Her eyes got big.
And occasionally, she could be cute.
He was in hell.
“But I hate to remind you of this, in the summers, your son lives in Vermont,” he concluded.
Nico was an English teacher, his wife a history teacher, and during the summer, to make extra money, and enjoy what they both enjoyed, the outdoors, they moved to a cabin by a lake and both of them taught writing classes at a local college.
Nora made a feminine growly noise he’d never heard her make before (also cute, but all he could do was to wonder if she sounded something like that when she was naked, on her back and he did something to turn her on) as she located a muddler and started tossing mint and lime wedges from the bar caddy into two highball glasses.
Apparently, he was drinking a mojito before dinner.
“How are we going to make it to the Caribbean and back in a week going seven miles an hour?” she asked.
“It’s doubtful that’s our goal,” he answered.
She stopped smashing mint, lime and sugar and stared up at him again.
“Be prepared not to leave this boat, sweetheart,” he warned.
She turned back to the glasses and went to town with the muddler, saying between her teeth, “I…am going…to kill many people.”
“Nora,” he called.
“What?” she snapped at her muddling.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist.
She stilled but didn’t look up at him.
So he called again, “Nora.”
She gave him her eyes.
“Like I said, we’re going to have to make the most of this.”
“I don’t feel like getting along with anybody right now.”
“I understand.”
She sighed dramatically, and got over it, he knew, when she inquired, “I should have asked, do you want a mojito?”
“Since you’ve started, sure.”
“Oh, don’t mistake me, Mr. Oakley. I’m perfectly fine to drink two.”
He smiled at her.
Her eyes dropped to his mouth.
When he felt that in his cock, he let her wrist go.
That look she had on her face after he told her their kiss was a mistake came back, it wasn’t as strong, but it still gutted him.
She wanted him.
And she was in love with him.