One Good Reason (A Boston Love Story Book 3) (22 page)

“But—”

“In fact, even after it’s handled you’re not coming back here," he mutters. “If you never spend another night in this place again it'll be too soon, the way I see it.”

“No one asked how you see it!” I exclaim, walking toward him and trying to pull the bag from his grip. He just lifts his arm so I can't reach and, damn it, I'm too proud to jump like a kid playing keep-away.

“Parker—”

“Hush.”

“Don't tell me to hush, playboy!” I hiss. "Just where exactly do you expect me to stay? This is my home. We don't all own property on three different private islands."

“You're staying with me,” he says succinctly.

I scoff. “I am not staying with you.”

He drops the bag to the bed and turns chilly hazel eyes to mine. “Remember last night, when I fucked you until you couldn't move and you fell asleep in my arms? That moment — you became mine. I protect what's mine, darling. I protect it with every breath. Bottom line, I care about you... And I don't really give a shit whether you want me to or not.”

I suck in a breath. “I'll stay with Luca.”

His eyes narrow. “Like hell you will. That man has no concept of boundaries when it comes to you.”

“He's my friend!”

“And I'm your—”

“My what?" I cut him off. “What exactly are you to me, Parker West? Boyfriend? Bossy asshole? Annoying man-child who refuses to listen to reason?”

“You need a word or a definition for what I am to you, that's your problem. I'm not your
fill-in-the-blank
bullshit label. I'm just
yours
. And you're mine." He leans down and presses a hard, angry kiss against my lips. "That means you don't get to run off to some other guy's arms or bed."

"You're being outrageous!"

"This is me being reasonable, darling. You'd better fucking get used to it, because I'm not going anywhere." With that, he slings the packed duffle over one shoulder, grabs my hand, and hits a button on his phone to make a call, all while tugging me across the loft in long-legged strides. We’re not even at the elevator when his voice cracks over the line.

"Nate? It's me. Change of plans…”

T
hirty minutes later
, I’m standing in the cabin of
Folly
, trying to keep myself from bursting into tears. My outrage at Parker’s bossy behavior has been replaced by a much more alarming emotion. I swallow once, twice, three times trying to dislodge the lump in my throat as I stare at the set of light blue foul weather gear in a woman’s petite size small sitting on the table. Beside the suit, there’s a set of tiny rubber boots that look about my size.

God dammit. Do not fucking cry, Zoe Bloom. Get your shit together.

“What?” Parker asks, catching sight of my expression as he climbs down into the cabin after me. “Do you not like the color? I can get that same gear in pink or red or white if you like that better. Just don’t pick anything dark — the whole point is to wear something bright so I can see you if you fall overboard.”

I pull a deep breath in through my nose and manage to get a hold of myself.

“I like the color,” I murmur, staring at Parker.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

His expression is wary. “The look on your face says otherwise.”

Steadying my shoulders, I walk to him and slide my arms around his waist. “I promise, nothing’s wrong. In fact… it’s alarmingly close to perfect.”

“Oh, dear god, no! The
horror
!” He grins. “We can’t have that! Don’t worry – twenty minutes ago you wanted to kill me. I’m sure I’ll do something to fuck things up or piss you off again soon.”

I stretch up onto my tiptoes and kiss him softly. “Undoubtedly,” I whisper against his lips, enjoying the sensation of his smiling lips curved against mine.

“Come on.” He squeezes me tight one last time, then pushes me away. “Put them on. We have to cast off soon or the sun will set, and it’s no fun sailing in the dark. Plus, we’ll miss our reservation.”

“Reservation?”

He nods.

“When in the world did you have time to make reservations?”

His eyes narrow. “You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were surprised by my ability to provide for my woman.”

“Your
woman
?” I roll my eyes. “What is this, an episode of
Outlander
? Because the only person allowed to refer to me as his
woman
is Jamie Fraser and you, my friend, are not wearing a kilt.”

“I understood literally none of what you just said.”

I grin, turn away, and grab my gear off the table. “Oh, never mind.”

“See?” he calls, just before I close the bathroom door. “We’re already fighting again! What’d I tell you?”

I laugh as I strip down to my skin and pull on the sailor suit.

It fits perfectly.

“
T
ake the wheel
.”

“What?”

“I have to put the sails up.” Parker’s voice is patient. “Take the wheel.”

“Last time you put it in that auto-pilot mode. Why can’t you do that again?”

“That was last time. You were new. Now, you’re a seasoned sailor. Take the wheel.”

“I don’t know how to steer this thing!”

“Zoe. Just hold it steady in one direction. It’s basically like driving a car, just… in an ocean. With no lanes or speed limits.”

“That’s really comforting, considering I never got a fucking driver’s license.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Huh. Well… luckily, you’re a quick learner. Just head for that green buoy in the distance.”

Before I can object again, he lets go of the wheel and scurries up onto the top deck.

“Parker!” I yell, watching the wheel start to spin off course.

He doesn’t respond — he’s busy putting up the sails.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself. With no other choice, I grab the wheel and attempt to straighten our course.

Head straight into the wind
, Parker advised me before throwing me to the fucking wolves.
Once the sails are up, I’ll come turn off the engines.

I grit my teeth and try not to panic. A few nail-biting minutes pass before he returns.

“See?” His smile is a mile wide and his hair is adorably mussed from the wind. “You did great. I knew you would.”

“I didn’t sink us at the bottom of the Atlantic. That’s not exactly the same as doing
great
.”

He just shakes his head as he walks around behind me and grabs the wheel, so his chest is pressed up against my back and his arms cage me in.

“Where are we going?” I whisper as he makes an adjustment to our course, reading the compass mounted on the wheel.

His mouth scrapes my earlobe, the faint stubble of his beard ticklish against the sensitive skin there.

“Second star to the right and straight on till morning.”

I smile and lean back against him, allowing the heat of his body and the gentle sway of the boat as she cuts through the waves to calm me. Thoughts of wrecked apartments and corrupt billionaires and evil henchmen and job offers fade away until it’s just me and Parker, sailing away from the world. Leaving it all behind.

It’s the best thing I’ve experienced in a long, long time.

We chase the sunset for just over an hour, then turn east and head straight out to sea. It’s funny — a week ago, in this same situation with Parker West, I would’ve been freaking out. Asking a million questions about our destination, demanding to know his motives, wondering why on earth he would possibly want to spend time with a girl like me.

Now, all I feel is an unflappable sense of calm.

Because I trust him
, I realize in a flash.
He won’t hurt me.

I’m totally safe with him.

I’m… home.

And, for me, a girl who never had a home…

That means everything.

The sun has almost set by the time the lighthouse comes into view. The sole structure on a tiny outcropping of rock in the middle of the sound, the pillar of granite looks ancient and weather-beaten, its stones caked with salt and brine from the ever-constant waves that crash with the tides. Every few seconds, a bright beacon flashes in the night from the top of the tower, the beam moving rhythmically across the darkening water to warn incoming ships of the small island and guide them into the harbor.

There are no other buildings on the island. Just a narrow dock, which Parker maneuvers the sailboat toward with expertise, cutting the motors at exactly the right moment so we glide to a smooth stop along the pier.

“This can’t be where we’re going,” I murmur, eyeing the towering stone lighthouse with wide eyes. It’s a lonely gray sentinel, guarding the city from afar.

Parker grins. “Help me with the lines, will you, lazy bones? I told you — we’ve got a reservation.”

“At a lighthouse,” I say flatly.

“Yep. Unless you plan on swimming back.” He tosses me the stern line and scrambles toward the bow. “Tie us off, darling. Don’t want the Swan drifting out to sea in the middle of the night.”

“But…” I stare at the rope in my hands. “You can’t mean… We can’t be staying here! Parker?”

He doesn’t answer; he’s busy securing the front of the boat to a cleat along the pier.

Cursing under my breath, I hop over the rail onto the narrow wooden dock and try my best to replicate the knot Parker demonstrated last week. I’ve barely coiled the ropes when he appears by my side.

“Perfect,” he announces, reaching down to snug the knot. “You’re a natural.”

I meet his eyes, feeling wary. “Are we really staying here?”

His gaze is warm; his cheeks are red with cold.

“Safest place I could think of, on short notice.”

“But how?” I shake my head. “How did you possibly make this happen?”

He grabs my hand and tugs me to my feet. “They were going to knock this place down, about a year ago. Let it crumble into the ocean. Lighthouses are mostly automated nowadays — they don’t need light keepers, anymore.” He shrugs. “I didn’t want to see it fall into disrepair, dependent on some shitty state park budget to keep it up and running. So I bought it.”

My mouth gapes. “You bought a lighthouse.”

He glances over at me. “Did I mention my family has a lot of money?”

I blink. “I knew it was a lot. I just didn’t realize it was
buy-a-lighthouse-with-your-trust-fund
kind of money.”

“If it makes you feel better, this purchase put a rather large dent in my trust fund.” His hand tightens on mine. “Will you still come sailing with me if I’m poor?”

“You’ll never be poor,” I inform him dryly. “WestTech is valued at over two billion dollars.”

His eyes hold mine. “That wasn’t my question.”

“Yes.” I sigh deeply. “I’ll still go sailing with you if you’re poor. I don’t even know why you have to ask that question. Have I ever given you the impression that money is important to me?”

“Money is important to most people. I’d say every relationship in my life, with the exception of Nate, Phoebe, Chase, and Gemma, is driven almost exclusively by financial motives. People who want my lifestyle, who crave a stake in my company, who want to work their way up the social ladder using the West name.”

Hearing him say that in such a matter-of-fact tone makes my heart clench.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I have no interest in your money? In fact…” I whisper, moving closer. “I’m really just using you for sexual favors.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” He grins. “Now let’s go. It’s fucking freezing out here. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in the middle of the ocean on Christmas Eve.”

“This was
your
crazy idea,” I remind him.

“True.” His eyes dance with humor. “I have no idea why you went along with it.”

“I must be crazy, too.”

“Must be.”

Before we freeze to death, Parker slings our duffle bags over his shoulder and hurries me inside the lighthouse. It’s the strangest thing — it should seem totally uninviting, this rock castle in the middle of the Atlantic… and yet, I’ve never felt more protected or secure than I do when the heavy door closes behind us, the thick metal screeching like a submarine hatch as Parker spins the bolt closed.

The lighthouse is narrow — maybe twenty feet wide — but it’s well over a hundred feet tall. Parker never drops my hand as he leads me up a spiral staircase from the entryway into a tiny living room.

“This place has everything — kitchen, bathroom, bedroom. It’s just…” He trails off.

“Vertical?” I supply, laughing.

“Pretty much. The rooms are stacked like a layer cake, the stairs hug the walls and wind all the way up. I put the bedroom at the top. You won’t believe the view in the morning.”

“I’ll bet,” I murmur, looking around.

It really is incredible. I feel like a princess, making her way up to the tallest turret in some kind of fairy tale. Through the thick-paned windows, I can see the last bit of sunset slipping over the horizon. My face must show my awe, because Parker sounds almost worried when he speaks next.

“I know this probably isn’t what you were expecting.”

“You’re right. It’s not what I was expecting.” I pause. “It’s better.”

“Really?”

“Are you kidding me?” I marvel, turning to take it all in. “This is the most amazing place anyone has ever brought me. Ever.” I grin. “You never do anything by the rules, do you, playboy?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” I step closer to him, craning my neck back to keep our gazes locked. “That’s what I like most about you.”

His eyes soften. “Come on. I want to show you the top.”

Like little kids running through a jungle gym, we race up the stairs as fast as our legs can carry us, passing a kitchen, a small office, a bathroom, and eventually barreling to a stop when we hit the bedroom. Parker tosses our bags on the bed and pulls me toward a ladder that leads up through a portal in the roof.

“Let me go first.” He grabs a rung and starts to hoist himself up. “The hatch is heavy.”

Once he’s got the narrow skylight door open, I watch his legs disappear out onto the top landing. Heights have never exactly been my favorite thing in the world, but I tell myself to stop being such a chicken as I grip the ladder rungs with shaky hands.