Page 8 of Unmoored: How to Fail at Hating the Boss

I can’t help myself from looking him up and down. He looks more crisp today—white shorts pressed sharp. Today’s dry-fit uniform polo is sky-blue and tucked in neatly, and the faint scent of aftershave wafts over with the breeze. He’s clean-shaven, too, which I notice with a pang. I prefer the scruff.

“Technically, I’m…monitoring the wildlife,” I reply, holding the magazine up to block the sun.

He moves to block the sun from hitting my eyes.

“Monitoring wildlife? With a…” He cocks his head to see what’s in my hands. “…a wedding magazine?”

“Oh, it’s not me…not mine. Not my wedding, I mean. Weddings? Yuck!”

Am I having a stroke? Why am I so flustered?

Reef patiently waits for me to finish. Or he’s staring just to stare. Hard to tell. After wishing and failing to summon a sea creature to rise up and swallow me whole, he finally extends a hand. “Come on. Pump-out station.”

“Awesome,” I huff, coming to my feet and tucking the magazine under my arm.

Reef doesn’t do much to fill the silence as he guides me down to the dock to what has to be the most disgusting task at the marina.

I don’t bother reminding him that Susan already showed me more or less how to do this, because I know he’s just going toshow me everything anyway. And I don’t actually mind that. At the stainless-steel contraption by the water’s edge, Reef runs me through the procedure, his voice all business. “You stand here. Always. Safe distance. I’ll do the initial setup.”

“Is the hose going to wrestle me into the lake?”

He gives me a side-eye. “It might.” He crouches to connect the hose to the deck fitting on the back of one of the bigger boats at the marina, a double-engine vessel with upper and lower cabins. “Now watch. Valves open in this order…gauge here…always check for leaks.”

After instructions and a couple of safety lectures, he finally says, “Your turn.”

My fingers curl around the pump handle as Reef steps in behind me, his large hands briefly guiding mine. The heat from him and the faint scent of aftershave make my heart skip. Isn’t this every girl’s dream, to swoon at the touch of a man while you operate a sewage machine? Good god, what’s wrong with me?

Horny. That’s what. It’s been so long since I had sex that I’m not even turned off by the idea of filth.

“Not like that,” Reef says, leaning close, adjusting my grip. “Smooth, steady. Don’t yank.”

“I never yank,” I say suggestively.

I need to seek professional help.

I can’t hear much over the sound of the machine, but I swear I hear him let out a growly sound behind me. Nah. Probably just the machine.

I manage to operate the pump under Reef’s judgy gaze, with him hovering as if I might set off a geyser at any moment.

When the tank finally empties, Reef nods, satisfied. “Not terrible.”

“You did most of the work,” I say, wishing I could run away and wash my perfectly clean hands.

He moves away from me to coil the hose, seemingly shying away from the banter in the moment. I stand back, secretly enjoying the view of Reef’s back muscles bunching under that shirt.

He’ll be barking orders at me soon enough. So as long as he keeps quiet and doesn’t mind me looking, I’ll look.

Four

Reef

Tidying the slips in this humidity is like moving through chowder. Tasks like coiling ropes usually don't bother me, even in this heat, but it’s especially oppressive today. I go into a meditative headspace and think about nothing. Today, all I can do is think about Quincy.

I’m half-listening to the whine of a boat engine in the distance, wondering what she’s thinking about, when that familiar high-pitched laughter echoes across the water.

I look up, noticing Quincy standing in the covered area of the dock, her hair loose around her shoulders as she chats with a pair of boaters who’ve just pulled in. A couple of the younger marina workers hover around her, too, leaning on pilings, grinning at her like a couple of fools and nudging each other. Is that one checking out her ass? Don’t they know she’s a teacher?

It’s wrong of me to assume that, but my throat tightens in consternation anyway. They’re probably just socializing, but in my body, it feels like there’s a crowd of men flirting with her.