Free Rock the Boat: A Griffin Bay Novel by Lib Starling

school’ act down to a science, but come on , Jordy. It’s obviously just his defense.”
    “Defense? What does he need to defend himself against? He’s world-famous! He’s got more money than I’ll ever have!”
    Emily looked up from the fathometer again, her pretty face shadowed by an irritated frown. “You know it creeps me out to talk about how much money my family has. But… take it from your friend who was raised like a princess: money doesn’t solve all your problems. In fact, I think it only makes more problems.”
    Jordan shook her head, annoyed at herself, chiding herself for the insensitivity. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
    “It’s all right,” Emily said quickly. “You know I love ya. Thirteen feet.”
    Jordan peered down at the GPS readout of the Fisherman Bay chart. She turned the helm expertly, angling the Coriolis into the exact center of the channel. They went on in silence for a few moments more. Then finally Jordan said, “So… what do you think Davis is hiding from?”
    Emily raised one pale-gold eyebrow.
    “Not that I’m really all that interested,” Jordan added.
    “Of course not. Well, I can’t say for sure. But Davis seems to be really hate silence. Haven’t you noticed it? He can’t handle quiet—if there’s not something happening to hold his attention, some big, loud, thumping noise to distract him, he shuts himself in his cabin and blasts his music. It’s been a clear pattern since the first night of our trip. Something’s going on inside his head that makes silence intolerable.”
    “His own thoughts?” Jordan wondered aloud. Dark thoughts or painful memories—those were the only things she could imagine that might haunt a quiet moment.
    Emily shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”
    “Fat chance of that ever happening. The only time he ever talks to me is to ask me if there’s a town with a bar on whatever island we’re sailing past, so he can go ashore and party . What does he thinks this is, Jay-Z’s yacht?”
    “Well, he is a paying customer,” Emily said. “Kind of. I don’t have to tell you, the consummate professional, that he gets some say over what he does, since we’re the work for hire.”
    “I’m still the captain, and I call the shots as long as we’re onboard.”
    They navigated through the final turn of the channel and glided out into the glassy, gray expanse of Fisherman Bay. The low, grass-green profile of Lopez Island emerged from the mist, and Jordan concentrated on anchoring the boat, grateful for a reason to stop wondering about Davis, even if it was only a momentary distraction. As the anchor chain rattled loudly down from the bow and the engine hummed into reverse, she realized that she didn’t really want to know what plagued Davis’s thoughts. If she learned what lay under that cocky, contrarian exterior she was afraid she might find him… sympathetic. As likable as Emily and Storm found him to be. Jordan didn’t want to like her final client. She wanted it to be easy to fold up Sea Wolf Charters and leave this experience behind. The last thing she needed was to look back on her chartering business with any warm, fuzzy feelings.
    The sound of the anchor had evidently roused Davis from his shielding cocoon of obnoxious music. He came up the ladder to the cockpit and stood stretching right in front of Jordan’s face—his lean, hard body bent in a posture of lazy display, the muscles in his arms and chest rippling. He said nothing, but gave Jordan one of those slanted, arrogant, coolly amused smiles.
    Jordan’s cheeks burned, and she hated herself for blushing—for showing any discomfiture where Davis could see. Had he known she’d been checking him out the whole time he was stretching? Of course he had. He seemed to know every time Jordan looked at him, as if he could feel her gaze like a physical touch. And he seemed to know, too, that Jordan couldn’t help it—she had no choice but to stare