Chapter Eighteen
Julian
For the past few weeks, I’d done my best to give Josephine her space. Every urge that wasn’t strictly wholesome, I’d ignored. Mostly. We danced around each other, flirting and teasing, assuming it was all in good fun. Now, as I watched her accept a margarita from Dean and laugh at whatever babble he was throwing her way, I fought the desire to walk closer and slip my hand beneath her cover-up. I’d run my hand along the curve of her ass and up over her hip. The bikini offered up no shortage of soft skin, ready for exploration.
Once she had her drink, she glanced over her shoulder and found me sitting against the edge of the boat. I didn’t look away and she tilted her head in question. I held my beer up and smiled. She laughed and followed suit, holding her margarita up in a long-distance salute.
My gaze traveled over her as she took the first sip of her drink. The sun shined through the thin cotton and for once I was graced with every inch of her hourglass figure. Had she worn that outfit knowing full well it would drive me insane? Had she tied that string around her neck considering the fact that I’d be the one untying it at the end of the day?
I gulped down another sip of her beer and stared out at the horizon, trying to subdue the caveman part of my brain. The beer did little to soothe the ache caused by Josephine.
Fuck.
As much as I wanted Josephine, I had to remember that she was my employee.
I needed to get laid. I needed one night with someone less vulnerable, less employed by me. Josephine had moved to New York a month ago. She had no friends, no connections. If something happened, I’d most likely be her emergency contact. That knowledge came with certain responsibilities. Sinking my dick into her would be an amateur move, something I would have gladly done in my twenties, too preoccupied with the ache in my pants to worry about the consequences of my actions. I could only imagine the conversation she’d have with her parents. “Yeah, my job is good. My boss tried to fuck me on a boat yesterday.”
“How ya holdin’ up, champ? You look like you’re about to crush that beer bottle in your hand,” Dean said, patting my shoulder as he took the seat beside me.
“Great,” I muttered, squinting out toward the ocean.
“Are you pissed I invited Jo?” he asked, leaning back against the cushion.
I thought of how to answer and then I caught the tail end of her laugh. Fuck me. Fuck me.
“I think I’m in trouble with that situation,” I offered, not bothering to turn his way.
Dean was the gloating type. There was no need to feed his ego.
He laughed and hung his head. “Took you three weeks to realize something I saw the first five minutes I was around you two.”
“Maybe you’re a fucking psychic,” I muttered sarcastically, angry at the wrong person.
He patted my shoulder.
“You need to relax. We’re on a boat, my friend. Not to mention, we have a dozen ladies onboard who would be more than willing to deal with that little problem Jo has caused in your pants.”
“What did I cause?” Jo asked, a few feet back.
I squeezed my eyes closed and willed her to walk away.
“Julian?” she asked.
I ignored her.
Dean shook his head and moved away. “C’mon, Jo. I’ll make you another margarita. Julian is having a little temper tantrum.”
I gripped my beer and stared down at the label with every ounce of willpower I had.
“Why?” she asked as Dean wrapped his arm around her shoulders and dragged her away.
Thank god Josephine had the sense to follow him.
I stayed right where I was and finished off the beer I stole from Josephine with a sense of determination. As soon as I was done, I popped the cap off another one. Drinking away my problems was a new endeavor for me, one that I knew would never work in the long run. For now, I was only concerned with the next six hours (i.e. being stuck on a fucking boat with Josephine while my hormones raged inside me like a fourteen-year-old).
My plan was to drink beer until my vision blurred and my limbs went numb. That way I wouldn’t be in any danger of doing something stupid with Jo. I’d fully committed to my drinking-induced-coma plan when one of Dean’s friends, Kiki or Kenzie or something, sidled up beside me on the edge of the deck.
“Is that one for me?” she cooed, glancing down at the beer beside my foot. I glanced at her, back down to the drink, and then I shrugged. I wanted to tell her to go find her own drink. I had no clue how long we were sailing and there was a finite amount of liquor, but if she wanted to steal my beer, then so be it. I wasn’t an asshole.
“All right then,” she said with a laugh, like I was being funny.
I wasn’t.
“Are you usually this quiet?” she asked, turning toward me so that her knee bumped against mine. I studied the contact, wondering if there would have been a spark between us before Josephine had weaseled her way into my life, cause there sure as shit wasn’t one now.
I took a deep breath and cut her some slack.
“No. I’m in a quiet mood today,” I muttered.
“Strong and silent type, eh?”
I ignored the urge to turn around and find Josephine, to see if she was hanging out with Dean or if she’d found a different guy to spend time with. There were plenty of guys on the boat. Plenty of them who were smart enough to realize Josephine was the best option, the only option, to spend time with during our voyage out into the…
Where?
The New York harbor?
“Where the hell are we even going?”
The girl beside me giggled again. “Out into the open-ocean! Like real sailors!”
I scanned over her. Sailors don’t wear high heels, but I decided not to point that out to her.
“You know what? On second thought, I think I’m going to need that beer back.”
She scrunched her brows in confusion.
I pointed to the drink in her hand.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
That pretty much sealed my fate. She muttered something about me being a brooding asshole as I walked away, but I just tipped my bottle to her and swallowed down another mouthful of now-lukewarm beer.
Cheers, assholes.
After my fifth beer, I knew I’d made a mistake. I needed to slow down. We were in open ocean, out far enough that if I decided I’d had enough and wanted to jump ship, I’d only manage to swim back about halfway before getting eaten by sharks. I cringed at the thought. As terrible as that experience sounded, at least I’d be done with the charade I was playing. I’d be far away from Josephine and her siren call.
“What’s your plan here, Julian? To drink up all of my good beer until we’re left with the girly shit?” Dean asked, leaning against the rail next to me.
I ignored his line of questioning and peered over my shoulder to see if Josephine was still chatting with some guy near the bow of the ship.
“Who’s that she’s talking to?” I asked, lacking my usual knack for subtlety.
“That’s Eric, one of my managers at The Merchant.”
He was looking at Jo like she was water in the desert.
“Is he into women?” I asked.
Dean choked on his beer.
“I’m not sure. Want me to ask if he’s interested in you?”
I resisted the urge to punch him in the face.
“Why don’t you go tell him that if he keeps talking to Jo, we’re going to have a big problem.”
Even to my drunk ears, I knew I sounded like a douchebag, and not even an intimidating douchebag at that.
“Wow. You want me to tell him you’ll be waiting for him by the flagpole at recess?”
Dean was laughing, but I couldn’t find the humor in the situation. I was frustrated beyond my boiling point. Something was about to happen and if I wasn’t careful, I’d do something that could ruin my relationship with Jo.
“Well, if you don’t like them talking, I wouldn’t turn around now,” he said.
Of course, like a fucking idiot, I turned to look over my shoulder and saw Eric rubbing sunscreen on Josephine. She’d pulled her cover-up down to expose her shoulders and back, and Eric looked like a man finding a bag of treasure at the end of a rainbow.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Dean shook his head. “It’s nothing, man. They aren’t fucking, dude.”
“Yet!” I said, throwing my empty beer bottle into the bin a few feet away. The glass slammed against the other bottles as I pushed off the railing.
“Where are you going?” Dean asked as I walked away, toward my demise.
“To get Josephine.”
He laughed. “Try not to get any blood on my boat in the process.”
I wasn’t going to make any promises.