Page 9 of Faking It at Sea

I rubbed my lips together, fighting the urge to squeeze my thighs for the added bit of friction my body craved. “Good.” Then I pulled in a deep breath, centered myself, and looked down the corridor. “Now, where can we find this steakhouse?”

4

SUTTON

The short walk to the steakhouse went smoother than expected given the way things started, but I still spent a healthy chunk of it kicking myself for that kiss. Or maybe I was kicking myself because I lied about why I’d done it.

It wasn’t for show. When I realized that asshole was blocking June from leaving, my protective side reared its head. The old me might have shoved the guy aside and told him to quit being a dick, but all my attention was on her.

I kissed her because I already knew I wanted her. I’d been dying to taste her since the moment she’d sauntered up to my table, and I wanted to lay my claim in front of everyone in that bar. But it wasn’t like I could tell her that. Not after agreeing to be her pretend date for the next few days.

By the time the maître d’ showed us to our table, a subtle tension had infused her curvy frame.

Yeah, I’d definitely fucked up with that kiss. The question now was, what could I do to fix it?

“So, June, do you work? Or are you independently wealthy?” I asked.

She huffed out a laugh. “Not independently wealthy, I’m afraid. But if I were, I would still work. I love what I do.”

“And what is that?”

Mouthwatering scents of seared steak and buttery potatoes infused the air as she told me about being an emergency relief coordinator. Her job sounded rewarding, but I imagined it could also be stressful as hell.

“Tell me the truth now, are you one of those super organized people?” I asked. “Do you label everything in your cupboards and have back up plans for your back up plans?”

She leaned back in the leather seat and lazily stirred her fresh gin and tonic. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Not at all. I can think of a few times when having a backup plan would have made my life a whole lot easier.”

She perked up. “Care to give me an example?”

The first moment that came to mind was one I didn’t normally share with people, but maybe giving her a glimpse of the man I used to be would give her a reason to soften towards me a little more. If not, well, we were supposed to be faking it, right?

“I was really into racing dirt bikes when I was in my early twenties. As in, I was on my way to making a career out of it. I competed in every race I could find, landed a couple of big sponsors, and I was working my way up through the ranks in the professional circuit. I had the gorgeous girlfriend, the money, the cool ass job. I was living the dream. Until the Pro Motocross Nationals.”

Her expression turned to concern. “I feel like I know where this is going.” She tipped her head back with a little shake. “You crashed, didn’t you?”

I grabbed my drink by the rim and spun it slowly to buy myself a few seconds. It was a moment in my life that I hated even thinking about, let alone talking about. “Another bike caught my back tire at the bottom of a big jump, and I went down hard.”

June’s hand drifted up to her neck, drawing my attention to the slender lines that were just begging to be sucked and nipped. “How bad?” The look of impending doom in her eyes brought me back to my story.

“It was a tight race, but the video footage showed I was hit by at least four other bikes coming over the jump before the officials intervened. All I remember is a world of pain and then nothing. I broke my leg in three places, fractured my pelvis, broke or cracked just about every rib on my left side, punctured a lung, fractured a couple vertebrae...” The list went on, but from the expression she was wearing, she got the idea. “I lost count of how many surgeries I went through, but I was in the hospital for weeks and in physical therapy for almost two years afterward.”

“Damn,” she breathed. “You’re lucky to be alive from the sound of it.”

“Very, but I didn’t think so at the time. Riding and racing dirt bikes was my life. Except, while I was laid up, the motocross world moved on. My sponsors dropped me, most of my friends stopped coming around, and that pretty girlfriend I thought loved me broke up with me because—in her words—it was all just too hard for her to process.”

June’s eyes slipped closed for a beat like she could feel my pain. Her brow pinched. “I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine what that would be like.”

“It was miserable. I’d never even considered what I would do if my career ended, and it took me a long time to pull myself together. I still had my parents, who were and are amazing. And Brandon and his family were there for me. They were godsends helping us out when I had to move back home during my recovery, which was another blow to my already fractured ego.”

“I bet, but I can definitely see why you would agree to come on this cruise when he asked.”

I shrugged. “It’s what friends do, right?”

She nodded. “Did you ever start riding again after the accident?”

“Nah. Not dirt bikes, anyway. I’m strictly a road guy these days, and no more racing.”

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