Page 31 of Necessary Roughness

I was ready to get the hell off this boat and get back to the comfort of my beach house, to take a walk with the sand between my toes and get Brett off my mind.

But I knew we weren’t in the clear. The winds were too strong, and the waters had grown choppy. The storm was only going to intensify. We needed to hurry.

Fifteen minutes later,my prediction came true.

Leonard’s boat had started slamming against the swelling waves, and even Brett looked panicked.

“Do you think it’s bad?” he asked, moving over to sit next to Claire for comfort.

Claire nodded. “It’s worse than bad.”

“Claire!” Brett exclaimed, rising to his feet. “That’s not helpful right now. We need to calm down. It can’t bethatbad. I’ll go take a look on deck.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“No?” Brett asked, stopping dead in his tracks. “I’m sorry, but I don’t work for you. I’m not your maid or your chef. You can’t boss me?—”

Before he could finish, the boat swayed violently and Brett lost his footing, scrambling to catch himself on the wooden bar.

I pointed at his chair. “Sit down.”

Brett scoffed incredulously. “I’m not a child!”

He glanced nervously at the door to the upper deck. His voice was shrill. “I’m going to check it out.”

“Brett!” Claire protested, trying to stand in front of him to block him, but losing her footing quickly and sitting down.

But Brett brushed her hand off. “I don’t take orders from Luke Dalton!”

Claire glared at him. “So, you’re going to put your life in danger just to prove a point?”

Brett tried to laugh it off, unconvincingly. “It’s not that bad. It’s just a little shower.”

He rose to his feet again, braced himself on the bar, then walked out the door.

For some reason, every fiber of my being wanted to go after him. I wanted to chase him down, put my hands on his shoulders, and shake him back into reality.

It was stupid to go on deck during a storm.

Madness.

But I wasn’t going to follow him around, trying to ensure his safety when he had done nothing but tear me down. For months.

Nope, not going to happen, I thought as I sat next to Claire.

She looked terrified from the sounds of the howling winds.

“So…” I said, trying to make small talk and pretend I wasn’t desperate to run after Brett, “how long have you lived in California?”

Claire turned and offered nothing but a blank stare.

Suddenly, I was way more nervous about my conversation with her than I was about the storm.

Claire seemed like the type of woman who could see right past anyone’s bullshit. Especially mine.

“One,” she said, “I’m way too horrified to make small talk right now, and two, I’ve lived here all my life.”

I had no clue how to respond to that. Her cheerful demeanor had suddenly disappeared in the face of the oncoming storm.

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