Sailor Proof (Shore Leave 1)

“Ha. Bribery. I like it.” Derrick took the turn for a small bumpy lane that led to the family camp on the shores of the lake, a mix of larger buildings like the dining hall and meeting space and smaller cottages and cabins, all with a quaint early 1900s vibe, weathered clapboard and faded colors, but well-kept, with little paths between the buildings. The view of the lake, even from the parking lot, was nothing short of stunning and was so captivating that I almost forgot to be nervous about the reunion. But then Derrick bumped my shoulder after he finished parking. “Showtime.”

“Yeah. Better get our happy couple faces on,” I joked as we exited the car and grabbed our bags.

“I draw the line at making out in the check-in line, but feel free to act like you can’t wait to be alone.” Discovering that Derrick had a robust sense of humor was one of the highlights of the day for me and wasn’t helping my efforts to avoid a giant crush on the guy. Silent, he was easier to dismiss, but this joking, conspiratorial Derrick was almost as dazzling as the scenery around us.

“Better alone than drafted for a volleyball game.” I laughed rather than admit how damn easy it would be to pretend like I wanted to jump Derrick.

“Fair enough.” Derrick strode across the lot, confident movements like he’d been here before. Much as I didn’t want a military partner, I did have to admire their decisiveness and swagger. Fuck. Even the way he squinted at the sun was sexy. I had it bad and this was only day one.

“You made it!” Clipboard in hand, my mom was out in front of the large brown historic building that housed the dining facility among other rooms.

“We did.” I greeted her with a hug. “They put you on welcome duty?”

“I volunteered.” Her grin made her look far younger, more like the mom of my childhood and less like the big-time lawyer she was now.

“I’m not surprised.” I smiled back. Maybe this week wouldn’t be so terrible.

“Speaking of chances to help out, check your messages later. I had a great idea for the kids.” Mom’s assertive tone made my optimism of a second earlier flee. Past great ideas had led to costumes and paint spills among other disasters.

“Does it involve bunking with them?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Nope, no bunkhouse for you.” She dangled a key card from her pale pink nails. “I helped Maureen do the cabin assignments. You’ll love yours. Renovated bath and fresh paint. Feels very airy and spa-like.”

“Awesome.” I snatched the key before she could change her mind.

“Thank you.” Derrick was far more gracious than me, and he too had a hug for Mom. “I’m sure we’ll love it. And thank you again for inviting me along.”

“Of course.” She gave him a fond pat before releasing him. “And Arthur, keep this one around, okay? I do love a well-mannered man.”

“Grandma!” Oliver’s brood came racing up the path, saving us from further instructions, and I deftly stepped aside as Mom was swarmed by kids.

“I think we’ll go find our place.” After waving at Oliver and his wife, I motioned to Derrick so we could make our escape.

“Don’t miss dinner!” Mom called as we set off down the path to the single cabins, which lurked farther into the trees, away from the main buildings, little pale gray boxes along the lakeshore, each with a teeny porch and welcoming planter. Little stone chimneys added to the quaint appeal. Ours was toward the end of the row, and its cheerful facade had me back to thinking that this wouldn’t be so bad.

“This is cute. Tiny, but cute.” Following Derrick onto the porch, I shifted my bag so I could work the lock.

“Let’s put our bags down before they summon us for dinner.” Derrick waited for me to open the door.

“Good id—”

Derrick’s low groan cut me off. “Oh fuck. There’s only one bed.”

Chapter Nine

Derrick

Why the fuck hadn’t I thought about the possibility of the cabin being far smaller than a traditional two-bed hotel room? I was known for my ability to think ahead. Being able to spot potential problems had kept me and my fellow sailors alive on more than one occasion. And yet, here I was, completely flummoxed by the sight in front of me.

I stood rooted to the doorstep, like that would help. But Arthur hadn’t been kidding about the cabin being tiny. The interior appeared to be one room. One room dominated by one bed that wasn’t even particularly large. The bed was on the far wall with two high-back chairs and a small table in front of the fireplace. Floor space was at a premium too. I slept months at a time on a submarine. Sleeping on the floor would be nothing, but there wasn’t a readily apparently spot where a person could bunk down without rolling into the fireplace or risking a foot to the face.