“Mackenzie, the captain asked if you’d like to use the jet skis right after we take off, or if you’d rather relax and wait until we get to St. John tomorrow,” my father says, repeating what the captain must have said when I was busy ogling the smug bastard whose face is now back to being emotionless as he stares at a spot over my shoulder. I wonder if I imagined the smirk.
“Oh, um, tomorrow is fine. I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I’m sure you have a lot to do once we take off and get going,” I respond quickly, smiling at the captain.
“It’s no trouble at all. Declan and the rest of the crew are at your service twenty-four-seven, ready and willing to do whatever you need,” he reassures me.
My eyes glance back down the line to Declan when the captain says his name and I see that muscle ticking in his jaw again. His smooth, perfectly chiseled jaw that dreams are made of.
The captain dismisses everyone in the crew aside from a woman named Ashley, and excuses himself to head up to the bridge so he can begin getting the ship ready to leave the dock. I force myself not to stare at Declan when he walks around to the balcony on the opposite side of the ship and disappears around the corner.
Ashley motions for everyone to follow her as she leads us inside and gives a tour of the guest quarters, which are nicer than any hotel I’ve ever seen or stayed at. When we get to the bedrooms, Ariana immediately picks the second largest one next to the master suite, while Brooke grabs my arm and stops me from continuing behind everyone.
“You’ve got a little drool on your chin, need me to wipe it off?” she asks in a low voice, even though Ariana is currently complaining that she can’t possibly be expected to sleep in a bed with sheets that have anything less than an eight-hundred thread count. The high volume of her nasally whine drowns out every sound within a one-block radius.
“Kiss my ass, I don’t have drool on my chin,” I fire back, crossing my arms indignantly in front of me.
“Total bullshit, but I’ll let it slide for now. I’m going to assume you’d like to swap Eddie for Declan, considering I think you might have gotten pregnant just by looking at him,” she laughs.
“I’m not swapping anything or anyone. And like I told you when you suggested, multiple times, that a quick fling with a deckhand I’ll never see again after we leave this boat is the best way to take my mind off of my troubles, it’s not happening,” I remind her. “I’m not having sex with some guy I just met that I’ll be stuck on a boat with for ten days. It’s bad enough I’ll be stranded out in the middle of the ocean with my new family, I don’t need the added misery of not being able to escape a one-night-stand.”
While Arianna continues to find things to complain about and my father and Allyson get settled in the master suite, Ashley leaves us to go check on our luggage. Brooke and I make our way down the hall to the smallest bedroom, which is still three times the size of my bedroom in my apartment in Manhattan.
“I get it, you’re not the one-night-stand kind of woman, but I’m just saying, there’s nothing like breaking out of your comfort zone, especially with that gorgeous specimen who couldn’t take his eyes off of you,” Brooke tells me as I poke my head into the bathroom before taking in the rest of the beautifully decorated room with its two king sized beds.
I don’t even have time to feel guilty about all the expensive furnishings and stress over the money my father didn’t bat an eye about spending because I’m too busy thinking about what Brooke just said. Even if I didn’t imagine the cocky, smug look on Declan’s face, the idea that he was staring at me just as much as I was staring at him is enough to set off a whole swarm of butterflies in my stomach.
As Brooke starts checking out the size of the dresser drawers and muttering a “Holy shit” when she opens the closet doors and sees how big it is, I press a hand to my stomach and remind myself that no matter how good looking the guy is, I am not having a fling with him or anyone else on this boat. I’ll suffer through the next ten days with a fake smile on my face for my father’s benefit, but there is no way I’m making things even more uncomfortable on this family vacation by screwing someone on the crew…no matter how lickable his jaw is or how much my fingers are still itching to trace over every inch of the tattoo on his muscular arm.
No having sex on the boat. Period. End of story.
CHAPTER 3
Declan
“It’s too hot, the closets are too small, the color scheme is hideous, you really expect me to go barefoot for ten days just so I don’t scuff these second-rate floors?” Ben whines in a high-pitched voice, mimicking the two annoying blondes that boarded the yacht a few hours ago.
“Can you believe that older bitch actually asked for orange juice with pulp in her mimosa, took a sip, then handed it back to me and demanded I strain out all the pulp?” Zoe complains as she helps us drain and scrub the Jacuzzi on the sundeck after the daughter of the “older bitch” said she saw a hair floating in the water and wouldn’t go anywhere near it until we fixed the problem.
Normally, Zoe wouldn’t help with anything on the exterior of the boat since she’s a stew, but Ashley felt bad about the abuse she’d had to endure after serving the women lunch and told Zoe to take a fifteen-minute break. Zoe quickly ran outside and found Ben and me up on the sundeck, choosing to help us during her break instead of spending time inside, in close proximity to the guests who could run into her and bark more orders at her.