Page 22 of The Sailor

“I can walk by myself,” she reminded him.

“We’ve had this discussion,” he told her with a small shrug.

“Fine. But give me twenty minutes or so.”

“That’s all you need?”

She tilted her head back even more to meet his gaze. “Do you think I need more?”

“I think you’re a woman. And I haven’t known many women to be that fast with a shower and a change.”

“Well, you know one now.”

“Cool. The faster we can change, the more time we get to spend with each other. I’ve missed you this week. Texting is great, and I’ve loved the quick calls we’ve had, but I like being able to see you in person, to hold you, way more.”

“Me too,” she agreed a little shyly.

“Come on. The faster we get going, the faster I can feed you.”

They got into his SUV, and he remembered the stop he’d made before going to the dock. After she sat, he reached into the back, holding up a bag with a grin. “I stopped and got some Ruckus Donuts for dessert.”

Marit’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I love those things!”

“Doesn’t everyone? I’m a good cook, but baking isn’t my forte. I’m happy to support a local business and satisfy my sweet tooth at the same time,” he said.

“Thank you, Zach.”

“You’re welcome.” Happy that the impromptu stop had brought a smile to her face, Zach turned the key in the ignition and backed out of his parking space.

The trip to her apartment was fast, and Zach mentally went through the things he had at his own place, trying to decide what he could make for her. She needed something filling; she worked at her job, burned lots of calories. Marit wasn’t the kind of woman who shied away from eating carbs and a large meal . . . at least, he didn’t think so.

After he’d washed the smell of fried food out of his hair and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he quickly prepped some chicken parmesan for dinner. He popped the chicken into the oven, which should be ready by the time he and Marit returned.

Then he set out for her place, arriving exactly twenty-two minutes and thirty-four seconds after he’d dropped her off. He went up the stairs to her door and knocked. She answered almost immediately—and it was all Zach could do not to fall to his knees right then and there and beg her to love him forever.

She was wearing another pair of jeans, and a tank top that showed off the muscles she’d gained from working on the lobster boat. It dipped low in the front, giving him what he guessed was supposed to be a hint of cleavage, but was actually more than she probably thought, considering he was so much taller—and looking almost straight down her shirt.

His mouth watered, but Zach pushed the lustful thoughts away. He respected Marit, and it was obvious she hadn’t dressed for seduction. He could control his desire for her . . . maybe.

She’d left her long hair down, and it was still damp. It was darker than normal, but when it dried it would be back to its unusual white-blonde color. The ends curled around her tits, framing them perfectly. She looked like a damn angel . . . and Zach wanted to defile her in every way possible.

“You clean up nicely,” she said with a smile.

“You too,” Zach told her.

“You want me to bring anything over to help with dinner?”

“Just yourself.”

“All right. I’m ready.”

“No purse?” Zach asked.

Marit shrugged. “I’ve got a credit card and my ID in the little pocket on the back of my phone case. My keys will fit in my pocket. Don’t need much else.”

“True. Don’t you worry that if you lose your phone, you’ll lose your stuff?”

“Not really. When I’m on the boat, I put my phone into a dry bag that’s clipped onto a hook in the cabin, so it can’t fall overboard accidentally. And when I’m not on the boat, I’ve always got my phone in my back pocket. It hasn’t been an issue, honestly.”