Page 51 of Faking Romance

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“I’m glad we stayed,” Roxy murmurs against my ear as Pierce steers the boat through a canal near his home. Roxy is pressed against my side on a double seat at the back of the boat. My arm is around her shoulders. I hate admitting that I love her here with me. It took all my willpower not to peel off her clothes this morning, but Licorice had made a bed between Roxy’s breasts and the two of them were fast asleep when I woke, so I went for a run in Pierce’s gym and showered before waking her with a gentle kiss.

She called it aSleeping Beautymoment and smiled against my lips and damn it if I didn’t love everything about that.

“Let it rip, Pierce! We need speed,” Kallen chuckles as we start toward Pierce’s house after cruising around for two hours.

Pierce starts speeding up and heads out around the corner of the channel. As we turn, a large boat appears around the corner. He slows and turns abruptly. I grab the seat cushion as the boat pitches high on one side, then another, and then higher. I go to grab Roxy but then as Pierce tries to throttle the boat to get out of the enormous wake, she grabs the side of the boat, and her hand slips. She goes flying overboard.

“Roxy!” I scream, and without any other thought, I leap in after her.

“Fuck. Man overboard!” Pierce yells and I hear the engine kick off.

I look around wildly, trying to spot Roxy. Her head pops up to the surface and I grab her, pulling her against me as I kick my legs. “I got you, baby. I got you,” I whisper as I hold her trembling body. Thank God it’s not too cold, but it’s still chilly in the morning with the lake breeze.

“Here,” Kallen says as he tosses us a life raft. We stupidly didn’t have life jackets on and I’m kicking myself for yet another failure this weekend that could have ended in tragedy. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I grab the life raft and manage to get us to the little ladder on the back of the boat. Pierce is there, helping to pull us up, taking Roxy from me while Haven wraps her in a warm blanket.

“You OK?” he asks, his face laced with concern.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I say but mostly I’m pissed at the boat that came out of nowhere and almost killed my fake girlfriend…my real girlfriend? I don’t even know what we are now.

“Roxy, you OK?” he asks as he bends down to examine her.

“I—I’m OK,” she stammers as I sit down next to her and begin rubbing her arms, trying to raise both our body temperatures.

“Let’s get her back. She needs a warm shower and some dry clothes. And so do I,” I say, glad we aren’t far from the house.

Pierce carefully maneuvers us home. He pulls up and I help Roxy out of the boat. Her lips are a little blue as I take her in my arms even though she protests.

“I’m fine,” she protests.

“Not happening. We are getting you in the shower now,” I growl as I carry her up to the house with everyone in tow.

“I’ll make tea,” Haven offers.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Pierce adds. “Sorry,” he mouths. It’s not his fault. The other boat was in the wrong, cutting so close to the channel at a speed higher than it should have been. And the fact they didn’t even stop when we went overboard makes me rage with anger.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll just get us warmed up before we head home,” I assure them as I give him a tight smile. I know they are concerned but not nearly as concerned as I am.

I carry Roxy straight into the bathroom and turn on the shower. I start peeling off her clothes and mine. She slaps me away.

“I got it,” she mumbles.

“Let me help,” I offer as I dry myself with a towel from the warming rack and start putting on warm, dry clothes.

“Gray! I. Got. It.” She glares at me.

I put my hands up in defeat. “OK, OK. I’m just trying to help.”

Sighing, she pulls her wet shirt over her head. I swallow hard. Her white bra might as well be translucent and damn her breasts are gorgeous. I’m definitely going to hell for thinking of them like this considering what just happened.

“Uh, I need to get out of these wet clothes,” she mutters as she motions for me to leave.

“OK.” I start to step back, but instead, I step forward and pull her tightly against me, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” I say.

“It’s not your fault. That other boat was clearly driven by an asshole,” she says.

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