Page 6 of Unmoored: How to Fail at Hating the Boss

Clearly she has no idea what almost happened, or she wouldn’t be grinning at me like that.

I thought I’d have to calm her down, but she appears to be as unfazed as Foster’s tipsy passengers.

“Next time, you stay put and watch me do it. You might have experience on your grandpa’s jon boat, but you’re still green at this marina. It looks easy, but you could get injured so fast…”

I can’t even continue that sentence.

“I’m so sorry, boss,” she says, but her smile is too cute for this subject matter. Her curved lips are too unserious. She hasno idea the danger she put herself in. “But I promise you, I’m a strong swimmer if I fall in. I have wilderness training and my SAR cert.”

I take a step closer, emphasizing how serious this is. “A certification doesn’t mean shit if you hit your head and I have to pull your body out of the water.”

God, when I think about that…I turn away and close my eyes.

I feel Quincy’s warm hand rest on my upper arm. “Boss, are you okay?”

I snap out of it. It’s all I can do.

“I’m fine,” I say, meeting her compassionate gaze. I don’t want her looking at me like that. She has no idea.

“You seem really shaken. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Breathing through the moment, I turn away and head up the walkway toward the Minnow Bucket, the small convenience store that sells bait and tackle as well as snacks and other supplies.

“Come on, I’ve got an assignment for you.”

Quincy is right on my heels as my steps creak along the walkway, boats in the uncovered slips gently rocking in the water. “What is it?” Quincy asks excitedly, trying to walk side by side.

“I think it’s safer for you if we walk single file,” I comment.

No smart reply this time. I feel better knowing she can follow orders. Truly, some people cannot.

But more than the danger, I don’t want Quincy getting too close to me for a multitude of reasons. My mind goes back to the moment when I grabbed her. I can still feel her soft curves against me, the faint floral scent when her hair brushed my cheek, mixed with the ever-present metallic tang of sunscreen. The way she smiled at me two seconds after her brush withdeath. Maybe that’s an overreaction, but my body still hums with adrenaline.

I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time to worry about a clumsy greenhorn. Especially when that worry is all mixed up with how attracted I am to those pretty, tanned legs, and with the wonder of how they would feel wrapped around me.

Quincy works for me. That means she’s off limits.

Off limits, I mentally repeat to myself as I approach the Minnow Bucket, my hand idly rubbing the spot where Quincy’s hand touched my arm.

I hold open the door for her and watch the sway of her hips as she breezes inside. She stays silent as I show her the digital cash register and the phone.

“It’s pretty simple,” I tell her, explaining that boaters come inside to pay for the single-day rentals and showing her where to log them in. The long-term rentals and storage, most of those are set up as automatic withdrawal, but the few that come in to pay in person should be a no-brainer for her. I show her on the computer where to find the register for all the slips and dry storage. “You log everyone here so we know who’s on the dock and who’s paid.” Ninety percent of the calls are people asking about the hours of the Heron’s Nest, the lakeside restaurant on the east end of the complex, and I show her how to transfer calls over there.

When I’m done showing Quincy everything in the shop, it ends with her blinking at me.

“You look confused,” I say.

“No, not confused,” she says quietly. “But Susan already showed me all of that. I think I can handle it.”

I dip my chin and turn away from her, eager to put distance between us. It’s not what I want, but it’s for the best. “Call or text if you have any questions.”

But please don’t call or text me. I’ll come running when I don’t need more excuses to sniff her hair.

“Reef?”

I turn around and try to look cool. My chest aches at her expression. A little sad, maybe. All the fun behind her eyes is gone. I know I’m not being entirely fair to her by shutting her up indoors to do the most mundane of tasks when she should be getting more docking experience.

“Yeah?”