The Mariner's Gift (3 page)

“Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you ever ask me out in high school?”

He looked away and muttered something in Polish that she couldn’t understand. His profile was strong. Distinct. “Did you want me to?” he asked, looking back.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Neither did you.”

“You first.”

He watched her for a second longer, his pupils almost swallowing the gray of his irises whole. She’d never seen his eyes this dark before. Of course, what she’d seen of his eyes had mostly been twenty years ago under the fluorescent lights of the school library. “I don’t know why I didn’t ask you out. I should have.”

“Yes, you should have. I was a catch.” She was being facetious, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he stared at her as if she’d just said something profound. She took another sip of wine, embarrassed.

“Your turn,” he said.

“What?”

“Did you want me to ask you out?”

Zola felt like squirming. The boat rocked a little and she had to put her hand on the rail to steady herself.
Where were those damn fireworks anyway?

“Oh, Oliver. That was so long ago. You know…”

“No, I don’t. You brought it up. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“You’re very bossy.”

“I want to know.”

“Apparently.”

Above them, the first firework shot into the air with a deceptively soft
swoosh
, only to explode a second later, lighting up the sky in red. Zola looked up as the sparks rained down like tiny pink stars.

Sighing, she looked back at Oliver, whose face was illuminated for a moment then grew dark with shadow. “Yes. I wanted you to ask me out,” she said. “But you had to have known that. Everyone wanted to date you. Even a few of the boys.”

He chuckled softly.

“So why didn’t you?” She didn’t feel like letting him off the hook just yet. He’d forced an answer from her, and turnabout was fair play.

In the park up the hill from the marina, a large crowd of people
oooh’d
and
aaah’d
over the display overhead.

Oliver tilted his head back, his jaw working. The smell of smoke from the fireworks mingled with the salty air.

“I don’t know why I never asked you out,” he said. “I don’t really have a good answer for that. I always felt like a brother to you, for one thing. Maybe that was part of it. I never thought of you that way.”

“Hmm.” She took a sip of wine, trying not to let that sting too much.

He looked over, but she raised her gaze skyward. “I was stupid, Zo. What can I say?”

“Pfft.” She’d had too much alcohol. Time to cut herself off before she admitted to something embarrassing. If he kept up with this grilling business, there was no telling what she’d end up saying.

“I’m twenty years late, but I asked you out tonight,” he said. “Better late than never, right?”

“Well, this isn’t really a date. We’re just catching up.”

She was being childish. Stupid. This
was
just catching up. She hadn’t gone into this thinking they were going to get married, so why the hurt feelings routine? But deep down, she still felt like insecure, nerdy Zola with the braids and ridiculous glasses. Modern Zola, the one with the chic hair and cute scarves, suddenly wanted to put Oliver Tworek in his place. But it was hard when he was spouting things like
I never thought of you that way
.

Another burst of fireworks overhead, this one white and glittery. The explosion reflected off the water like false moonlight, and then it was gone.

All of a sudden, Zola just felt tired. The wine was making her sleepy and the adrenaline from earlier was wearing off. She put her glass down and smiled at the man beside her. “I’d better call it a night. Lots of work to do tomorrow before I head home.”

Oliver stood up straight. “Wait. You’re not upset, are you?”

“Of course not. It was good to see you again, Oliver.” She patted his hand like a schoolmarm, and then grimaced inwardly. Oh, well. She might be a schoolmarm at heart, but at least it was guarding against a lot of embarrassment in the morning. It was better this way.

Before she could take her hand away, he grabbed it. His fingers were warm and calloused. These were the hands of a man who worked on a boat for a living. Strong, rough, capable. And the feel of them sent delicious shivers all the way up her spine.

“I might not be the smartest guy on the planet, but I can tell when someone isn’t happy with me.”

“I’m not—”

“When I said I didn’t think of you that way when we were kids, I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t now.”

“I—”

“I’m attracted to you, Zo. And I think you’re attracted to me.”

She was so taken off guard, that all she could do was stare at him.

He smiled, dimples cutting into his cheeks. “I hope that’s not too direct.”

“Um…no.”

“So you’re just going to step off this boat with a pat on the hand? That’s all I get?”

He was leaning closer. She looked up, fixated on his mouth.

Was he asking for sex? She hoped not. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist, and that would land her firmly in slut territory.

He was so close now she could feel his breath tickle her eyelids. He smelled pleasantly of the wine they’d been sipping, and beneath that, a very faint aftershave. Her knees went weak.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was soft, almost too low to understand. The last of the fireworks had long since faded away, and the only sound was the rhythmic
slap, slap, slap
of water against the boat.

Finding she was unable to form a coherent word, she nodded, watching his mouth move closer. His lips were the perfect amount of wet, looking pliant and inviting under the lights from the dock. And when they settled on hers, she found they even tasted good too. Like some sort of exotic fruit she’d never been privy to until now.

Zola closed her eyes as he put his hand on the small of her back, pulling her close. Her heart was slamming against her chest, her breathing shallow. His kiss was gentle but insistent. He probed her lips with his tongue until she parted them and let him in. Her stomach dipped with the boat, but he held her steady against his chest, kissing her until she forgot to be nervous anymore. After a long minute, he broke away and nuzzled behind her ear, then moved his mouth down her throat. She tilted her head to the side, vaguely aware that she should stop him. If this went much further, she’d be doing the walk of shame past every fisherman and his dog when the sun came up in the morning.

“Oliver.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It was breathy and sex kitten-like. “Oliver.”

“Hmm?”

She put a hand on his shoulder, using every ounce of willpower she possessed.
He won’t respect you in the morning, missy.

“I think we should probably stop.” Who
did
this? Who stopped a gorgeous man who had eyes the exact color of the ocean on a cloudy day from getting to second base?

Oliver straightened, looking more than a little flushed. After a second, he smiled and pulled her jacket back up around her neck. It felt wrong, and for an instant Zola wanted to yank it off again, this time all the way. Along with her bra and panties.

“You’re right,” Oliver said. “I don’t want to push. I’ve just been wanting to do that since yesterday.”

Zola smiled back and looked down at her hands. “Since yesterday?” she mumbled. “Try since senior year.” It had just slipped out. And now that it had, her cheeks burned mercilessly.

“Hey.” Oliver touched his fingers to her chin. “Look at me.”

When she did, she knew exactly the reason why she’d stopped him from getting to second base. She was falling for this guy all over again. And truthfully, it had only taken about five minutes with him on the boat yesterday to be reeled back in, hook, line, and sinker. Now that she was, she was terrified of getting her heart broken.

“I should have done that a long time ago,” he said.

“Better late than never,” she teased, echoing his words from just a few minutes before.

He nodded, eyeing her lips again. Silence settled between them, thick and lusty, and for a second, she thought he might kiss her again. More than that, she was
hoping
he’d kiss her again, disregarding all the sensible reasons not to. Then, disappointing her more than she’d care to admit, he stepped away.

“You’re a smart lady, Zo.” He dug around for his keys, the expression on his face perfectly unreadable. “Let’s get you back.”

Chapter 4

“You’re late, mister.” Zola tapped her watch as a flustered looking, and freshly showered, Oliver sat down next to her. He smelled like shampoo.

“Sorry. Practice ran over again.” Sometimes it was hard to understand what he was saying when he was in a hurry and wasn’t enunciating. Luckily for him, Zola spoke fluent ‘cute high school boy with Polish accent’.

The truth was, she probably would have sat with her buns planted in that hard plastic chair until graduation, or until the janitor had to kick her out for summer vacation. Seeing Oliver had become her favorite part of the week. Not to mention the favorite part of her existence. But he didn’t have to know that. Natalie was always so blasé with the boys. Why couldn’t she be more like that?

Going for blasé, but sounding more lame than anything, Zola said, “Oh, that’s okay. I don’t have anything else going on.”

He looked over and smiled. God, he was perfect. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so perfect. Rattled, she tugged on a lock of her hair, wishing that it was the fiery red mane that Shannon Mahoney sported. She also wished she had the boobs Shannon Mahoney sported. The kind that were huge and perky and bounced while running on the beach, like Pamela Anderson’s in the opening sequence of
Baywatch
.

Zola shifted and opened her English book to where they’d left off.

“You have an essay coming up in Mr. Conley’s class. Do you know what you’re doing it on?” she asked.

He rubbed the back of his head. “Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking
The Catcher in the Rye
.”

“Nice choice.”

“Will you be able to help me?”

“Of course.” She stopped short of saying what she was thinking, which was,
Of course, and while we’re at it, let’s get married and have lots and lots of babies.

Watching her, he grinned and leaned back in his chair. “Are you going to the winter formal?” he asked.

Her heart, which had been thumping happily at twice its normal rhythm since he’d walked in, skipped a beat.

“Um…I’m not sure. I wasn’t planning on it.” He wasn’t asking, was he? “Are you?”

He must have recognized the look on her face and she immediately hated herself for it. Blasé, blasé, blasé…

“Oh…yeah.”

“That’s nice!” Why was blasé so hard to achieve? She actually sounded excited. Wrong emotion. Totally wrong. “I mean, that’s nice.”

He grinned, but was looking at her the way one might look at a bug crammed in your windshield wipers. “You should go, Zola. It’ll be fun.”

She lifted her chin, promising herself she wouldn’t show any more emotion. At least not today. Would this boy ever notice her? Really notice her? She had a feeling she’d have to set herself on fire first.

“I don’t know. I have like,
so
much going on with my senior project. And the shopping for a dress part takes sooo long. Dances aren’t really my thing anyway.”

He nodded, but continued staring at her with those smoky gray eyes. She had a feeling he wanted to say something more but was stopping himself. It was just as well. Whatever he had to say, she probably didn’t want to hear it.

She tapped the book in front of her like a true English tutor should. “All ready? I just remembered I have to be home by six.”

And there it was. Blasé.

* * * *

Zola boarded the plane with the heavy mist doing nothing to lift her spirits. Her parents had said their goodbyes at the gate, kissing her and making her promise to come back in time to put the tree up on Christmas Eve. From Oliver, she’d gotten a simple text that had cut straight to the bone.
Wish we lived closer.

She buckled herself in, listening to a no-nonsense flight attendant make her rounds. Zola looked out the window. The propellers from the small commuter plane whirred above the tarmac as a few bundled up airline employees loaded the bags below. She put her chin in her hand and watched her breath fog up the window.

She wished they lived closer too. That kiss last night had been so full of electricity that she’d dreamed about it all night long. Only, in her dream, they’d been seventeen again. And were making out on top of a paperback copy of
The Catcher in the Rye
.

She sighed. If they lived closer, she probably would have slept with him. And sleeping with a guy on the first date was a terrible idea. Especially if it was the guy who occupied every single one of your fantasies since getting your driver’s license. Zola had actually only been with three other men, and the last one had been a year ago. So to say she was nervous was the understatement of the century. At her age, she felt like she should be sexually mature. Able to seduce and hold the attention of a man like Oliver Tworek. When in reality, the woman who stepped onto his boat a few days ago wearing the cute scarf and trim jacket was nothing but an imposter. Underneath was the girl from high school who would always be too shy to make the first move.

Zola leaned back as the captain turned on the fasten seatbelt sign and the plane backed away from the gate with a lurch. Deep down, she just wasn’t sure of herself. And that was the biggest buzzkill of all.

* * * *

Oliver guided the boat away from the dock. The sun had finally pierced the afternoon clouds, and the day was turning out to be bright and beautiful, though the wind was stiff and the water was choppy. He’d seen more than one sick looking passenger make a beeline for the bathroom. He sat back in his seat, his jaw working, lost in thought.