Page 13 of The Second Chance in the Mediterranean
I needed to do something. Too wound up to take a nap, I contemplated exercising to blow off steam as I walked through the guest cabins and into my crew quarters. Would that help my agitation?
Closing the door to my room, I crossed over and set my notebook down. A hot shower sounded good, but then immediately my mind went to Seb again. Damn it.
As if I’d conjured him, my door flew open and Seb walked in.
My jaw dropped. “Excuse me, what the hell are you doing here?”
“What is your problem, Marce?”
“Marcella,” I gritted out.
“Okay,Marcella,what is your problem?”
“You, Seb, you are the problem! You are always in my galley, and you’re nothing but a...a...distraction!” I hurled the word at him like an insult and I could see it hit him like a physical punch. His jaw tightened, but there was also a bewildered look in his eyes.
Seb stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I leaned back against the wall, pressing my fingertips to my forehead. What was I thinking? Of all the insults to fling, I had to choose the one that Captain Carl had thrown out when he’d fired me, the one that was most true, revealing anger and vulnerability.
These thoughts hit me along with regret, but before I could process anything, the door banged open again and Seb was on me. He pinned me against the wall, fingers thrusting into my hair and the heat of his body oppressive. My fingers gripped his shirt, grounding me.
He growled. “You are goddamn right I’m a distraction. I’m the best distraction you’ll ever have.” There was a tiny pause, a moment where I could have pushed him away, forced my fingers to uncurl from his uniform. Instead they tightened. And then he kissed me, his lips scorching and hurt and a little triumphant. I gasped and Seb swept into me, thick and hot and full of passion.
Before I could put myself back together to react, he was gone, the door slamming behind him again. I touched a finger to my lips; they tingled, a little raw from the harshness of his beard rubbing against my skin. My heart was racing, the previous overtures of an ache settled in between my legs as a deep need.
Satiating that need would be a slippery slope, and I needed a different distraction, so I would do something other than touch myself and think about Seb. Exercise was normally the last thing I wanted to do after days on my feet with cramped fingers and a tired back, butThemishad a gym, and that sounded like a much better option.
Seven
We hada few days before our guests arrived, and as a treat, Dom was running us at half staff for the next two nights. The staff who was off for the evening had free rein to go out and explore Tivat, while the rest of the crew stayed behind and worked as usual. I let Roy have the first night off, and I’d take the second night. Roy and Seb had elected to take the night off together, and I was looking forward to a boat without Seb. I wouldn’t have to worry about watching him eat, running into him on the deck, or seeing him laugh and banter with the rest of the crew. After our kiss in my cabin that afternoon, he’d been all I could think about. I needed a break.
Cat was also staying on board that night, and we dedicated the early evening to going over the dinnerware and planning out the more formal dinners for the charter guests.
When we descended back down to the crew lounge, it was bustling with activity. Those going ashore were gathering, everyone dressed up for an evening out on the town.
I pulled out the prep work I’d done for the crew dinner and shooed a few people out of the galley. I set pots of water to boil, and within minutes I’d dropped the mussels in and the fresh briny aroma wafted around the galley.
“Hey, Marcella.” Roy leaned against the counter.
Seb stepped up behind Roy. “Smells good.” These were the first words Seb and I had exchanged since our kiss.
“Thank you.” I refused to look at him. “It’s a traditional Campanian dish, pasta with beans, garlic, white wine.”
“Pasta e fagioli con cozze?” Roy asked.
I smiled at him. “Yes.”
“Damn, I can’t believe I’m missing this tonight,” Roy said.
I kept a close eye on the pot, waiting for the mussels to open, while I pureed beans and diced parsley. Seb and Roy talked about their plans for some club and I tried not to listen, but they were in my galley and, while they tried to keep their voices down at first, their heckling and teasing each other made it impossible not to hear them.
“It’s a shame we’re not getting to Ibiza this year. You would love it, Seb. Lots of dancing and small bikinis. I could show you a thing or two on the dance floor there.”
Seb scoffed. “You dance fine, for a white guy. Someday we’ll go out in Miami.”
“And you dance okay for a straight bloke.”
There was a moment of silence and I focused harder on ignoring them...or at least looking like it. I peeked into the pot again and the mussels were starting to open, so I grabbed the tongs and a platter to pull them out.
The mussels I’d bought this morning were perfectly plump and juicy.
