I stared down at the texts on my phone.
Scarlett: Can you be here now? She wants to get this done so she can get an earlier flight for her vacation.
Scarlett: Where are you? I told her we could make it.
Scarlett: I don’t want to go alone. I’m not as good at negotiating as you.
“Shit,” I muttered as I hitched my bag over my shoulder.
Me: Don’t sign anything until I’m there.
Of course, even with Mav tearing through the Seattle streets, I didn’t make the ferry. I waited in the terminal, legs bouncing with anxiety, hoping for a response from Scar.
The walk-on crowd began loading onto the boat, people chatting happily, quite a few couples holding hands, carrying fresh bouquets from Pike Place Market.
I sighed, letting nostalgia wash over me for the barest second. I’d had that once upon a time. True love, or so I’d thought. Until he got drafted by the NFL and left his college girlfriend behind. Hint... I was the college girlfriend. I’d been so young and wide-eyed. Now I just laugh at the girl I used to be. The one who believed in fate and love, romance and the ‘good ones.’ Now I know they don’t exist. No matter how much we want them to.
I sat quietly, scrolling through Scar’s social media posts for the bakery, responding to emails and comments, until the ferry docked and I could finally run for the storefront location.
Sun beamed through the window as I sat on one of the bench seats, the vinyl creaking with every shift of my hips. It was a full boat today, the weekend crowd getting out of the city and heading for the charm of the island.
My phone buzzed in my hand, a message from Scar.
Scarlett: I signed the lease. As is. I’m sorry, she wouldn’t wait.
“What? No! Oh, shit on a shingle.”
A low chuckle from behind me had me turning around to face a tall tattooed man sitting in the booth behind me. He was manspread across the entirety of the bench, his dark ball cap pulled down over his eyes.
“Something funny?”
Tilting his head up, he flashed me a panty-melting grin.
“Aye, lass. You.”
“You’re laughing at me?”
The man raised his face, hitting me with a mischievous grin. “Your nose does this adorable crinkly thing when you’re cross. With your blonde hair and that green shirt, you look a wee bit like Tinkerbell.”
The only thing that kept me talking to him was the Scots accent. I swear. That was it—except for the tattoos running down his forearms and peeking out above the collar of his henley. Okay, so there was more than just the accent.
I couldn’t tell if he was flirting or just a friendly, playful person. “Does that make you Peter Pan?”
“Oh, no, my wee darlin’. That makes me Captain Hook. I’m too much of a bad boy to be claiming anything more gallant.”
“You know Captain Hook poisoned Tinkerbell, right?”
“No. He tried to poison Peter Pan. Tink got in the middle. She saved him.”
“Same difference.” I shrugged.
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. What if Hook was the one Tink should’ve been pining for all along? Peter was a spoiled brat who didn’t know what he had. Hook saw right through him. She should’ve allied herself with the pirates. She would’ve been better off.”
My lips twitched in a smile. I couldn’t stop myself. “Okay. You keep telling yourself that. Clearly you’ve got an untapped villain arc you need to explore.”
Turning away from him, I stared out the window as the boat sailed toward Bainbridge. We were very nearly there already, the crossing only taking thirty minutes. Soon I’d be on my way to the house I shared with Scarlett, hopeful she hadn’t made a decision that would bankrupt our fledgling bakery. The hot Scot plopped down in the bench seat across from me, invading my space with his cocky smirk. “So you don’t like a bad boy, then, lass?”
I shook my head and forced my gaze everywhere but on him. “No. It’s been my experience that all bad boys stay bad. Even when they pretend they’re reformed.”