Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Every step I took towards the boat made my heart beat faster and my stomach clench tighter. Sometimes life fucking sucked–like today, for instance. Just one day after insulting my uncle— step -uncle—and here I was, crawling to him and begging for a fucking job. Ugh! Did I not deserve to salvage an ounce of my pride?

His arrogant fucking ass stood on deck like he owned the whole boat—which he did, I guessed—watching me get closer. Was he smirking? Probably. Not that I could blame him. If our positions were reversed, I'd be eating this shit up.

"About that fishing trip," I started, trying to come up with something clever.

"You can bet your ass I'm regretting the offer now." Sam crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at me as I climbed aboard. "I don't know what my sister was thinking. This is a terrible idea."

Tell me how you really feel, dick . "Well, at least I'm not the only one who's going to suffer."

"Yeah, but I didn't do anything wrong. I don't deserve to suffer. I'm not the one with the attitude problem," he all but growled.

"That's debatable," I snickered, enjoying the sound of his misery.

He tossed me a navy blue shirt, and I caught it out of reflex before it dropped into the water.

"Go change your shirt—and your attitude." He pointed toward a set of stairs that I assumed led below deck, and I made my way toward them, but he snagged my shirt from behind, halting me. "I don't care what your problem is, but in front of our guests, you cut that shit out and act like a respectable guy. They pay thousands of dollars and we are here to serve them. If you learn nothing else this summer, you'll at least learn to act your fucking age, understood?"

There were several choice words I wanted to hurl at him, but instead, I held my breath and saluted him. With my fucking middle finger. The guests weren't on board yet so technically, I didn't have to act my age.

Stomping my way down the narrow steps, I found what must be the crew quarters, and tossed my duffel bag on the only available bed. At least it was the top bunk, which I preferred.

"Hi, Matteo. I'm Nicky."

I turned to find the little pipsqueak I'd met once or twice at the grocery store. He seemed to follow Cass and Sam around like a lost puppy.

"Great, they roped you into working this summer, too?"

He giggled. Fucking giggled. Christ.

"Not at all. I love spending the summer on board with them. This is my second summer sailing on the Harlowe Two. Did they happen to tell you where we were going?"

"You work here and you don't know?"

"My Daddy," he froze, his face turning the brightest shade of red. "I mean, Cass and Sam thought it funny to tease me and keep me in suspense."

Daddy? "Is he your dad?"

"Cass? No, not like that. I mean, he once dated my father for a long time, but that was in the past. He's… He's my…"

"Whatever," I huffed, already annoyed with his overactive mouth. He reminded me of a Maltese puppy; chipper and panting over himself to make friends. An over-sharer.

"Did you find your bunk?"

"I guess," I shrugged, looking at the other three beds that were clearly occupied. "Let me guess, that one's yours," I predicted, pointing to the other top bunk across the narrow aisle from mine.

"How'd you guess?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Fucking seriously? "The stuffed seahorse? "

"Yep, that's Hippo." Jesus Christ. This summer felt like it was getting longer and longer. "Anyway, let me know if you need anything. I'll be up on deck, helping our guests settle in."

"Great, thanks," I mumbled, not sounding grateful whatsoever. "Hey," I called after him. He turned. "I'm supposed to put this shirt on. It doesn't fit as tight as yours, does it? I mean, what the fuck? Are they trying to turn this boat into the ocean version of Hooters ?"

He giggled again. Don't roll your eyes. Don't roll your eyes.

"I'm sure yours fits larger. I just happen to like mine like this." He skipped off, and I sank heavily onto the bottom bunk, blowing out a tired breath. There was every chance I wouldn't make it back from this trip. One more giggle from the Maltese, one more snide remark from the fucker who captained this boat, and I was going to jump overboard.

As it turned out, we were headed to Barbados. Nicky seemed excited, but then again, he seemed excited about everything. We were squeezed into the tiny galley kitchen, preparing mixed drinks and a platter of fruit and cheese for our guests. My head was beginning to pound as Nicky talked in circles about pink sand beaches, red coral, and some place called The Grotto. To be honest, I'd tuned him out a long time ago. His endless chatter set my teeth on edge.

"Wait until you check out the reefs. We're snorkeling them. I can identify a lot more of the fish this time than I did last summer. I'll point them out to you!"

Can't fucking wait.

"…and the beaches, you've never seen sand so pink! But it's not really sand, it's tiny little crustaceous shells. Last year they grossed me out, but now they fascinate me, and I can't wait to collect a sample! I want to check them out under a microscope."

He continued on and on about his college courses, the terrible food in the dining hall on campus, and his favorite coffee shop, The Roasted Bean. Then I had to listen to a litany of facts about seahorses. Fucking seahorses ! It wasn't even noon, and I was already exhausted, both mentally and physically.

"So, do you think we'll see any?" His voice drowned out my inner thoughts and I realized he was asking me a question.

"See any what?"

"Seahorses!"

As I stared at him, with his overly bright grin and too-tight shirt that gave glimpses of his rail-thin body every time he stretched, I wondered was he really that ridiculously na?ve and nerdy, or was it all just an act?

"I have no fucking clue. But if I see one, I'll point it out to you."

"Awesome!" He practically glowed with excitement. Over a seahorse? Jeez. "You're not so bad, despite what Sam says about you."

What the fuck? The kicker was, Nicky had no idea how backhanded that sounded. He acted like he'd paid me a genuine compliment.

I would give…well, a lot…to get the upper hand with Samson Barlowe. Just once.

The stars were out in full force. The boat dipped over the waves, creating a rocking feeling that was tying my stomach in knots. Cass had promised I would get used to it, but so far, my pasta dinner was threatening to make a reappearance. I focused on the night sky, hoping by using the moon as a focal point, I wouldn't feel so nauseous.

Why was I the only one still working? Nicky was hanging out with Cass as he steered the boat, and Sam had his feet kicked up on a lounge chair, pretending to stare up at the sky as he surreptitiously watched me bust my ass.

"Don't throw that rope like that," he barked.

Fuck off . I dropped the coiled rope into the storage box and grabbed for the life preserver, but dropped it when the boat dipped. Fuck this shit! I kicked the damn flotation device, wishing it was Sam's ass instead.

"I said don't throw that, Mattie. And you can cut the fucking attitude."

Motherfucking micromanager. "Don't call me Mattie. It's Matt or Matteo."

"I'll call you whatever the fuck I want. It's my boat," he challenged.

"Mattie is a toddler's nickname. I'm not fucking four years old!"

"Then quit acting like it."

"I hate you," I seethed, nostrils flaring.

He chuckled like he found me amusing, which ignited my temper to volcanic levels. "Whatever gets you through the day, Mattie-boy."

Cass and Nicky's laughter floated down from the flybridge, carried on the wind, and further poking the angry beast inside me. I slammed the lid closed, glaring at the pair.

"I guess it pays to be a good boy."

Sam followed my gaze. "Maybe you should try it sometime?" I snorted. No thanks. "Would it kill you?"

"Yeah, it just might."

Sam rose from the lounger and approached me. "You know what? I don't think you could pull it off," he challenged.

"I wouldn't want to." Sam seemed fond of Nicky. Overly fond, as did Cass. How had the little twerp wrapped them both around his skinny finger so easily? "You got a thing for him?"

Sam smirked. "What do you care?"

I didn't! "Because you make it so fucking obvious."

He looked up to where they stood, his expression becoming softer. Anger stirred in my gut like poison, making me feel sicker.

"Nicky is…special to me. We spent the summer together, and it's hard not to be charmed by a guy as sweet as him."

Sweet? More like sissy. "Isn't he a little young for you?"

"Is that what you think? He's about your age."

What kind of answer was that?! "I'm a little young for you, too."

"I didn't ask you how you felt about me. Those are your words."

Fuck him and that gleam in his eyes! "Just back up." We had the whole deck wide open, and he insisted on standing right in my face. I couldn't breathe.

"Is it hard to think straight when I stand too close?" This time it was his eyes that smirked, not his lips.

"What's so special about him, anyway?" Nicky was cute, I guessed, but certainly not hot. Not the kind of drool-worthy hotness that could land two guys like Sam and Cass. He was smart, but annoyingly so, and he never fucking stopped talking. He slept with stuffed animals and giggled, for chrissakes!

Sam leaned in even closer. The moon reflected in his dark eyes, making them shine, and I could practically feel my heart in my throat.

"Maybe if you got to know him, you could answer that for yourself." His gaze raked down my body, making me feel completely self-conscious. "Stop judging people before you give them a chance."

"Maybe you should follow your own advice, hypocrite."

"Is that what you want, Mattie? You want me to give you a chance?"

The way he said it made my skin buzz, like it felt too tight. "It wouldn't kill you."

Sam chuckled. "It just might."