Scandalous Scotsman - M.J. Fields Page 0,30

all after making a dinner date with Kenzie, and now here we are, stuck on this floating fiasco.

In pain. A knee to the nuts is never a good time.

And yeah, fucking turned on. Elizabeth Bloom, enough said.

Regardless, I’ve got to keep my shit together and not allow instinct to drive me to throw her sexy, barely covered ass over my shoulder, give her a good spanking, and then fuck her twice as hard as I had last night. Had I not taken it easy on her this morning and afternoon, she would have still been stuck to the sheets.

Walking out of the bathroom, I look down the deck and see Kenzie talking with Bridget, Tonya, and Elizabeth, who’s gripping the railing as if it’s holding her steady and still swaying.

She’s drunk.

Fuck.

Scanning the area for Captain Nichols to find out how soon we can get this thing back to the launch point, I find him immediately. Thank fuck.

Forty minutes, he tells me, forty fucking minutes.

Balls sore or not, I’m not okay with Kenzie chatting it up with Elizabeth, who looks like a pissed-off baby kitten ready to take on a fucking tiger. That tiger is filing her claws.

Kenzie asked me who each guest was during dinner, homing in on Elizabeth. I simply told her that she and her friend were with Bridget, and that I didn’t know them well.

This is fucking ridiculous.

Once upon a time, I may have found it hot when two women wanted me. Hell, I would even enjoy sitting on the bench and seeing who would win, hoping it would be a draw that could be resolved by all three of us … in bed, but not anymore.

I thank Dr. Jefferson for coming, hoping he couldn’t tell I didn’t pay one bit of attention to what he was talking about, and then me, and my aching balls, make our way to Simon, Bridget, Tonya, Kenzie, and the cause of my aching balls— Elizabeth Bloom.

“I love your dress.” Kenzie flashes a fake smile. “Is it a Kate Spade?”

“Thank you. No, it’s from Targét.”

Her friend Tonya chuckles silently, and Bridget sucks in her lips.

“Never heard of Targét; is it a new line?”

Targét, aka Target. Kenzie isn’t catching on, but everyone else is.

“So, are you a doctor or nurse, too?” Kenzie looks her up and down, sizing her up like women do to each other, and that’s enough for me.

“No, I’m a waitress, actually.”

The way Kenzie smiles at her is ugly, and if we were on land, I’d insist on putting her in a car and sending her on her way. Instead, I’m forced to play defense.

I take her elbow. “Kenzie, come meet Dr. and Mrs. Hugh?”

Thankfully, Kenzie is all about networking, and as soon as I introduce her to someone else, she takes it from there.

Longest forty minutes of my fucking life, I think as I stand here, pretending to listen to Dr. Buckman while looking over his head, shifting my gaze from the shore to Elizabeth then swinging it to monitor Kenzie, hoping she doesn’t come and find me again as he drones on and on about, of all things, testicular cancer, which does nothing but make my balls ache even worse.

While watching Elizabeth get piss drunk, I missed that Kenzie had as well, and because of that, I won’t be taking a car home. I’ll be driving her in hers.

The realization of how much worse that will look to Elizabeth than it already does and how much harder I’ll have to work to get back inside her pisses me off, but it can be a blessing in disguise.

This could never work, not with Elizabeth Bloom.

My aching balls agree, but the tightening in my chest surpasses the ache.

Still Thursday-ish

Lizzie

“I’m so, so, so, so sorry,” I say as I stumble out of the back of Simon and Bridget’s vehicle, Simon chuckling as he catches me from face-planting on my driveway.

“Just glad we were behind you when the Uber pulled over,” Bridget huffs as she hangs out the passenger window. “What an asshole.”

“I kind of don’t blame him. I puked in his Prius.”

“Puked in his Prius.” Bridget laughs so hard that she snorts. Apparently it’s contagious, because so do I.

“All right, Mrs. Hogue”— Simon chuckles— “lean back in so you don’t fall out while I help Lizzie to her door.”

“I’m totally fine,” I lie.

After looking out the window and seeing the little, red convertible number parked in Ethan’s driveway, I decide a good cry in the shower is on the menu,