Double Daddy Trouble

“What the fuck?” I snapped at him, glaring daggers.

“You’re my boss, Mr. Kincaid, but I’m not going to let you kill yourself,” he said in an apologetic tone as I sat up, shaking my arms out. I grunted in response, casting another dirty look at him before I stood up slowly.

I was pissed at him, but the rational part of me knew he was just doing his job. I’d thank him with a pay raise when I cooled off, but I wasn’t about to let him know that just then.

“I’m taking ten,” I told him curtly before leaving the gym and heading for the deck.

I didn’t know what to be more angry about: the way I treated Jillian, or the fact that I wasn’t able to get her out of my head.

I hated how I’d talked to her on the ship, and I knew it was wrong even as the words came out of my mouth. But I didn’t try to push her away just for me. Jeff was a big part of her business. If something came between the two of them, it could seriously hurt her career. As unbelievable and breathtaking as the past week had been, I knew Jillian was the kind of person who deserved a career like that, without stupid stuff like a week-long fling getting in the way.

The thought of that just made me more angry, though. Was it just a week-long fling? I knew it wasn’t. I’d felt things with Jillian I hadn’t felt with anyone else, even if I didn’t know what that meant. But I did know that we had to pretend it had been that.

I heard my phone chime, and I took it out to see an email from Jillian. My heart did a somersault at the sight of her name, and I gave my head a shake. What the hell? Was I in high school to be feeling like this over just getting a message from her?

But if she’d wanted to say something personal, she’d have called. And sure enough, when I flicked the email open, it was a curt note with a professional tone.

It said she was mid-flight to San Diego, to my surprise. Apparently, she had gotten a last-minute notice about a client coming in from Hawaii who had another yacht to sell, and that this one couldn’t wait. It was an impersonal apology for making me wait a little longer, with a note that she hoped I would understand.

I frowned and wanted to chuck my phone into the water. I didn’t care about the yacht, of course. While I had Jillian out on the water, I had even forgotten a few times that I was selling it. But with her gone, it meant that it was all the more likely I’d get what I’d asked for by sending her away.

Maybe that was for the better. But my heart wanted to be wrong.

As I leaned on the railing of the yacht, I caught sight of someone tall and broad-shouldered storming down the marina, and my eyebrows furrowed. When I realized that someone was Jeff, I gripped the railing tighter, my jaw clenching.

By the way he was heading toward the yacht, I could tell that pretending wasn’t on the table.

“Bruin!” he shouted as soon as he was close enough to be in hearing distance. “Bruin, I know that’s you up there! We need to talk, now!”

“Fuck,” I muttered. It was tempting to make a gesture to pretend I couldn’t hear him, but I was past that kind of childishness.

“Sir,” Miguel called from behind me, having rushed out to the deck. “Would you like me to call security?”

“No,” I said. “That’s Jeff Hargrove. I’ll deal with him.”

I strode past a nervous Miguel and made my way down to the gangway, where Jeff was waiting with crossed arms. I kept my face stern and my stride confident as I crossed the gang onto the dock and crossed my own arms, staring him in the eye.

“Good to know you haven’t lost your nerve over the years,” Jeff said, and I knew exactly what he meant by his tone, but I wasn’t about to play ball with him that easily. Not with the mood I was in at that moment.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Bruin,” he said, “I was your roommate for years, I can tell when something is up.”

I raised my eyebrows, looking around the dock curiously. “I’d love to hear what it is.”

Jeff scowled. “I said, don’t play dumb. Jillian and I talk almost every day. She tells me she has food poisoning and suddenly can’t communicate at all for a week, and at the same time, your yacht vanishes from the marina. After what we talked about at the bar, did you think I just wouldn’t put two and two together? How stupid do you think I am?”

I put my hands on my hips, squaring off defensively. “I was off on my own business, Jeff,” I said. In all honesty, I was just being an asshole by dragging this out, because I wanted someone to take the anger out on. “Jillian was probably off overworking herself to take care of more business for you.”

He took a step closer, but I held my ground.

“Do not pretend that you can use this to take pot-shots at me,” he growled. “Bruin, cut the crap, seriously. I know Jillian went on the yacht with you to wherever you went. She had a tan, for God’s sakes. I thought we were clear when we talked in the bar.”

I rolled my eyes, looking away for a moment, then glaring back at Jeff. My instinct was to start mouthing off about how Jillian and I had spent the week having mind-blowing sex. I wanted to fly off the handle at him and tell him all about how happy she was, how great my cock made her feel, how much she needed a break from everything and could live so much more if she weren’t under Jeff’s thumb.

But Jeff and I had history. A lot of history. And as angry as I was, I wasn’t going to th

row that all away just because I was pissed.