Page 3 of Grounds for Love

Not a chance in hell of the hookup she wants ever happening. Relationships used to mean something. I had that once. In fact, if my wife and I had been fortunate enough to have children, they would probably be this girl’s age.

I take the stairs to the upper level two at a time, ignoring her invitation. I oversee the passenger loading because that’s part of my job.

That’s a lie, but I refuse to admit the true reason why or whom I’m looking for. It’s to see if one particular person is on board. It’s Thursday and their usual routine is to catch the 9:00 a.m. ferry and return on the 7:00 p.m.

I deepen the frown that my nephews call my resting bitch face, whatever the fuck that means.

Since the day I saw her standing on deck looking out over the open sea with such a dark troubled look on her face, I’ve felt an indescribable connection to her. I don’t know who or what she’s lost, but I know that look.

Years ago, when my wife died, parts of me died right along with her. I know the heartache this beautiful woman is feeling well. Emotions I thought were burned out long ago suddenly resurfaced, all because of her.

I don’t like it.

So why the hell do I hope for a simple glimpse?

I cross my arms and widen my stance, and glare at the passengers as they come aboard. It never fails that some idiot doesn’t follow directions and ends up bottlenecking the loading.

I’ve earned my grumpy reputation by not giving a fuck about much of anything since I lost the love of my life, my Grace. My gruff exterior has been perfected over the years and nobody expects more from me than I’m willing to give. Except my family. My brothers and their families are what kept me alive during the most heinous time of my life. I accepted long ago that loving again would never happen. To love, you need a functioning heart and mine is cold and buried inside the pain of loss.

Until her.

The first time I saw her, the glint of sunlight on her long, dark hair caught my attention. Even before I saw her face, her body appeared to be surrounded by a golden glow coming from a beam of light aimed down from the sky.

She turned and looked upward letting her face drink in the sun. When she opened her eyes, they were drawn to mine as if she’d been waiting for me. For what felt like a lifetime, we simply saw each other. I say saw because it was so much more than a look. A look refers to a brief glance with no reaction and what we shared that day was more reverent. I saw her masked pain.

That day, the corners of her heart-shaped lips curled into a smile so sweet, so hopeful, that I felt urges I hadn’t felt in more than a decade. She was stunning.

Perfection.

Tempting.

I had no idea what to do.

Since that initial meeting, we’ve shared other silent conversations with me safely on the upper deck and her on the lower. I will not allow myself to go to her. I don’t want to meet her.

I know who she is. Her name is Jennifer Marsh and the town approved her application to open a coffee shop on Main Street. Uncommon Grounds has been open for six months and I have not stepped foot inside. I know she would be a danger to the life I’ve come to accept. The only life I know how to deal with.

I keep busy with overseeing loading and then I leave my mate, Jimmy, to start bringing the vehicles on while I fill out the necessary paperwork before we can get underway.

From the upper deck, with clipboard in hand, I fill out and sign off on the returning manifest. Before I get to the last item, the hairs on the back of my neck tingle and a jolt of nervous energy runs through me. I know before I even look up that she’s on board.

I fight the need to look up until my hand holding the pen to paper shakes, making squiggly lines in the place where I should have signed my name. Now it looks like a kindergartener’s signature.

Angry at my reaction to her, I turn to go back inside the navigation bridge when I unconsciously look up and right into her magnetic gaze. Just like each time before, I’m unable to look away. She smiles and lifts her delicate hand in a wave. I find my own lips pulling up at the edges and my hand returns her greeting. What a damn fool I am.

“Capt’n?”

My asinine smile instantly changes back into the frown I’m accustomed to and breaks the connection to her. I should be thanking my first mate, but instead I scowl at him for his timely interruption. “What?” I snap.

Jimmy follows the track of my gaze and must lock on to Jennifer because a smug grin appears on his face like he thinks he caught me ogling the passengers. I guess he kind of did, but I sharpen my gaze and raise a brow telling him I’m not paying him to stand around making assumptions.

He wipes the grin and stands a bit taller. “All aboard and ready for launch, Capt’n.”

“Then what are you standing around for? Get to it, mate,” I order.

“Aye, Capt’n,” he says and turns to leave, but not before I see that fucking grin playing around his mouth again.

Ten minutes later, we’ve hit full speed and the announcement is made allowing passengers to exit their vehicles and walk around. With the coordinates entered and auto-pilot engaged, I’m ready to turn the helm over to Jimmy when prickles on the back of my neck alert me and I hear, “Excuse me, Captain.”

I raise my head and my gaze lands on her. I’m stunned speechless. All I can do is allow my eyes to drink her in. She’s even more beautiful up close. My cock stirs to life and the unfamiliar feeling snaps me out of the trance she’s caused and a burst of anger overtakes me.

I can’t allow this to happen. I want her gone.

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