Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance, Natasha Boyd [e reader books .TXT] 📗

“Bon.” If I remembered, Charleston was a quaint little city with a young but well-preserved history. It was also a walking city so it wasn’t surprising she didn’t have a car. I’d really enjoyed my brief trip to meet with a super yacht company who had bid on and won my business for the more eco-friendly yacht I was planning to upgrade to. I loved the ocean, and these gas-guzzling and oil slicking beasts weren’t very good for it. “She’s an architect,” I offered.

“She’s what?” His eyebrows hit his hairline.

“An architect. She’d have a degree or something with her name on it. Start there.”

“That’s impressive. Beautiful and smart.”

“Apparently.” I growled at him.

Evan turned to the door. “Oh, by the way, I told her she wasn’t allowed to leave. You’re welcome. I felt like you both needed a cool down period.”

“You did what?” Fuck. The last thing I needed was her feeling like a prisoner, especially if she had issues with being on a boat. “Evan.”

He shrugged with a cryptic look. “New security measure I just implemented. No one on or off the boat twelve hours before we move port.”

“Twelve hours?”

“Okay, fine, we can make it three. But with Michello skulking around, it’s a good idea anyway. I want to make sure we’re safe.”

Somehow, I didn’t think the new security feature had much to do with my ex-brother-in-law and everything to do with the fact that Josephine had quit and Evan wanted her to stay. What was my old friend up to?

A stray thought popped into my head. My hand clenched.

I scowled at him. “Wait. You’re not … you don’t … you know there’s no fraternizing.”

“What?” Evan stopped with his hand on the door, and then busted out laughing. “Jealousy is a good look on you, my friend.”

“Get out.”

He raised a palm. “Pas de problème.”

Chapter Thirteen

JOSIE

First morning jet lag was like a heavy beast in my head hanging on tight to my eyelids. I persuaded Dauphine out of my room where she’d bounded in to wake me up, telling her I needed to shower and change and then I’d meet her upstairs. The boat was moving. I sluggishly showered, rinsing my hair again, since I’d slept on it wet and woken up looking like a cast member from Sesame Street. I tied my hair in a low bun and pulled on a simple sundress I’d found on sale last fall while out shopping on King Street with Meredith. With my best friends on my mind, I checked my phone for a message.

Tabs: How was your first night?

I quickly typed back, cognizant of the time. It was late morning here already, and I had a little girl to look after.

Everything is great. Food delicious. Boat on the move. Jet lagged. I hope you’re good. Miss you. More later xo

I realized the sound of the engine was so loud because there was a door open in the hallway down to what looked like an engine room. The walls were cream and well lit. I peered down the metal stairs. “Got it?” a man’s voice said. I didn’t think it was Evan or Paco. “We’ll have to replace the ballbearing, over,” the British voice said and then the body it belonged to emerged—sandy haired, skinnier than Evan, and wearing a white polo and khaki shorts that now had black grease stains smeared in places. “Oh, hullo,” he said with a broad smile, revealing slightly crooked teeth when he saw me. He was young, but sea weathered. Perhaps an ex-surfer. “You must be Miss Marin.”

“I am.” I held out my hand.

He held up his black grease-covered one apologetically. “I’m Rod. I’m a deck hand. I missed you when you arrived yesterday, I was taking a bit of time off. Sorry about my hand being greased up. Just had a wee problem with one of the systems. No big deal.”

“No problem. Nice to meet you. When did you get on board?” I asked conversationally.

“Uh.” He scratched his head. “About five this morning, right before we set off.”

“Is that right? Well, I’ll leave you to it.” I waved and stomped up the stairs. Evan was going to get an earful from me. Imagine telling me no one could get on and off the boat for twelve hours before we moved? I growled.

As soon as I got to the main living area, I took a moment to look outside the window. We were cutting through the water, land to our right. The morning sun sparkled off the blue waves. I wanted to appreciate it more, but my need for caffeine outweighed the gorgeous view. I had yet to see where the chef worked, so I looked around for where the kitchen might be. Wait, was it even called a kitchen? A galley?

The sound of masculine laughter came from the bridge.

I headed that way to say good morning and perhaps be pointed in the right direction for caffeine.

Dauphine sat in the captain’s chair, her hands on the large wheel, and Captain Paco stood behind her, pointing into the distance. A breeze blew through the open windows and the scent of salted air was a welcome jolt to my tired brain.

“Good morning,” I greeted.

“Look! I drive the boat,” Dauphine gushed when she saw me.

I chuckled. “I can see that, no wonder it’s such a smooth ride. You must be doing a great job.”

She flushed with pride.

“I was wondering where I might find some breakfast leftovers and some coffee.”

Dauphine abandoned post, sliding off the high wooden chair. “I will bring you.” She was in tiny white shorts and a blue t-shirt. Her hair needed a brush.

Paco patted her head.

“Sorry you have to lose your co-captain,” I told him, setting my feet farther apart to allow for the motion of the boat.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, sticking an unlit skinny cigar in his mouth.

“Not enough. I’m still on American time.”

He nodded. “It will take a few days.”

Dauphine tugged on my hand. “Come.”

I raised my other in a goodbye wave