Page 15 of Forbidden Forward

As I pull into the parking lot, I spot a guy about to climb into the driver’s side of a shiny late-model white truck. The vehicle’s parked in a section reserved exclusively for people who rent slips at the marina, and it’s one of only a few. A hoodie obscures his face, but his head is canted and I can tell he’s looking at me. He turns fully and raises his hand. Is he … waving? He raises his other hand, where a backpack that looks a lot like mine dangles from his fingers. Soon he’s trotting toward me, and I roll down my window and wait.

Colby Chase flashes a bright-white smile inside his hood as he holds up the backpack. My backpack. “Looking for this?”

I exhale my relief. “Yes. Were you … You weren’t going to try and find me, were you?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I was. Figured you needed whatever’s in here.” His expression turns a little sheepish, and I wonder if he pawed through my stuff. Not that I have anything to hide, but I don’t know this guy, and I normally recoil at the idea of a stranger looking under my personal hood—especially after Royal. Strange that my recoil reaction isn’t quite as strong right now.

Opening the driver’s side door, I swing my legs and rest the soles of my feet on the sill. “So you were going to drive around Beaufort looking for me?” I don’t hide my astonishment.

He hands me the backpack, which I toss on the floorboards on the passenger side. The rain has stopped, and he slips off the hood. His face comes into view, and I focus on his strong jaw and full lips. He’s got the crooked nose typical of a hockey player, but it enhances his looks rather than detracting from them. Did he do something to make himself more handsome since I left?

He took a shower.

How do I know this? His thick brown hair is fluffier, and he smells really, really good. Not that he didn’t smell good before, but a fresh-soap, woodsy man fragrance is rolling off him now, and I tell myself not to sniff like a bloodhound hot on a criminal’s trail.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “I figured you might be headed to Atlantic Beach, so I was going to cruise the parking lots and see if I could spot your Jeep.”

“Oh.” My tongue ties because … God, that’s sweet. Is this really the bloodsucking tick Donny warned me about? Did my brother misjudge him—or am I just keeping my guard up out of habit?

My tongue frees itself. “That’s considerate of you, and I’m glad I saved you the trouble.” I’ve caused this guy enough of that today.

“No big deal. Can’t really work on the boat right now anyway, so I didn’t have much else to do.”

Why do I not believe he has better things to do than chase me down? Probably because the foolish romantic in me likes the idea of him taking the time to find me.

“Um, well, thank you for, uh, everything,” I stammer. “Can I repay you?” This comes out of my mouth before I have a chance to reel it back.

“I didn’t do anything,” he insists. Then his mouth curls up in a smile that’s both devilish and devastating. “But if you’re going to be around and you’re free Friday morning, I could use an extra pair of hands.”

That’s two days away—I’m not going to be here. Something has me asking, “What do you need help with?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I want to take the five kiddos from today out on the boat, but it can be tricky when some of them are in wheelchairs and I’m dealing with the sails and handling the boat. None of their parents can help out that day, and without that extra set of hands, I’ll probably have to stay moored.”

My heartstrings twang. “Are you sure the weather’s going to cooperate?”

“Not a hundred percent, but I checked. So far, it looks good.” His brows knot together. “I didn’t even ask if you’re okay with sailing.”

“Don’t know. I’ve never tried it.” I tilt my head. “But I like the ocean, and I could be up for a new adventure. I can be your first mate.” First mate? What am I saying? I tell myself I’m making a fool of myself on purpose for the kids, but even I don’t believe me.

Colby’s smile widens, and he reminds me of a little boy who’s just hit the jackpot at Christmas. “I don’t really need a first mate, but I’d love to have the extra pair of eyes and set of hands. Be here at nine thirty so we can go over a few things before the kids arrive.”

“Do I need to bring anything—besides shoes that don’t leave scuff marks?”

He drops his head back and lets out a warm, chest-rumbling laugh, and I’m ridiculously pleased that I coaxed that sound from him. He levels those smoky-gray eyes back on me, and amusement dances in them. “Make sure those shoes are close-toed. Dress in layers and prepare to get wet.” His gaze makes a slow sweep of my face. “You’re fair-skinned, so bring your sunglasses and your favorite sunscreen, if you’ve got it. If not, I’ve got plenty you can use. I also have lots of food and drinks, so we should be set.”

My heart rate gathers speed, though I’m not sure if it’s because he noticed my skin tone or if it’s the anticipation of watching Colby Chase sail a boat.

The racing heart might be of the negative variety because Donovan hates this guy, and I can predict how he’ll react. My brother will strangle him first and then me if he finds out; I’ll just have to make sure he never does.

As I drive away, I call the hotel to extend my stay. While I’ve got the clerk on the line, I ask where I can find a store that sells boat shoes.

Excitement begins percolating in my veins.

Chapter 9

Show Me What You Got

Colby