Page 50 of Rebel Bride
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What I knew about boats could barely fit in one of the triangles of my bikini. But I trusted that Hatch knew what he was doing, and that I was in good hands. Over my itsy-bitsy child bikini, I slipped on a purple-and-white checked shirt. A pair of Aurora’s capris in lilac and a floppy-brimmed straw hat completed the ensemble.
This was a motorboat, and smaller than I expected. I’d imagined I’d be stretched out on the deck like a model in a Duran Duran video. While there was room to do that, it wasn’t quite the luxury yacht experience I was used to with Dash, which sounded awfully snooty. I had never really enjoyed those summer excursions to the Cape with Dash and his family, though. I always felt too much pressure to be on, and Dash didn’t like that I wouldn’t take more than a few days off from work.
They won’t need you in the summer, babe. Hockey season is over.
I’d tried to explain that the front office staff continued to work in the off season and that the business of running the org didn’t end in June. But he hadn’t understood. He didn’t think I needed to worry about “franchise business” in my lowly position.
Frankly, it was a relief to return home from the Cape to Chicago without him. I could wear cozy sweats and hit Lula’s, the cat café (Dash wouldn’t allow any pets). I even volunteered at the animal shelter run by Ashley, Rebel player Dex O’Malley’s wife, though Dash thought I was just trying to suck up to the partner of one of the team’s elder statesmen. Everything was transactional with him.
It certainly didn’t feel like that with Hatch, who hadn’t asked me for a single thing. Instead I was the one making demands: hide me, strip me, feed me, kiss me.
I needed to stop thinking about that last one.
After about ten minutes on the water, we came to the middle of the lake and settled. Captain Hatch put on a lifejacket, tied a rope to a metal bar on the boat, then lowered the anchor carefully. After checking for something—lake sharks, perhaps?—he let the anchor out fully. Stepping back, he removed the lifejacket and his T-shirt with it.
Oh Mama.
He spied me drooling. “What?”
“Impressive. Your anchoring technique, that is.”
He smirked. “Thanks. Didn’t realize you were such an expert.”
“Oh, I’ve sailed. Boated. Trawled the waves. Dash’s family has a yacht.”
“Well, this is likely a bit more humble, but at least it doesn’t require a crew.”
“Self-sufficiency is good.”
“I was thinking more of privacy.” He took a seat and popped the lid of a cooler. “La Croix? Or something stronger?”
I peeked inside, noting cans of soda, flavored water, beer, ciders, and wine coolers. Even a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a wine cooler fan.”
“I don’t see it as a threat to my masculinity. Neither are pink shirts, liking to cook, nor eating a woman out.”
Well, then. “I’ll start with water.” Or a bucket of ice, if you have it.
He passed off a lemon water and took one for himself. I sat on the bench a couple of feet away. I drank about a third of the water, then set it to the side.
All while Hatch watched me. It no longer freaked me out, mostly because I liked when he did it. I liked how my skin tingled and my stomach fluttered.
“Could you tell me what happened with Ava?”
“After how I overreacted to that kiss, I suppose I owe you that.” He blew out a breath. “I came down here last summer and we hooked up. I’ll admit that I wasn’t really that into her, but I was at a low point—” He stopped, restarted. “I used her to make myself feel better. She wanted more. Pushed for labels, for something big to happen. Then she told me she might be pregnant.”
My mouth fell open. “Was she?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ll admit I wasn’t careful the first time with her. But later, I was. I should never have continued when I knew nothing would come of it. She finally admitted the pregnancy was more hope than reality. I knew then that I’d let it go too far.”
I felt a little bad about my mistaken read of the situation. I might have hurt her feelings last night, but if she tried to trap him with a baby … Also, Hatch’s assumptions about me being a gold digger made more sense now.
“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with her.”
“It’s okay. Besides, she’s engaged.”
“Oh, she’d throw over New York Guy in a heartbeat if she thought there was the slightest chance with you!”
