A Bad Boy for Christmas (12 page)

*     *     *

There was something
altogether naughty about sneaking Mia on board the family cruiser and raiding it for towels before he and he alone went to collect her wet clothing. The need to touch her still rode him hard. It was an ache in his chest, a snarling, looping memo in his brain.

Mia. My beloved. Mine.

And then Eli appeared as he was picking up a wet sandal, and Cutter straightened and waited for his little brother to pass judgment. Eli looked thoughtfully at him, and then at the clothes.

“Mia went swimming?”

“Yes.” Keep it simple.

“Voluntarily?”

“Maybe not.” Cutter gestured towards the cruiser, belatedly noticing the pink panties in his hand. “She’s on the boat, raiding it for towels.”

“Handy.”

“Always.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Eli asked next.

“That would be a no. But I’m doing it anyway,” he said and watched in silence as Mia appeared from the hatch of the cabin cruiser, a blue and white striped towel encasing slender curves, her wet hair piled high on her head and fastened with what looked like a bit of curtain rope.

She looked up, saw them and smiled. “Oh, hey Eli.”

“Hey.”

“Are you remaking those clothes?” she asked next.

“Patient, isn’t she?” Cutter murmured.

“You love it that a woman finally has your measure,” Eli countered.

“I do.” May as well come clean. It wasn’t as if Eli couldn’t read him like a book anyway. “I like everything about her, especially how she keeps me on my toes. I don’t know how the folks are going to take it, or how Nash is going to feel about it, but I’m done with hiding where my head’s at. I want her. I’m going after her.”

“Caleb’s going to be so bummed.”

Cutter narrowed his eyes, and not because of the sun. “And why’s that?”

“I bet him you wouldn’t last another day without acting. Caleb thought you’d last the week.”

“Huh.”

“You should take her somewhere while those clothes dry off. Like on a date. You should take her to the houseboat.”

“Seriously?” Cutter stared at his little brother in open astonishment. “Did you just give me
dating
advice? You, the man who had to be coerced into dating at all?”

“Could be that there’s also a bet underway regarding how soon you take her home.

“Hey, Mia?” his little brother called. “If you take Cutter to his houseboat this afternoon I win a year’s supply of Mars bars.”

“What’s in it for me?” she called.

Eli pointed his thumb in Cutter’s direction. “Him.”

Mia grinned. “What else you got?”

“Half-a-year’s worth of Mars bars,” Eli offered.

“Throw in a couple of fishing trips and you’re on. I’ve been reading up on game fishing. I want to tag me a marlin.”

“Done!”

“
Not
done!” Cutter may as well add to the idiocy, as opposed to simply being swept up in it. “I’m working tonight and taking Nash with me. I can play houseboat tomorrow, but
only
if Eli’s willing to swap shifts.”

“Eli?” Mia smiled winningly. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, Eli.” Never let it be said that Cutter Joe Jackson couldn’t be ruthless when he wanted something. “What do you think?”

“I’ll do it. But only because I love my big brother and want to support him in his madness.” And for Cutter’s ears only, “We really should let her negotiate all our contracts from here on in.”

“Well, there’s sure as hell no point
you
doing it.”

Eli smiled. “I like her. I like the fire she lights in you. Not sure you need my seal of approval but there it is.”

Eli was half way along the jetty before Cutter spoke again. “Eli.”

His little brother turned.

“Thanks.”

“G
uess what Beryl
gave me today?” Mia said to Nash the following day as he entered the apartment above the tattoo shop. He looked tired, yet content. As if a night on a trawler, in the company of one of his brothers, had somehow made him happy.

“A raise?” he teased.

“A name. Clarice Oates. Clarry, as she likes to be called.”

“Who is she?”

“Apparently, around thirty-one years ago, she was your mother’s best friend.”

Nash slumped onto the stool beside the kitchen bench and regarded her warily.

“I also have it on good authority that if you want to go and see her, she’ll have no problem reminiscing about the past. Beryl says she’s good at it. Call first.”

“You got her number as well?”

“I did. I’m thorough when I sleuth.” She fished the piece of paper with the name and number on it from her pocket and handed it over. “You could see her tomorrow. We could be out of here by the weekend.”

“What about Cutter?”

Mia couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her face. “That darling man is absolutely
as advertised
. It was an honor and a privilege.”

“No repeat performance?”

“Maybe one or two. He runs on quite the schedule and I promised not to derail him.”

“You promise a lot of things.”

“Do I detect criticism?” She did. She hated when Nash called her on her bullshit. “Okay, yes, I promised I was going to leave him alone and I didn’t. I put my needs before yours
and
his. It was a stupid, selfish move on my part and you know what the worst of it is? I still can’t bring myself to regret it.” Mia dropped her gaze and scratched at a mark on the bench. “It’s the weirdest thing.”

“You like him a lot.”

Mia nodded, without looking up. “Pretty sure I’m one of many.”

“Ever thought of keeping him?”

She really hadn’t. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t think it’s likely. He’s all about family. I’m not that way at all.”

Nash held up the piece of paper she’d just given him. “You take care of me. You’d be just as fiercely family-minded as he is if you had any family worth keeping. You could create one with him.”

“Not what he’s offering.”

“You don’t know what he’s offering.”

“I know it’s not that. This is a short-term thing.”

Nash snorted. “Yeah. That’s why he’s risking my wrath if he hurts you, and his father’s rage for taking up with you in the first place. For a fling that he can get any time from any one. Do you really think he’s not fully invested in you? Since when has self-delusion been your thing?”

Never.

Never had self-delusion been her friend. “Okay, I’m waiting to see what he wants from me. Maybe a long-distance relationship of some kind. Maybe fishermen have off-seasons.”

“Would you be happy with that?”

“Got a feeling I’d be happy with table scraps when it comes to him,” she admitted quietly.

“Mia.” Nash sounded disappointed in her. “If you want more,
ask
for it.”

“You think he’ll give?”

“More than anyone I know. Look at what he does and what he shows.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re his best bro.”

“Stop it.” Nash gave her the big brother stare. “Enough with the flashy backchat because you don’t want to address the real issue. Tell him what you want from him. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I know. I just—how do you do it?” she asked quietly. “How do you want something huge and go all out for it and open yourself up to rejection like that?”

“You have to believe that what you want is worth it. And that you’re worth it.” Nash hit her with the shadow of a smile after that. “And you have to be prepared to fail.”

*     *     *

A date with
a woman wasn’t exactly a rarity for Cutter. Taking Mia to the houseboat was. Although ostensibly for the use of the entire family, Cutter considered the houseboat his sanctuary. He guarded it religiously.

If he needed any more proof that Mia wasn’t like other women, this was it.

Eli was taking the trawler out tonight so that Cutter could have some down time. That Cutter’s day off involved yet more boats and water was all part of the life he lived and loved. And then there was Mia and her smile and the shirt of his she wore to keep the sun off her skin, a shirt that fell to creamy mid-thigh and felt like ownership. She stood beside him, uncommonly silent as he babied the cruiser away from the berth.

She’d been quiet ever since he’d picked her up for their date. The brazen woman he thought he almost knew had given way to a far more reflective one.

They were heading upriver rather than out to sea and there would be no letting the cruiser rip on this trip. Instead it was a slow and steady commute. He did it almost every day, he could do it blindfolded or in his sleep and it never failed to unwind him. “You want the wheel?” he asked as he set a course.

“Me?” She looked surprised but not unwilling.

“Why not? Live and learn.”

She ventured to his side and stayed there as he showed her the basics.

“Keep between the buoys, stay at this speed and if anything comes at you from starboard—meaning your right—keep out of its way.”

“Captain Mia,” she said, planting her feet and taking the wheel. “I can visualize it.”

“Keep visualizing.” This river was his backyard and there was no way they could come to any real harm here. “I’m right here if you need me.”

“Best words in the English language,” she murmured and shot him a quick smile.

“Three words to describe yourself,” he said. “What are they?”

“Resilient,” she said, venturing readily into confession. “I’ve had to be, but I like to think it’s a good quality in a person regardless of whether it’s actually needed.”

“I agree. I admire resilience. Second word.”

“Combative. And I know that’s not a very feminine trait, but I’m proud of it. It gets me by and I don’t know how to be any other way. Aids the resilience.”

“I like it,” he said.

“You don’t feel threatened?”

“Trust me, I’m confident enough. Ask anyone. Swing a fraction to the left. Doesn’t matter today but it gets shallow here when the tide’s out.”

She steered the boat to the left and he let her do it without interference. “Perfect.” He kissed the spot behind her ear where auburn curls beckoned.

“Is this positive reinforcement?”

“Could be just a kiss.”

“You’re kind of deadly in your simplicity.”

“Taking that as a compliment.”

“It’s meant as one.”

He let the late afternoon sun and Mia’s words wash over him and he was content.

“You haven’t asked me for my third word,” she said.

“Do you want to give it?”

“No, because it’s a flaw and a big one. But I’ll give it to you anyway. Because you’re giving me something that I’m going to treasure. You make me feel cherished and protected and for all my combative resilience, I love that feeling. My third word is scared. Because I so often am.”

“Isn’t that almost the opposite of the others?”

“I’m a complex girl. They co-exist.”

He tried to look past her tough exterior to see what she might fear, but came up empty. “Scared of what?”

She gave a little shrug and a quick, nervous smile. “Scared of not being noticed—that’s a big one, so I tend to overcompensate. Scared of being left behind. Scared that I’m too difficult and high-maintenance for people to bother with. I’m not soothing to be around, I know that. I wear people out.”