Below Deck

My cheeks heat with embarrassment that I stooped to Arianna’s level. I never engage in a verbal smackdown with her because it’s pointless, and I refuse to play her childish games. When I hear a soft chuckle come from Declan, my head whips in his direction and I suddenly feel better about sticking up for myself. He quickly wipes the amused smile from his face and clears his throat, turning back to finish slicing a lime for Arianna’s vodka and soda.

Brooke has been trying to get me to tell Arianna off for a year and I’ve never had the balls to do it. Some liquid courage and the knowledge that Declan was standing right here witnessing how my stepsister treats me suddenly gave me some much needed bravery. I didn’t want him to think I let Arianna walk all over me, even if it were true. For some reason I can’t explain, I didn’t want Declan to think I was weak.

Arianna shoots daggers at me for all of three seconds, and then pulls out her cell phone and starts taking stupid, duck-face selfies.

“You wouldn’t happen to have an ice pick back there, would you?” I ask Declan, holding my glass out to him when I see he already has the cork back off the bottle anticipating my need for a refill.

“Yeah, why?” he replies, emptying the bottle into my glass before chucking it into a garbage can under the bar.

“I’d like to stab her in the back of the skull with it,” I tell him casually as I bring the glass up to my mouth.

He doesn’t hide his amusement this time, his quiet laugh tipping the corners of his mouth up into a smile that makes the dimples pop out in his cheeks.

Shit. Dimples. I’m definitely having a quick fling with this guy. No woman can resist dimples.

I move out from around the bar before I do something stupid, like lean in and lick his dimples right in front of Brooke and my evil stepsister.

He watches me go without saying a word. His piercing stare starts up that damn swarm of butterflies in my stomach all over again, as well as a tingling between my legs that makes walking back to my seat without rubbing my thighs together less than easy. I lift up my glass of wine to toast him as I walk backwards to the table.

“Thanks for the wine, Deck. Keep that ice pick handy for me, would ya?”

He grins at me before I turn around and take my seat next to Brooke.

“Soooooo, tell me everything. I tried to hear what was going on, but Malibu Barbie over there wouldn’t shut up about her tits while you were gone,” Brooke complains, pointing her thumb over her shoulder in Arianna’s direction, who is still holding her phone above her head trying to get the perfect angle for a selfie. “Also, nice work shutting her up. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

With a big grin, I take a deep breath and blurt out a reply before I lose my nerve.

“I think I’m gonna need some pointers on how to have a vacation fling.”

Brooke lets out a loud whoop and I quickly smack my hand against her mouth while I laugh at her excitement, realizing this is the first time in months I’ve actually smiled and have been excited about something.

Declan McGillis just might be the cure to all my problems.

CHAPTER 5

Declan

After cleaning up the bar area and grabbing Eddie to do our nightly check, making sure everything on the exterior is secure—all pillows and cushions put away, lounge chairs folded up, Jacuzzi covered, and pick up any other messes the guests have made—I check my watch and realize it’s after one in the morning. I’m exhausted, I’m irritated, and all I want to do is go to bed and try to forget about the woman who made me laugh tonight.

Grabbing the glassware and leftover liquor from where I left it on a tray on the bar, I head inside the ship and through the main salon, wanting nothing more than to fall into my tiny bunk, close my eyes and will away the fucking hard-on I’ve had since Mackenzie told that bitch off when she called me waiter. Never, in all my thirty-two years, has the sound of my own name out of a woman’s mouth ever made me this hard. I’ve never liked nicknames, but just hearing the soft way she called me Deck when she lifted her wine glass in a toast, and how she made me smile all over again when she brought up the ice pick, made me want to round the bar, yank her against me and see if her lips were as soft as they looked.

I’ve lost my Goddamn mind over a woman I just met and I don’t like it. As I head down the narrow stairs to the galley, the sound of pots and pans clanging to the floor make me groan, realizing I’m going to have to deal with Marcel and his fucking attitude before I can even think of trying to get Mackenzie Armstrong and the way she said my name out of my head.

Walking through the steward’s pantry, I set the tray of glasses and extra bottles of alcohol down on the counter next to the sink, cursing to myself when I hear another loud crash of pans hit the floor.

“Marcel, you really need to calm your shit. I know the guests were assholes tonight, but—”

I stop short when I get to the doorway of the galley and realize it wasn’t Marcel making all that noise in here. Ben stands in the middle of a pile of pots and pans, his body in between the thighs of a woman he’s currently got perched up on the counter in front of him. Ben is looking at me over his shoulder with a big grin on his face that doesn’t show an ounce of embarrassment at being caught, and the woman lifts one arm from around his shoulders to give me a wave, not even bothering to unwrap her legs from around Ben’s waist.

“Declan, Brooke, Brooke, Declan,” Ben introduces easily, his hands still resting on the woman’s bare thighs where he pushed the skirt of her dress up during their make-out session.