Page 117 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
“Jackson!” Kian seemed to not notice the tension sparking off us as he stepped forward and reached out his hand.
A boyish grin slipped over Jackson’s face as he pivoted.
“Kian.” He beamed, shaking his hand. “Thank yousomuch for snagging us spots today.”
“Of course, of course.” Kian turned his twinkling eyes to me. “And I’m glad the lovely Pippa was able to join us.”
“Pip—” I started to say in an amiable correction.
But Jackson spoke over me. “She’s finallyfeeling better.”
“Oh, awesome. I’m very happy to hear that.” When Kian let go of Jackson’s hand and reached for mine, I took it. Numbly. Not even feeling the handshake—not really. Not with the buzzing of my brain drowning out other sensations.
He’d called mePippa.
An honest mistake; people did it all the time. But Jackson hadn’t corrected him, nor had he let me correct him.
Almost as though he didn’twantthem to know my real name.
I turned to Jackson, when Kian left us for the mini bar, and reached for him. Physically, and emotionally as well. Trying to find something,anything,that would settle my souring stomach.
But when I touched his hand, a wave of animosity slammed into me.
I almost cried.
Jackson wouldn’t look at me.
“Here we are!” Kian returned a few seconds later, handing a tall pint of beer to Jackson. “And for you, Pippa.” He bowed slightly as he handed me a glass with clear, bubbly liquid. “A hard seltzer. My wifelovesthis flavor. It’s peach something—what is this one again, hun?” He turned to where a group of women sprawled on stools by the minibar.
“Mango. Peach Mango!” quipped a tall and elegant-looking blonde woman.
“That’s it.” Kian pressed the glass into my hand. “But go easy on these, eh? Lest your man kick my ass for getting his girl sick again.”
I screwed the happiest smile I could manage onto my face. “He’s very protective.”
“As he should be.”
With an almightyurrrrrrrgggg,the ship teetered beneath my feet.
I clutched on to Jackson, and he held me steady. But the antipathy he kept expelling turned my stomach into an acidic wasteland.
A cacophony of whoops and hollers rose from the people onboard the ship. Kian tucked his glass under his arm and whacked his hands together in thunderous applause.
“We’re off!” Rune announced, as he thrust his own glass into the air. “A toast! To a successful voyage…hopefully,”he added, with a booming laugh that sounded like Count von Count.
Muh-a-a-a-a.
“Cigar, Jackson?” Kian asked.
“Of course!” Jackson said.
“Excellent. Oh, and Pippa,” Kian added, “feel free to hang out with these lovely ladies. Hun!” He drew his wife’s attention again. “You’ve got room for one more, right?”
She beamed and nodded. “Always. Pippa, is it?”
“Pippi,” I muttered automatically.
“Oh,shit. It’s Pippi? I’m sorry, I was calling you Pippa, wasn’t I?” Kian turned toward me with a genuine look of remorse.
