Someone was in my home. In my private space.
Sure, the loft leaves much to be desired. But it's always been mine. And now, someone's invaded that space. Taken my sanctuary and dirtied it, violated it, until I no longer feel secure in the only place I've ever been able to call home.
That fucking sucks, if I’m being honest.
I look around for Parker, assuming he’s on the phone with Nate, and instead find him by my dresser, indiscriminately jamming clothes into a bag.
“What are you doing?” I screech, watching as three of my sweaters and a faded pair of jeans are shoved inside the duffle.
“I’m fucking packing,” he snaps, never pausing. “Someone was in your home. Someone destroyed everything you’ve built here. Your work. Your life.” His voice is a growl. “You're not spending another night in this place until this shit is handled.”
“But—”
“In fact, even after it’s handled you’re not coming back here," he mutters. “If you never spend another night in this place again it'll be too soon, the way I see it.”
“No one asked how you see it!” I exclaim, walking toward him and trying to pull the bag from his grip. He just lifts his arm so I can't reach and, damn it, I'm too proud to jump like a kid playing keep-away.
“Parker—”
“Hush.”
“Don't tell me to hush, playboy!” I hiss. "Just where exactly do you expect me to stay? This is my home. We don't all own property on three different private islands."
“You're staying with me,” he says succinctly.
I scoff. “I am not staying with you.”
He drops the bag to the bed and turns chilly hazel eyes to mine. “Remember last night, when I fucked you until you couldn't move and you fell asleep in my arms? That moment — you became mine. I protect what's mine, darling. I protect it with every breath. Bottom line, I care about you... And I don't really give a shit whether you want me to or not.”
I suck in a breath. “I'll stay with Luca.”
His eyes narrow. “Like hell you will. That man has no concept of boundaries when it comes to you.”
“He's my friend!”
“And I'm your—”
“My what?" I cut him off. “What exactly are you to me, Parker West? Boyfriend? Bossy asshole? Annoying man-child who refuses to listen to reason?”
“You need a word or a definition for what I am to you, that's your problem. I'm not your fill-in-the-blank bullshit label. I'm just yours. And you're mine." He leans down and presses a hard, angry kiss against my lips. "That means you don't get to run off to some other guy's arms or bed."
"You're being outrageous!"
"This is me being reasonable, darling. You'd better fucking get used to it, because I'm not going anywhere." With that, he slings the packed duffle over one shoulder, grabs my hand, and hits a button on his phone to make a call, all while tugging me across the loft in long-legged strides. We’re not even at the elevator when his voice cracks over the line.
"Nate? It's me. Change of plans…”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing in the cabin of Folly, trying to keep myself from bursting into tears. My outrage at Parker’s bossy behavior has been replaced by a much more alarming emotion. I swallow once, twice, three times trying to dislodge the lump in my throat as I stare at the set of light blue foul weather gear in a woman’s petite size small sitting on the table. Beside the suit, there’s a set of tiny rubber boots that look about my size.
God dammit. Do not fucking cry, Zoe Bloom. Get your shit together.
“What?” Parker asks, catching sight of my expression as he climbs down into the cabin after me. “Do you not like the color? I can get that same gear in pink or red or white if you like that better. Just don’t pick anything dark — the whole point is to wear something bright so I can see you if you fall overboard.”
I pull a deep breath in through my nose and manage to get a hold of myself.
“I like the color,” I murmur, staring at Parker.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
His expression is wary. “The look on your face says otherwise.”
Steadying my shoulders, I walk to him and slide my arms around his waist. “I promise, nothing’s wrong. In fact… it’s alarmingly close to perfect.”
“Oh, dear god, no! The horror!” He grins. “We can’t have that! Don’t worry – twenty minutes ago you wanted to kill me. I’m sure I’ll do something to fuck things up or piss you off again soon.”
I stretch up onto my tiptoes and kiss him softly. “Undoubtedly,” I whisper against his lips, enjoying the sensation of his smiling lips curved against mine.
“Come on.” He squeezes me tight one last time, then pushes me away. “Put them on. We have to cast off soon or the sun will set, and it’s no fun sailing in the dark. Plus, we’ll miss our reservation.”
“Reservation?”
He nods.
“When in the world did you have time to make reservations?”