Page 108 of His Secret Gift

In any regard, my head is still killing me, and I feel like I’m spinning in circles as I stare at the ceiling of my quarters on the yacht.

A knock at the door steadies me a bit. Then, I feel even better when Wesley walks in, announcing himself in the dark room. Except when I remember the “talk” he’d likely just given the crew. We went over the general punch list together, and each one made me cringe. Although I also knew they needed to be said.

I was just grateful he agreed to do it without me present.

Struggling for a bit, I eventually sit up with my legs draped on the side of the bed. “Well? How’d it go?”

He takes off his captain hat and sits on a desk chair near me. Since it’s still bright out, I have my black out shades over the windows, but I can still make out his figure.

“Good, good. Everyone seemed receptive about stopping the rumors and instead focusing on their jobs aboard the ship.”

I nod. “Okay. That’s good… and Kayla?” I inquire with my eyebrow raised.

“She seemed fine.”

I sigh in relief. “Good.” If she’s really able to move on from this, she’s more mature, despite her naïve perception at times, than most of the women I’ve ever dated.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me. I should get back—”

“Of course. Thank you, Bryant.”

Before leaving out the door, he turns around and nods his head.

I appreciate his friendship and comradery more than I could probably ever communicate with words.

But for now, I know I won’t be doing any good for anyone until I recuperate from the poison or whatever Harper snuck into my drink.

So, I lay back, close my eyes, and hope for relief when they open again.

Thankfully, it seemslike a few hours of peaceful sleep did just the trick because I feel refreshed and at full capacity later.

With that, I know that I want to make everything up to Kayla.

But first, I have to make dinner for tonight. Kindly, Denver offered to fill in for me during lunchtime, but I find his chaotic mess when I enter the kitchen later.

From the residue left behind, I can guess that he made grilled cheese and tomato soup for the crew.

“Want some help in here?” I hear a feminine voice offer as I started to collect pans and put them in the sink.

When I turn around, I see Kayla. She’s in her uniform, has her light hair back in a ponytail with her signature white bow, and leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. Her greeneyes are reflecting the minimal amount of light flooding through the small window.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

She then peels herself off the wall and starts helping me.

First thing’s first, we tackle the dishes—I wash while she dries.

“So…” I ask when the last utensil has been cleaned, and she’s toweling it off before putting it in the proper drawer.

“Yeah?”

I take my hands and steady myself against the counter behind me. “How are you doing?”

She shrugs and pouts. “I’m fine. How are you?” Then, looking at me from head to toe, she opines, “You certainly look better.”

“I’m feeling it, too. Thank goodness.”

She grins meekly. “Yeah.”

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