Page 58 of Ship Outta Luck

Nothing was real with her, our instant chemistry, the way she said my name… even her own name. All just some minor battle in an information war that cost me my military credibility and confidence. My heart races, the memories needling me, and I flex my hands, looking at the water. Foam forms on the crests of rolling waves, and I take a deep breath.

June is not Fiona.June is not out to get me, out to use me in any way. I know that. No matter how much my learned distrust nags at me—it lies.

I trust June.

Mostly.

Not that it matters, since I’m not in a relationship with her.

Haha. I can almost hear my therapist telling me to celebrate the small victory.Score one for team trust.The small progress surprises me.

That June Legarde, PhD and princess, is the one to elicit such a feeling—thatsurprises me more.

“You okay?” June looks up at me, her full lips quirking in a smile as she tosses her ponytail over a shoulder.

I exhale, counting down. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“Ready to go to the beach?”

“Let’s do it.” A corner of my mouth kicks up.

The props of the other boat spin to life, sending a white capped wake behind it as they maneuver back towards mainland Texas.

“Well?” She pokes me in the chest, challenge in her gaze. “You just going to stare at me all day, or are we going to get moving?”

Grunting noncommittally, a bizarre, unwelcome emotion courses through me.Off-kilter. Having my men around should make me feelbetter. But the way they looked at June, especially Thompson with his wolfish grin, irritated me. Made me… jealous.

“What’s the name of your little man-squad? Where’re your female employees?” Her finger taps against my pec again. I really shouldn’t like it so much—shouldn’t want her to keep touching me.

“They’re not a man-squad,” I say. I catch her hand, and her eyes widen. “And there are female employees.”

I just don’t want to tell her who, exactly.

June’s eyes narrow, and she tugs her hand from mine.

My fingers flex as if searching for her again.

“What, you don’t trust a woman to get the job done? Is that why she’s not here? Is that why you gave me your little ‘jump when I say jump’ macho-man bull?” Her voice drops an octave, and she holds her arms out at her sides like a monkey. “And the ‘hide when I say hide’ speech? Gotta have man parts to hang tough?” A wave splashes against the side of the boat, and her lips press together.

“No.” My voice is short, the syllable clipped.

“Well, what’s the company name?”

“That’s not what I look like. Where is this coming from?”

No way am I going to fess up to my trust issues with women. Fiona is off the table.

“Man parts?” I repeat, my brain catching up. “Princess, what the hell are you talking about? You’re thinking about my man parts?”

I grin at her, full of mischief.

Her eyes go wide, and then narrow. “How dare you.”

“You brought it up. And you kissed me, too.”

“It was a diversionary tactic,” she barks.

A laugh hurtles out of me, and she just glares. It’s not tough, though. No, she looks fucking adorable. Delicious.

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