Boss Rules: A Knocked Up Romance

by Jenna Gunn

  “Thanks.”

  She doesn’t reply, obviously still ticked about me laughing at her earlier.

  “You know, I wasn’t laughing at you.”

  She mumbles something, which is very unlike her. I’ve never seen the woman mumble before. She’s all about direct, curt, and clearly spoken answers.

  “What’s that?”

  She cuts her big dark blue eyes to me. “You know, it’s like that all the time…men saying that kind of stuff.”

  The old me was probably one of those men. I’m about to open my mouth to say something—I’m not sure what—when I’m interrupted by a call from dispatch over the radio. “Boat One, we have a call in the inlet—small boat in distress without power.”

  “Roger, Boat One responding.”

  Raven stows the binoculars as I turn the boat sharply to the right. She grabs the console and leans with me as we speed off in the direction of the inlet.

  The boat crashes over the growing swell, beating us about, and a cold knot twists in the pit of my gut because I know things can get bad quickly in the narrow mouth of the harbor.

  As we approach, we both realize that it is bad. Like eight on a scale of ten, bad.

  My voice is tense when I say to Raven, “This is gonna be tough. They are already taking on water.”

  The current is strong, and I can feel it fighting my boat even though I have two very large three hundred fifty horsepower engines. It will be tricky to get alongside the smaller vessel which is caught in the current at the mercy of the fast-moving water. The small open bow boat has four passengers. It’s already partially submerged due to the rolling waves of rushing water coming from the inlet as the tide goes out. It also doesn’t help that the wind is amplifying the problem by the second.

  Calling for backup on the radio mic, I speak urgently, “Dispatch, we need to get one PWC on-scene STAT.” A Personal Watercraft will be very helpful in getting closer and picking up anyone that ends up in the water.

  “I’ll try to get in front of them for you to throw a rope over,” I shout over the roar of the engines. A wave of water gushes out toward the ocean, and the small boat takes a massive hit. Water pours over the bow. The passengers scream.

  “Man overboard,” Raven yells as she motions to the water.

  Damn. I was afraid that would happen.

  “He’s not wearing a PFD.”

  I gun the boat and try to bring it around again, hoping I can get close enough for us to grab the man out of the current, all while watching the boat with it’s terrified occupants.

  Rotten situation. Things would have been much better if everyone was in the boat. That way, we could have slid up alongside and had them climb aboard our vessel.

  “Try to grab him,” I yell.

  Raven scrambles into position beside the console, grips the railing, and extends her arm to try to catch the man. I throttle back, trying to align her perfectly. She grabs the man’s hand, and I see her straining hard to hold him. She’s got her foot looped under a cleat on the floor for leverage. “Unghh!”

  Her foot slips loose, and I quickly reach out. I can almost reach her as my fingers wave in the air. Sliding to the side, I’m careful not to let go of the wheel, but finally, I manage to grab the loop on her jacket. With a grunt, I pull her backward.

  Roaring a battle cry, she tries with all her might to pull the man in. The boat dips, and she yells, “Kick, kick hard.”

  I can’t watch what’s going on with her and keep an eye on the water like I need to, but I feel the second the man comes crashing into the boat, knocking her to the deck. She scrambles back up to her feet. “Raven! Take the helm!” I shout over the sound of the crashing waves.

  Panting, she nods, grabs a hand-hold, and starts moving toward me. I shift aside to allow her room to take over. “Swing me around, and I’ll try to get everyone in.”

  Raven guns the engines on the boat and expertly moves us closer. The small vessel is listing to one side, taking on water with every crashing wave. I assess the passengers, determining who should come first. They are all pretty young. Two young women and two thirty-something guys. None of them wearing life jackets. Only one is clinging to a flotation cushion. I yell out, “Get ready to cross over.”

  I steady myself and prepare to grab the first bikini-clad woman as she leaps onto our boat. Her skin is slick with sunscreen, but I dig into her flesh as I try to hang on.

  She lands in my arms, hyperventilating and shaky. I’m setting her aside when I see a man start to leap toward our boat with nowhere good to land. Fear drove him into an irrational and dangerous leap, and he flails, grabbing Raven’s arm as he falls.

  “No!” I scream helplessly as Raven and the man tumble over the edge of the boat into the rough water.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I lunge for the wheel and watch in horror as the man scrambles around Raven, desperate to save himself.

  My gut clenches as I see Raven fighting off his hands, determination on her face as she angles to get behind the man to subdue him. The current and waves throw them about wildly, carrying them far away from me and the other boat.

  What a total cluster fuck. Raven has on a flotation, thank god. And she’s a trained lifeguard. Yet, all I want to do is go to her aid.

  But the boat is going down fast, and I have to get the last woman off of it. Grabbing the radio, I scream harshly into it. “Where is that PWC? Carson is overboard. I need assistance, NOW!”

  My hands feel like ice as I steer the boat alongside the other one. When I’m close enough, I motion for the next woman. She leaps and lands on our deck, safe but crying. I clasp my hand on her shoulder and try to comfort her as best as I can. “It’s okay. Put on those life jackets.”

  As I motor away, our boat rocks violently, and everyone screams. When we stabilize, I yell. “Hold on, everybody! We’ve gotta get them.”

  I push the throttle hard, all while praying they brace themselves as our boat surges up onto a swell of water before crashing down with a giant smack.

  As soon as I have a clear path, I gun the boat toward where Raven and the man should be.

  I search the water for them. Dark grey waves capped with whitewater surround us and stretch as far as I can see.

  My heart pounds, and my throat feels like I swallowed ground glass. Where are they?

  Fuck.

  The water is growing wilder by the second. The waves are now 3-4 feet tall as the water rushes through the inlet, flowing out toward the sea.

  Jesus, how did I lose them so fast?

  Tension crushes my heart, and I can hardly breathe.

  “Come on, where are you?” I yell. I hear someone sobbing behind me.

  Seaspray soaks my face, but I wipe the water away with my arm and refocus my eyes.

  Finally, I see Raven’s head pop up on the back of a wave. The man is wrapped tightly in her arms, facing away from her. He’s still kicking and splashing, but she has him securely in a safety hold.

  Suddenly, I hear a personal watercraft screaming toward us. My brother Ty’s serious face reassures me. There’s no one I’d rather have on the job than one of my brothers.

  He makes a straight line for Raven and the man. I’m relieved that Ty is going to get them. It’s much easier to maneuver the smaller craft between the waves.

  In a matter of seconds, the man is on the rescue float that’s attached to the machine. Raven climbs aboard last.

  She slicks the hair that got knocked loose from her ponytail back from her face and tosses a hand up toward me. It’s her saying she’s okay, I know.

  When we get a break in the waves for a few seconds, Ty hustles them over to us. Raven helps the man into the boat.

  Immediately, the one woman leaps on him. “Oh my god. I thought you drowned.”

  Bastard’s lucky for sure—lucky he didn’t drown, and lucky I haven’t punched his teeth out already for that idiotic stunt.

  Raven’s eyes are a little wild still from all the adrenaline as she
makes her way toward me. The instant she’s in reach, I wrap my arm around her and pull her under my shoulder. “You okay?”

  Her voice is rough, but her body feels steady. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “My sunglasses and hat didn’t survive,” she sighs, a sad frown on her face.

  The lump in my throat is still firmly locked in place as I choke out a small laugh. “Those can be replaced.”

  11

  Chapter 11

  I’m a jumbly mess inside, leftover adrenaline still coursing through me. The lingering energy is normal, I know. Bryce, standing next to me at the center console, picks up the radio. His voice is as calm and in control as ever as he reports back to dispatch and communicates with the emergency tow vessel that’s now on the scene.

  Chattering voices come from the cluster of people in the back of our boat. We leave them alone to their dramatic discussion, knowing they are all fine and are just processing what happened. Bryce doesn’t take his hand away from where it’s gently clasped around my neck until we’re parked safely.

  I’m deep in making notes and filling out the required forms when I catch sight of a white van with a dish thingy on top speeding toward us—a television news van.

  Just great.

  The bedraggled woman standing in front of me huffs and clenches her manicured fingernails into a fist. “Oh daddy, I knew it. Knew he’d call all the news stations. I thought I’d at least get to straighten up my hair before he got here with the circus on his heels.”

  Daddy?

  I glance down at the name.

  Morgan Brightly. Should that ring a bell?

  As if on cue, a white Mercedes sedan zooms into the parking lot. The tires screech as it grinds to a stop no less than twenty feet away. Morgan crosses her arms over her bikini top and growls.

  A fifty-something-year-old man with styled up hair and a purple golf shirt rushes out from the car. “Baby! Thank god you’re okay.” He hustles over—his paunch bouncing—and grabs his daughter in a tight embrace.

  Bryce is watching the whole thing. His eyes narrow into furious slits as he stands up and excuses himself from the three people he was talking with. He stalks toward me like a man on a mission.

  When I turn back to look at the father-daughter reunion, the television anchor has closed in. Another camera team is fast on her heels.

  It’s no mystery what’s on Bryce’s mind when he appears at my side with his jaw in a hard line. He mumbles something under his breath before adjusting his county-issued ball cap.

  “Um, this is getting interesting,” I comment.

  “You have no idea. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Councilman Brightly,” Bryce greets as he extends a hand. I watch as the two shake hands in that weird male ritual way. Both men’s arms flex. I’m not sure who wins the handshake, but there’s backstory there for sure.

  Regardless of the history between the two, I now understand the media frenzy. Daddy’s a politician.

  “Captain Archer, and you, young lady, I owe you both a giant thank you. You saved my baby girl and her friends from dying out there.” The man nods toward his daughter, who is now on camera talking to the first reporter—all drama, hand over her heart, tossing her head around like she’s still on the waves.

  Brightly turns his eyes on me then, and there’s a kind of over-caffeinated craziness in them. “And I heard you drove the boat and went in the water to rescue her boyfriend.”

  I’m a little startled, but I mumble, “Ah, yes, I ah…” I’m about to tell him the man dragged me into the water when he starts talking over me.

  “Well, Morgan said that you, young lady, are her new hero.”

  “Oh, thank you.”

  With a practiced political face, he adds, “All young girls need more women heroes in their lives.”

  Bryce makes a low noise beside me, a grumble deep in his chest.

  “How long have you been on the force?”

  A big hand, Bryce’s, lands on my shoulder then, startling me. His touch feels awfully possessive. “She’s the new Rookie the council approved last month.”

  “Oh, wonderful! How long then?”

  “Five days, sir,” I reply, unsure whether that’s a good thing or not.

  “Wow, you sure are a great addition to the team.”

  “I’d like to think so, sir.”

  He glances back up at Bryce then, a glint in his dark eyes. “Make sure she gets the job.”

  Bryce’s fingers momentarily tighten on my shoulder, and his body stiffens beside me. His voice is tight when he answers, “She’s off to a good start, and at the end of her probation, we will make the decision.”

  It’s as PC of an answer as you can get, but Bryce makes sure to assert his control over the situation.

  Great. I’m caught in some kind of male pissing match.

  Should I be thankful or annoyed? I’m not sure how to feel when a news anchor thrusts a fuzzy microphone into the vicinity of my face. “The Dynamic Rescue Sweethearts!” bubbles the made-up brunette who has her eyes locked on Bryce like this is the best news story she’s had all year. “Councilman Brightly’s daughter tells me you two are the reason she’s alive. And the world couldn’t ask for a hotter rescue team! What a sensational couple you guys are.”

  Oh god. What?!

  Couple?

  Suddenly, I realize Bryce’s hand is still on my shoulder. Heat flashes up my neck as if a three-alarm fire got lit inside my bra.

  A grimace flits across his face, but for only a split second. Then he smiles and speaks as calmly as if he’s about to diffuse a bomb. “Now, that’s a bit over the top, don’t you think?”

  The woman laughs. “Don’t be so humble, Captain Archer. You guys are amazing, rushing out to save people from the ocean. And looking like you should be on some reality show while you do it.”

  Bryce groans. “Turn off the camera for a minute, will ya?”

  She waves at her cameraman, who drops the gear from his shoulder at her command.

  “The story is that four people were saved. Period. Nothing more. We just did our job.”

  The woman humors him for a second, then smiles—a cunning, I gotcha smile. “But what sells is the story about the people, not boring data. Just play along, and your council will be in hog heaven. You’ll get a promotion. You two will go down in history as the sensational rescue couple.”

  Bryce is silent next to me.

  My skin twitches at the awkwardness. At that very instant, a photographer snaps a photo of Bryce and me. I nod in that direction as I mutter, “Um, more cameras…”

  Oh boy. What a disaster.

  “So, let’s try this again,” the news anchor says as she puts on her TV smile again, flips her straight brown hair over her shoulder, and jumps right in. “Three, two, one…We’re here at Ocean County’s Marina where the dramatic life-saving rescue of four people just concluded. Councilman Brightly’s daughter tells me you two are the reason she’s alive. And the world couldn’t ask for a hotter rescue team! What a sensational couple you guys are! Captain Archer, can you tell us what happened when you were called to save the Councilman's daughter and her friends from their sinking boat?”

  Bryce squares up with the camera and looks at it dead on like he’s plenty used to dealing with the whims of media and is having none of the fluff. “Recruit Carson and I were patrolling the coastline when we received a call at 11:19 a.m. that a boat was in distress in the inlet. We responded. Three individuals were extracted from the boat. One was rescued from the water. An emergency tow vessel removed the stranded boat from the inlet.” When he’s finished, he just looks at the woman, his expression somewhere between flat and satisfied.

  “And?” Her brows are arched expectantly.

  “Everyone is safely back on land.”

  She rolls her eyes and then sticks the mic in my face, “Recruit Carson, how long have you been on the team? Was this your first rescue?

  That three-alarm fire continues to blaze somewh
ere under my shirt. God, how I’d like to have a fire extinguisher.

  “I’ve been a recruit with Ocean Rescue for five days. This was my first boat rescue. However, I’ve assisted with other beach-based rescues during my time here with the organization.”

  “I was told you were driving the boat today. How did that feel, knowing lives were at risk?”

  Carefully I respond, “Captain Archer was at the helm for part of the rescue before he handed the vessel’s control to me while he performed other necessary tasks. Any time you are on a call, the task at hand is the most important thing on earth.”

  The reporter bobs her head in approval. “You hear that, folks? The most important thing on earth. Aren't they just adorable? The hottest rescue couple in all of California if not the whole world! More on this story at ten tonight. Back to you now, Jim, for tomorrow’s weather report.”

  The cameraman lowers his gear. Ms. News flips her hair again, pulls her lipstick from her pocket, and applies a quick swipe as she eyes her next victim. “The full story will be on at ten, including Councilman Brightly and his daughter’s comments. I’m sure you’ll be hearing more from the station to schedule an appearance on one of the shows.”

  Then she’s off teetering in her three-inch heels and wiggling along in her pencil skirt, making a beeline for the father and daughter.

  Whew! Thank heaven’s that’s over.

  A small smile of relief on my face, I glance up at Bryce. He’s standing really close to me, his eyes fixed on mine. Before I know what’s happening—click, click, click! The sound of a camera shutter within arm’s distance makes my gut drop.

  Oh god.

  No more photos!

  What will that look like?

  Me looking like a lovestruck bimbo?

  Can this get any worse?

  Shit. It can definitely get worse. TV personality number two is making double-time toward us. Bryce whips out his phone and holds up a finger at the woman. His thumb works furiously over his device, and when he glances back up at the woman, he has his business face on. “Make this quick. We’ve got work to do. Conditions are degrading, and the team needs us on the water.”