Page 19 of Hot Buttered Rum

“Apple cobbler? Well, hell, why didn’t you say so? Forget the dress and the panties.”

I couldn’t hold back a smile as I took my first bite of lobster pot pie. The buttery, flaky crust melted in my mouth. “Hmm, I’m having a food orgasm, and I’m only at the crust. Coco is nothing short of magical.”

“You noticed that too?” he asked before filling his mouth with food.

We enjoyed a few moments of silent eating, both of us lost in the incredible taste of the food.

I followed a bite with another sip of wine and decided to find out a little something about Turner. It was all a little after the fact, considering the amorous afternoon we’d spent on his boat, but I was curious to know more about the man who had somehow turned me into a shameless flirt. Before I could get out my first question, he proved to be just as curious about me.

“Coco mentioned that you are an engineer.” He swirled the remainder of wine in his glass before shooting it back.

“I am. I work with a team designing cars.”

“Very cool. I don’t think I’ve ever been with a woman engineer before.”

“You don’t think? I guess it’s safe to assume you’ve been with so many women, you can’t keep the catalog straight in your head.” I tried to use an airy tone while teasing him, but the truth was, I was pretty miffed and frankly, a little, jealous. I quickly chided myself for being so silly. Jealousy wasn’t in my nature. Or at least it hadn’t been until I met Turner.

He turned his chair to face me and leaned back casually. “Pirate, remember?”

“You weren’t until I made you one,” I said with a chin lift. I took a massive bite of lobster pie that I soon regretted as it burned the top of my mouth.

Without asking, Turner got up and walked to the sideboard where Coco had left a pitcher of cold water. He poured me a glass and returned. It helped cool my mouth and wash down the hot food.

“It’s never safe to assume. And I’ve got the catalog straight. I’ll correct my statement. I’ve never been with an engineer . . . or a woman like you before. And the catalog isn’t quite a catalog. A pamphlet, maybe.”

I put down my fork and turned toward him. “So now that we know about me—”

“I’m not done.” Turner slid his foot across the floor. He pushed it between my feet, forcing me to part my knees slightly. “Do you have someone back home? I don’t see any ring, and I’m just wondering how the hell that could be.”

His question caught me off guard. I shifted on my chair like a little kid who’d just been asked a question by the teacher that she had no good answer for. I went to my default response. “I’ve been too busy with my career to get tangled up in a relationship. And I just haven’t found the right man for my happy ending yet.”

“Happy ending? Do those actually exist outside of books?”

“I sure as hell hope so.” The words just fell from my mouth without me actually thinking about them. But it was how I felt. I badly wanted one of those novel worthy happy endings. I gazed at him, as he leaned back against the chair looking a little less menacing than he had standing in the kitchen but still totally out of place in a frilly Victorian dining room. “What about you? I know nothing about you except that you are a fisherman from a family of dentists and you have a talkative parrot. Oh, and you are quite skilled.”

“I would say it’s from a lot of practice, but I think that might get me in trouble again. As you probably already figured, I’m not a notorious pirate. Although I got Dexter from a bird rescue and I can’t vouch for his past. Some of the things that come out of his beak lead me to believe it might have been a bit shady.”

Turner tilted his head to the side. Then he reached across to push a strand of hair off my face. His touch was light, but it set my skin instantly ablaze. I took a quick sip of wine, hoping it might cool me down some. But it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“If your parents are dentists, how did you end up on a fishing boat?”

A wistful grin crossed his face as he seemed to be thinking back to a fond, distant memory.

“My parents were always busy with their dental practice. I was an only child, so my grandpa stepped in to fill the loneliness gap.” His laugh was the kind I could easily get used to. It was deep and confident, like Turner. “Grandpa was a salty ole’ dog, and I have no doubt that if he’d lived in the days of piracy, he would have been standing right there on deck below his own black flag.”

“He sounds fun. I love my grandpa, but his idea of adventure is getting green peppers on the pizza. So your grandfather is a fisherman?”

“Was. He died of lung cancer five years ago. He left me the Pickled Pepper. We spent a lot of time together on her. I decided to continue his legacy.”

“I’ll bet he’d be thrilled to know that you kept the boat and continued fishing.”

“I hope so. I’m afraid that’s about all of my tale. Nothing to rival the life of a pirate but it is what it is. I do have a deserted island though. It’s actually a piece of real estate my dad bought years ago with the intention of eventually building an island retreat. But he lost his enthusiasm for the idea, so he gave it to me. I’ve been building a cottage out there. It’s taking a lot longer than I expected, but it’s coming along.”

I sat forward with interest. “Is it far?”

“It’s not far by boat.”

“I would love to see it.”

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