Page 21 of Wed to the Devil
God, her weight on my lap and her soft curves against my body are almost too much for me to handle. I start moving my head, angling for another taste of her luscious mouth. But she waves me off and clamors off my lap, standing.
“I need to eat again,” Talia says. “I feel a little faint.”
Repressing a sigh, I stand up and shoo her from the room. “Let’s get some food for you.”
She vanishes out of the doorway in a flash, eager to leave our conversation behind. I follow her, my steps heavy, wondering how long this peace between us will last.
ChapterSeven
TALIA
Once the storm clears, Dare sails the boat back to the dock. While he navigates the ship, I sneak peeks into the small cabin where he stays, absentmindedly looking at his phone while he makes sure that the ship steers itself safely on its course.
At last, he puts his phone away and stares out at the sea, standing by the manual wheel for the ship. I can’t help but wonder what he is thinking about. Honestly, I am impressed that he stays still for so long when the meditation session hits twenty minutes.
Is he thinking about us? Or perhaps what awaits us in Harwicke. That’s the more likely answer.
I spend most of the rest of the day on my own in the living room, working on a book of tough crosswords that I found shoved in between all the Parcheesi sets and the Monopoly boards.
I get lost in my own thoughts, tangled up with twelve-letter words and clues about rivers that run through Paris. When I notice the ship gently pull to a stop, I look up and the sky above me is growing quite dark.
I head back up to the main deck and find Dare descending the stairs from the navigation deck. He arches a brow and he sees the crossword book still clutched in my hand.
“Where did you find that?”
I look down at the book and shrug. “It was on the board games shelf in the living room.”
He gives me a dubious look for reasons completely unknown to me. Then he jerks his head toward the dock. “Come on. We have to go back to real life eventually. Might as well jump right in.”
I follow him, allowing him to lead me from the ship down the steps to the dock. It’s only then that I realize that this is not the dock we departed from. It’s much smaller, only three other boats moored to one side. The other boats look like little toys next to the ship that I am departing. “Where are we?” I ask.
Dare keeps walking, his pace never slowing for a moment. “This is one of many slips that we own. We're just at the southern tip of Maine right now, only half an hour by car from Harwicke.”
“Oh.” I blink, realizing that the snowy ground might be one of the reasons why I am so confused. Though the massive mountains are missing from where we originally departed from, everything else could be the same. There is thick snow on the ground, a few people bustling down the wood planks toward their boats, and it is just as cold here as it was when we were in Canada a few days ago.
I step off the last plank onto solid ground and immediately feel the ground tilt. It’s the weirdest thing; I think my body had just gotten used to the gentle swaying of the ship. Now my legs feel strange and rubbery without the slight movement of the earth beneath my feet.
Dare eyes me as I stumble forward, grabbing my arm. “Don’t worry. Happens to everybody. The feeling will be gone before you know it.”
He hustles me up a well worn footpath and we come into the parking lot where, idling in the handicapped spot, is a big black SUV. As soon as we make it onto the wide concrete surface of the parking lot, the doors open and I see two familiar faces. Frick and Frack climb out of the car, their expressions all business as usual.
Frick opens the passenger door, giving me a cool smile. If she is upset that I ran away on her watch, she doesn’t say anything about it. She gives me a little bow.
“Welcome back,” she says.
For some reason, I blush deeply. I don’t say anything but I climb in the back of the SUV. Dare slides in beside me, pulling his phone from his pocket. When Frick and Frack are both back in the car, Dare says, without looking up from his phone, “Go ahead. You can fill me in on the improvements to the loft later.”
I shift my gaze over to him but Frick just backs the SUV up and heads toward Harwicke. A few minutes into the drive, I grow tired of staring out the window at the coastline as we speed past. I look at Dare and he is still reading from his phone, scrolling and looking concerned. I pull out the crossword magazine from the boat and open the spot I have marked with a pencil. I work diligently for a minute before finding a clue that I am stumped by. I page through some of the other crosswords that have been filled in by what I assume is a feminine hand.
When the magazine is ripped from my hands, I look up, stunned. Dare is holding the magazine, his expression furious. “Where did you get this?”
I reach for the magazine, scowling at him. “I already told you. It was on the ship.”
Dare closes the magazine, smoothing his hand over the front cover as if it were somehow invaluable. “This is my mother’s magazine. My mother’s handwriting is in it.”
My pulse speeds up. I want very badly to ask what he means, but I don’t think that Dare will be particularly forthcoming with his story in front of Frick and Frack.
He is still looking at the magazine, his hand touching the cover reverently. So I reach over and squeeze his forearm. He looks at me, his eyes somewhat unfocused.