Page 9 of Stranded

“Hey. Back up a little, all right?”

The guy’s voice carries a kind of take-charge attitude that makes me shiver right down to the tips of my toes. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to him.

I’m teetering on the edge of the dock like an excitable puppy. If I have to plead my case, I will. I’ll lie, if that works better. Hell, I’ll board the ferry like a freaking pirate—or the slutty Halloween version of a pirate.

“Back?” I echo my possible-rescuer.

He bends to grab something off the floor of the boat as the nose of the ferry touches the wharf. The boat starts to pivot away, and I find myself just talking faster.

“I-I’m sorry. I just want a ride. I’ll explain! Please don’t leave me stranded?—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he says. “Easy there. I’m not going to.”

There’s a real warmth in the voice breaking the darkness. He’s not confused or annoyed at me or anything.

Thud.

The skipper just tossed a whole coil of rope my way, but before I can even flinch away, it’s already hit its mark. The lasso is snaked perfectly around the cleat just a few feet away from me.

“Oh. Duh.” My cheeks are burning as I sheepishly shuffle out of the way—not that it helps now. He just wanted me out of the way for a minute… not forever. “Back.”

“Yeah. Lucky for you, I spend a lot of time playing with this rope.”

Well,that’san opportunity for innuendo if I’ve ever heard one.

I clamp my mouth shut, trying to keep my giggle inside as the man on the boat hauls on the rope like it weighs nothing, his biceps bulging out of his T-shirt. Then the boat gently bumps the wharf.

I’m finally face-to-face with my rescuer, and… holy shit, he’s gorgeous.

The guy’s in his mid-twenties, with short brown hair and a jawline that’s sharp as hell. I can’t tell the colour of his eyes, but they crinkle with a soft amusement that makes me instantly feel better about everything.

In fact, it’s his whole energy. I don’t think I’ve seen him before in my life, but I trust him.

I feel… safe.

“You looked lost,” the skipper says with a grin, still holding onto the rope. “Need a lift?”

“Oh my god thank you yeah, I—” my stream-of-consciousness suddenly shuts off as my brain kicks in. He saidlookedlost? “Wait. You saw me on the beach?”

He answers without hesitation. “Yeah.”

What the hell did I do down there? I mean… I know exactly what I did. I’m just hoping I did somethingelsethat warranted rescuing. Maybe he saw me screaming in frustration or pacing back and forth.

Or… maybe he saw me strip naked and test the water.

I duck my head so I can peek up at him through my eyelashes, tugging my hoodie zipper down a little bit. “Allof me on the beach?”

“Well…” the guy trails off, watching me thoughtfully.

Thoughtful? Not a well-known recipe for Hot Sexy Sailor Time. But at least he isn’t making fun of me, so I’m going to choose to cling to hope. Maybe he saw something he liked, and he’s here to rescue meandmy hopes of getting laid.

“Mmhmm?”

The skipper finally clears his throat. “Uh… I don’t know how long you were there.”

I laugh. He should win an award for the most chivalrous way to say, ‘Yes, I definitely saw you stripping naked and running around like you’re having a real low point in your life.’

“So…” He’s still holding the rope in one strong hand as he offers me the other. “Want a ride?”

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