Page 45 of Love on Deck

“No.” I swallowed. “Tucked me in.”

He was really quiet. “Your parents just weren’t bedtime routine people?” he asked gently.

“My parents died when Amelia was a baby. I was only four when my grandma took us in, but she worked two jobs just to make ends meet, so she was perpetually exhausted.”

“And that meant sacrificing your childhood,” he whispered.

I hesitated, drawing in a breath. “My grandma loved us, and she worked hard. I never lacked feeling like someone was watching out for me. But that someone was constantly working to provide for us, and I helped how I could.”

I shrugged off the overwhelming sadness that crushed me anytime I’d thought of my grandmother. We’d lost her a few years ago to lung cancer, and I missed her with every part of me. Since I had turned seven, I’d been Amelia’s overseer and caretaker in many ways, but losing Grandma meant Amelia and I were all we had.

“You had no other family to step in or help?”

“Both of my parents were only children and my dad lost his parents to heart disease and age. They were older when they had him. My grandma’s husband was out of the picture long before we entered it. We just didn’t have anyone else.”

Silence fell over us. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’m happy to tuck you in whenever you want.”

I laughed lightly, my body warming, my heart thudding.

Jack seemed to sense that I was done talking. He pulled my hand up and pressed a kiss to the underside of my wrist. “Good night, Lo.”

My throat clogged with emotion. I squeezed his fingers and let him hold my hand, resting both of ours together on his chest. We lay like that until my arm went numb and tingly. I pulled my hand from his grip and rolled over before falling asleep.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JACK

The image of Lauren in a bathing suit last night had been everything I could hope for and more—elegant and beautiful despite being somewhat modestly covered. She’d had good taste last night. But somewhere in the night, her sense of fashion took a nosedive. The image of Lauren prepared for a day snorkeling in the Caribbean was going too far. Her outfit resembled a nun’s habit more than swimwear. Black with long sleeves, she was covered from her neck to her wrists in a rash guard with long, dark board shorts that reached her knees.

Yet still she managed to look sleek. Maybe that was due in part to the return of the low, conservative ponytail.

“I thought you only brought two swimsuits,” I said when she stepped from the bathroom.

Lauren approached the vanity mirror and looked at me through the reflection before taking out her ponytail and dividing her hair into two sections. “This isn’t a swimsuit.”

“I agree,” I said with conviction.

“It’s insurance.”

“Against men?”

She started to twist the hair at the front of her hairline in an intricate pattern. Oh, she was French braiding it. “First off, I don’t dress for men.”

“Nope. You dress for the job you want.”

The way her eyes flicked to me again made me wonder if I was correct. “Second off, this is one of those times when function trumps fashion. I burn really easily.”

Now I felt bad for giving her a hard time. She did have super pale skin.

Lauren applied sunscreen to her face and adjusted the straps at her shoulder beneath the rash guard. “I was supposed to wear the other suit underneath my rash guard. This one doesn’t really work well.” She pulled a face, trying to move the straps again. “Gosh, this is so tight. It didn’t feel this bad when I tried it on at home.”

“Why can’t you just wear the other suit beneath it then?” I asked.

“It’s ripped in a sensitive location.”

“But it’ll be under that,” I said, swirling my hands to indicate her outfit. “It’ll be hidden.”

She shook her head. “I won’t risk it. What if I tear these shorts on a rock or something? Then I’m not covered.”

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