somewhere?” Myron asked her. “I’m pretty sure I would remember you.” He squeezed her knee and looked up at Brad with a challenge in his eyes. Brad looked confused.
“Doreen, maybe you should head on back to your cabin now. Myron and I are probably going out for dinner, so you can stop by and see Joe on the way to let him know what you would like to eat.”
Maureen leaned back against the couch carefully, but when her scotch sloshed to the side of the glass, she realized she hadn’t been as graceful as she’d hoped. She decided not to correct him. What’s in a name, anyway?
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” she lifted her glass to Brad in a toast. “I thought we were having dinner together tonight, Brad? That’s what Stephen told me you said.”
“Stephen said what?”
“He said we were having dinner together. Have you changed your mind?”
Brad gestured to Myron. “Well, I have some business to take care of now, so maybe we could take a rain check on dinner.”
“Oh, I don’t think you need to do that, Brad.” Myron grinned, “Why don’t we all have dinner here? I’ve enjoyed many of Joe’s meals and would love to sample another. That way, I can also continue to enjoy the lovely Mo’s company.”
Brad looked flustered for a minute, but he soon recovered. He’s smooth, Maureen thought. He’s not about to reveal an inkling of what he’s thinking. The only thing she was sure about was that Brad was not thinking about her—at least not in the way he was supposed to be.
“Sure, of course. We’ll stay here.” Brad called over Ginny, who had been hovering in the background, pretending to polish glasses at the bar. “Ginny, could you let Joe know we’ll need dinner for three on the deck?”
“Of course.” Ginny produced a megawatt smile for Brad, turned to beam it all over Myron, and then scowled at Maureen.
Brad stood and moved to the side of the boat. Myron squeezed her knee again.
Fine, Brad! Her increasingly muddled brain and infusion of scotch were giving her false confidence. You don’t like Maureen, you didn’t like Magnificent Mo, and you seem to have a major problem with Doreen, poor thing. I’m going to stop worrying about you and enjoy this hot guy next to me, as well as the blue sky, the sun, and the fact that I am sitting on a multi-million dollar yacht and probably never will again. Screw this whole trip! She took another swallow of scotch. God, that went down easy. Let the fun begin.
38
White Knight
Stephen wandered slowly back toward the yacht. He wasn’t in any rush. The sun was going down, but he technically had no real responsibilities in his role as first mate. He lent a hand to Don when he needed one and did as he was told, but only because they didn’t want Brad to discover he had no idea what he was doing—not that Brad paid attention to much of anything, other than Ginny. He was the classic trust fund kid: the world revolved around him, laying every opportunity at his privileged feet, and he didn’t even notice. It was just the way life worked in his skewed reality.
Stephen decided to avoid the back deck and the possibility of running into Brad or Maureen, or even worse, both of them. He turned right, instead of left, at the dock’s side entrance and headed toward the front of the boat. He would go straight to his cabin and settle in with his book and a cup of coffee. He should probably check on business emails and perhaps reach out to a few folks for updates on the projects he was managing, but the thought of it all bored him. He just wasn’t interested.
“Where you been, boss?” Joe was headed out to the back deck with a platter of fresh lobster tails and roasted clams. “I think you might want to follow me.” The strain in Joe's voice made him pay attention. The last time Stephen had seen him look this worried was when Jean David, his oldest boy back in Haiti, had been caught cutting school with the wrong crowd.
“I’m not going up there, Joe,” Stephen shook his head as he tried to move past him to the hallway that led to his cabin. “I’ve had just about enough of looking after guests today.”
Joe turned his body sideways, blocking the hallway with his impressive heft. There was not a chance Stephen was getting past.
“I said: you want to follow me. Do I ever ask you to do stuff you shouldn’t be doing? You should follow me, okay?”
Stephen felt a sense of foreboding. What now? Was something wrong with Don? Ginny? Was there a problem with the boat? “Okay, buddy, I’m coming.” Joe turned toward the back deck, and he followed, tucking in his Lauren Belle shirt and smoothing his hair.
As they reached the French doors that led out to the patio, Stephen could see there was a party going on. The music was loud and the bass banged in his chest. Tourists gathered on the sidewalk of Marina Village, staring over the wall at the deck of the Lauren Belle and even snapping photos. Stephen blinked. Was he seeing what he thought he was seeing? Was that Maureen and Ginny?
Brad had his back against the side of the yacht, looking extremely uncomfortable and a little nervous. He was alternating his attention between Maureen, Ginny, and another guy who Stephen had never seen before. He was dancing around the low-slung coffee table with a drink in his hand, and he stopped frequently to take sips while staring at Maureen and Ginny.
Both the girls held drinks as they stood on top of the coffee table. Ginny
was shiny with sweat and she tossed her long hair back and forth. She was bumping her hips into Maureen to the rhythm of the music, as though they were doing some synchronized routine. Maureen looked more flushed than any blush had ever made her as she swayed to the music hesitantly and gazed wide-eyed at Ginny in fascination. She shot a glance at the spectators on the dock, some of whom were cheering and attempting to mimic Ginny’s moves.
Her hips moved as she closed her eyes and swayed. She looked dangerously close to toppling off the table, but the moves drew an appreciative lick of the lips from the stranger. Stephen felt the irrepressible urge to punch the man in the nose. Ginny caught the stranger looking at Maureen and ramped up her hair tossing, shimmying in his direction, but the guy moved to Maureen and grabbed her hand. With a slight tug, Maureen stumbled from the table into his waiting arms. He pulled her in close. He smiled, but Maureen's eyes were still closed and she looked close to falling over as the man ground his hips against her.
That man had about two seconds to get his hands off Maureen. The air in front of Stephen turned red as anger poured over him, and his reaction was instantaneous. He was about to take the few paces that would spell doom to the stranger (and probably get everyone fired) when Joe grabbed his arm and held him firmly in place.
“What the hell?” Stephen tried to keep his voice down, but his hissing caught the attention of Brad, who headed toward them purposefully.
“Get them out of here!” Brad said as he flung himself through the patio doors.
Stephen grabbed his arm as he steamed past. “Who is that guy? Why is he here?”
“Pretty fucking impertinent question, don’t you think? How about I tell you he’s a friend of mine who has overstayed his welcome. I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them—I want them off the yacht.”
Unstoppable: A Sweet Romance (Jersey Girls Book 2) Page 14