Page 53 of Hot for the Jerk

The snort from my nose came out before I could stop it.“You’re kidding, right?”

He removed his thumb, his brows came together and that that sparkle in his eyes went out.“No, Raina, I’m not.I believe in this stuff.It’s real medicine.It’s real healing.Western Medicine isn’t everything.The two combined are the best form of care.And Suvi helps keep my knee from getting me to a point where I can’t walk.And after my brothers lost their wives in the accident, when I didn’t feel like I had a right to grieve because they weren’tmywives, I developed a lot of pent-up trauma in my neck and shoulders.She helped me deal with that.She stabbed me with her needles and released all that tension.I cried like a fucking baby in her treatment room that day.”He glanced at me, lifting one brow as if challenging me to make fun of him, to scoff or snort again.

The waves tossed the boat side to side, eliciting new gasps from the passengers.Swallowing and tasting more bile, I held out my wrist.“It, um, it was actually helping.Do you … do you think you could do it again?”

With his lips flattened tightly, he hesitated for a moment, then rolled his eyes and grabbed my wrist.“You don’t trust easily, do you?”

“No,” I said sheepishly.

“Not just people, but anythingoutside the norm.”It wasn’t a question.

“It’s mostly because of how I was raised.It’s tough to just stop believing some of that shit.Even when deep down, I know it’s wrong—like the Earth being flat and all that.But it was hammered into my skull for so long there are still fragments—shards of it—embedded deep.I’m still trying to pull them out.But then I keep finding more.”Cautiously, I met his gaze.“I’m sorry.”

He grunted.

“I’m also sorry for the loss of your sisters-in-law.That couldn’t have been easy on any of you.You were—youare—a family.You deserved to grieve too.”

“I know,” he said, a slight edge to his voice.“And I did.Alone.Quietly.”

“How are you feeling with all this choppy water?”I asked, hating how I spun us into this tension-riddled state with my judgy, skeptical attitude.I wanted to get back to … somewhere.I wasn’t sure where, just not here.

“I’m fine,” he said, though he didn’t look fine.His color was greener than it was a moment ago.I reached for his free hand—and he let me—measured on his wrist the way he did with mine, found the thick, tight tendons, and pressed my thumb down between them.“There.”

“Thanks,” he murmured.

We sat quietly, holding and pressing down on each other’s wrists for the duration of the rough ride.We weren’t the only passengers green around the gills when we finally docked on San Camanez.One man managed to keep from vomiting until we docked, then he dashed out and let loose over the stern.

“Sorry about that, folks,” Gus said, standing up while Caleb tied us to the dock.“Glad we all got here in one piece.”

Much like an airplane, there were some eager beaver passengers who stood up before their row cleared, and pushed their way to the front.Neither Jagger nor I moved until the aisles were all empty.We were home now.We could wait until the boat was clear.

Also, I didn’t hate the physical contact.

Once everyone unloaded and it was just us left, he released my wrist, and I released his.Then we met Gus at the back of the boat.He handed us our bags.“Always nice to see you, Gus,” Jagger said, shaking the man’s hand again.“Send Edie and the kids my love.And Merry Christmas.”

Gus grinned behind his bushy beard.“I will.You have a Merry Christmas too.”

Jagger let me lead the way and climb onto the dock with wobbly sea legs.Or at least I didn’t know they were wobbly until I nearly fell sideways when I stepped off the ramp between the boat and the dock.

He dropped his bag and caught me.“Whoa there, Elsa.You okay?”

I blinked as a heat of embarrassment climbed up my neck.“Yeah, just … Ariel’s finding her legs again.”

He snorted, his hand still on my elbow.“Did you just compare yourself to the Little Mermaid?”

My glare held no fire when I shot it at him.“Yes.We’re both redheads.And we can both sing.”

“And you both talk to seagulls and have tenuous relationships with your father?”

He didn’t know the half of it when it came to my relationship with my father.

“As a matter of fact, Icananddotalk to seagulls.It’s one of mymanytalents.I also have a cave of whosits and whatsits galore.”

He grabbed my bag before I could stop him and picked up his again as well.“Well, whatever, but I’ve heard you sing, and you are no Ariel—or Elsa.”

My mouth dropped open.“Ouch.I’ve heard you sing too, and you’re no—”

He smirked, waiting for me to finish that insult.“Prince Hans?Kristoff?Olaf?”

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