Page 66 of Bracing The Storm

I force all that stupid hope to the back of my mind before I start building castles in the air. As long as we haven’t defined anything, I’m not going to let myself daydream of a future with this man.

“You’re heading out to sea?” I ask as the meaning of what he’s about to do dawns on me.

“Yes.”

I may not know anything about ships and deep waters, but it sounds dangerous.

“I’m coming with you,” I find myself saying before I can change my mind.

“No, Lori.” He releases me and shakes his head. “That’s out of the question. The weather’s too unpredictable and we’re talking about the open sea. It’s too dangerous.” His tone leaves no room for discussion.

“I don’t care. I’m not letting you go alone.” I set my jaw stubbornly, ready to stare him into surrender if need be.

“Have you ever witnessed a storm on the open sea?” Patrick asks.

“Let me think.” I tap my fingers against my lips as I flick through all the movies I’ve watched in my life. The closest I’ve ever gotten to anything like this is when Dwayne Johnson tried to save the world on Netflix, though I can’t recall whether it was a hurricane or maybe something like an earthquake. It might not have been a boat but a helicopter. Maybe it was a plane after all?

“There’s my answer,” Patrick says. “Have you ever evenbeenon a boat, Lori?”

I hesitate. Does a sightseeing cruise around the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island count? It was quite chilly that day and the sky was a bit overcast so, the way I see it, Idohave some experience.

He groans. “Absolutely not.” Clearly, the guy doesn’t know when to give up.

I cross my arms over my chest, prepared to stand my ground. I might not be a fan of storms and my stomach is already turning at the thought of being tossed around in a boat with the rain whipping against my skin, but it can’t be as bad as the movies make it out to be. They add special effects for a reason.

“Like it or not, I’m coming with you, Patrick.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “But only because I have no time to waste arguing with you. And from what I’ve seen of you so far, you don’t strike me as the kind that backs down.”

Never!

In fact, the Merriam-Webster dictionary should have my name added to the definition of the word “mule”.

Lori “the mule” Crest.

However, that’s something the hot guy doesn’t need to know. At least not before he’s fallen deeply and madly in love with me, and is no longer running for the hills at the slightest tinkle of an alarm bell.

“I have my moments.” I shoot him a grin and head for the door, calling over my shoulder, “Let me get a sweater. And don’t you dare head out without me because I’ll come after you.”

“Why wouldn’t that surprise me?” Patrick mumbles. “Can you put on a pair of waterproof boots? You’ll need them.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Never mind the waterproof boots!

Patrick should have advised me to slip into a waterproof bodysuit, preferably one that comes with heating pads. We’ve barely stepped onto the boat and my clothes are already soaking wet. My hair’s hanging in my eyes in limp strands, and my skin feels like I’ve just jumped out of a hot shower and right into a freezing arctic storm.

The rescue mission is mostly comprised of men. Commands are coming so fast I can barely keep up. Luckily, no one’s talking to me. In fact, I doubt anyone’s even registered my useless presence.

“Move it, lads!” a man yells.

“Look for any sign of a flare!” someone else shouts.

By that I assume he’s talking about one of those rescue lights that lost people use in movies, though I can’t be sure because I’ve never seen one in real life. I’ve also never seen the ocean up close and at its worst—angry waves that keep throwing the boat left and right, barely giving us a moment of rest before the next wave hits harder than the ones before. My stomach is in knots, ready to rid itself of the little food I had for lunch at the café. My knuckles are hurting from the effort to hold on to a safety rope,like Patrick instructed me to do before he dove right into the action.

Literally.

I catch a glimpse of him yelling something at the other men, right before someone switches on a beacon of light and swings it around to illuminate the dark surface of the water. It looks deep and menacing. For the umpteenth time, I’m actually questioning the sanity of my decision to tag along. Clearly, these men aren’t doing this for the first time in their lives. I, on the other hand—well, let’s not go there.

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