Salt Spray and Sweet Trouble Ch. 02

Jack woke before sunrise, as always. The world was still, the water glassy and the sky was just beginning to lighten with the sun's rising. The Wandering Tide rocked gently in the shallows of the Marquesas.

For a long moment, Jack enjoyed the solitude and serene quiet. The air was cool, the scent of salt and mangroves lingered on a light breeze. He brewed coffee, checked the weather, and out on the deck watched the day come alive as he let himself believe--just for a moment--that the world was his again.

Then Cassie stirred below deck, and reality reasserted itself.

The first sign of her was a rustling sound. Then a muffled groan. Then a very distinct thump as she rolled--he assumed--straight off the berth onto the floor.

Jack took a slow sip of coffee. He gave it five seconds.

"... shit"

There it was.

Jack sighed. "You alive?"

More rustling. A dramatic groan. "Barely. What time is it?"

"Time for you to get up."

Cassie made a noise that could be interpreted as dismissive. "Five more minutes, Captain Sunshine."

Jack shook his head. He'd let her stay burrowed in blankets for now--better to enjoy the last of the peace before she stumbled onto deck, full of trouble.

By the time she emerged, hair wild and eyes still heavy with sleep, Jack had almost finished securing the deck for the day's sail. She padded up barefoot, yawning so wide it made him feel tired.

She stretched lazily, arms overhead, spine arching--her breasts pushed out and her tank top riding. Jack stared for half a second too long before looking away.

Cassie grinned, catching him. "Morning, Captain."

Jack, foolishly, thought he might get through breakfast in peace.

Soon enough she was munching on a piece of toast, cross-legged on the deck, when she slowly turned to Jack.

"The name of our boat, The Wandering Tide," she mused. "That's kinda poetic."

Jack, finishing his coffee, grunted in response. "It's not our boat. It's my boat."

Cassie waved her hand dismissively, completely unfazed. "Whatever." She chewed her toast thoughtfully crumbs collecting on her shirt. "But it feels like we could do better. Something with a little more personality."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "No."

Cassie grinned. "No, hear me out! What about something that really captures the spirit of our boat? You know, something that speaks to the moments you and I have shared on our boat together." Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she held his gaze using the toast in her hand to gesture between the two of them, making it abundantly clear exactly which "moment" she was referring to.

Jack's face reddened. "Cassie--"

Cassie tapped her chin, eyes dancing with mischief. "Ooh! What about The Oral Report?"

Jack choked on his coffee. "Jesus, Cassie."

"What? It has a nice ring to it."

"No."

Cassie ignored him, dramatically snapping her fingers. "Wait, wait, wait. What about... Knot Swallowing?"

Jack shook his head at her.

Cassie pouted. "Too subtle?"

Jack sighed. "I'm not renaming MY goddamn boat."

Cassie smirked. "Fine. How about Deep Throat Waters?"

Jack set his mug down hard.

"The Salty Seaman?"

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose.

Cassie bit her lower lip, barely containing her glee as inspiration struck. "The Swallow's Nest?"

Jack stood up and walked away.

Cassie, cocking an eyebrow, leaned in. "Come on, Admiral Grumpypants, you gotta admit that last one was good--"

Jack turned sharply. "We're not naming my boat after your mouth."

Cassie gasped, a hand over her chest. "Captain. That was filthy."

Jack leveled a flat look at her. "You started it."

Cassie, grinning wickedly, took one last exaggerated bite of her toast, her lips wrapping around it before chewing and brushing the crumbs from her breasts. "Did I?"

Jack exhaled sharply. Four more days.

"Alright," he said, deliberately changing the subject. "We're setting course for the Dry Tortugas today."

Cassie perked up. "That sounds exotic."

"It's a national park." Jack moved toward the helm. "We should make it by tomorrow."

Cassie stretched again, the movement doing nothing for Jack's concentration. "So, what do I do? Besides admiring the view, and adding charm to this cruise of course."

"You learn." Jack tossed her a coil of rope. "Starting with how to properly secure a line."

Cassie eyes lit up. "You're going to teach me? For real?"

Jack sighed. "I guess I haven't given up hope you might be useful while I'm stuck with you."

"Useful? Stuck?" Cassie repeated, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "I think I proved that I am neither last night."

Jack shot her a look that would have wilted anyone else. Cassie just grinned wider.

"Rope," he said firmly. "Focus."

Cassie gave him a mock salute, back straight, expression exaggeratedly serious. "Aye aye, Captain Tight-shorts of the USS No Blow Job Talk Allowed. Permission to handle your rope, sir?"

Jack spent the next hour running Cassie through the fundamentals of handling a sailboat this size--or at least, attempting to. He showed her how to tie a proper knot without creating a tangled mess, how to read the wind direction from the masthead, and how to steer without treating the wheel like a steering wheel on a bumper car. She was enthusiastic but terrible, her hands eager but imprecise, her attention span drifting with every passing bird.

She managed to jam a rope in a winch so badly that Jack almost had to cut it loose, badly misread the navigation screen, and the only time he ever even thought to let her take the wheel, she oversteered so wildly that the boat lurched hard enough to spill his coffee.

Jack ran a hand down his face. "Jesus. Have you ever driven anything before?"

Cassie grinned, unfazed. "Sure. But my last ride didn't fight back." She patted his arm sympathetically. "Don't worry, Commander Caffeine.'"

"Okay, okay," he gritted out, setting the autopilot so the boat wouldn't drift while he fixed her mistakes. "New rule: Stick to cleaning and maybe working on your tan or something."

Cassie wiped sweat from her brow with exaggerated drama. "I'm learning!"

"Yeah? Then learn this--when you adjust the sail, ease it in, don't just let it go. Unless you want to see how fast I can throw you overboard."

Cassie frowned at the ropes like they had betrayed her. "I thought you said this boat was designed for one person to handle?"

"It is," Jack muttered, double-checking that nothing was about to fly loose. "Which is exactly why I don't need someone actively making it harder."

Cassie saluted. "Aye, aye, Captain. Next time, I'll sink us efficiently."

Jack sighed, already regretting every life choice that had led to this moment.

By mid-morning, they were making good progress, the boat cutting smoothly through the Gulf waters. Jack had managed to keep Cassie occupied with basic tasks, though each one seemed to end in near-disaster. She'd somehow managed to spill half a container of fresh water all over herself--which might have been deliberate, given how she'd made a show of the wet fabric clinging to her chest.

By mid-afternoon, the wind had picked up, a steady breeze from the southeast that pushed them smoothly through the turquoise waters. Jack stood at the helm, one hand on the wheel, his eyes scanning the horizon.

Cassie sat nearby; her endless energy momentarily contained as she watched the clouds drift overhead. She'd been suspiciously well-behaved for almost an hour, which meant trouble was brewing. Jack could feel it as surely as he could read the water.

"So," she said, breaking the silence. "When do I get to do something important? You know, besides not breaking something?"

Jack glanced at her, then at the sails. The wind had shifted slightly, the telltales on the mainsail fluttering in a way that told him they needed adjustment. Perfect timing.

"You want to be useful? Come here." He gestured to the winch beside him. "Time you learned how to properly trim a sail."

Cassie perked up instantly, bouncing to her feet with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Finally! I was beginning to think you didn't trust me with the important stuff."

"I don't," Jack said flatly. "But you're here, and the sail needs trimming."

Cassie moved to stand beside him, her earlier languor replaced by genuine curiosity. "So, what's involved in this 'trimming' business? Sounds like a haircut for canvas."

Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Trimming is adjusting the sails to catch the wind most efficiently. See those little ribbons?" He pointed to the telltales fluttering along the luff of the mainsail. "They tell us how the wind is hitting the sail. Right now, they're fluttering too much on the leeward side."

"The what side now?" Cassie tilted her head, squinting up at the sail.

"Leeward. Away from the wind." Jack exhaled slowly, reminding himself that she hadn't grown up on boats like he had. "Look, there's windward--" he pointed to the direction the breeze was coming from, "--and leeward." He gestured to the opposite side.

"Oh, so the windy side and the less windy side," Cassie nodded, scrunching her nose. "Why not just say that?"

"Because we're on a sailboat, and sailboats have proper terminology," Jack said with strained patience.

"Windward, leeward," Cassie repeated, nodding too seriously. "So, we need to adjust the big flappy cloth thing based on those tiny flag thingies?"

"It's called a mainsail," Jack corrected, his eye developing a slight twitch. "And they're telltales, not flag thingies."

"Got it, Captain. Totally clear. Crystal clear. Clearer than these absolutely gorgeous waters." Her overly earnest expression made it obvious she was either only partly following or deliberately trying to drive him insane.

Jack sighed. "Just watch." He moved to the winch, demonstrating how to adjust the mainsheet. "When the telltales flutter too much, we need to trim in the sail. Too flat, and we ease it out." His hands moved with practiced efficiency, the winch clicking softly as he worked. "It's about finding the sweet spot where you get maximum power without stalling the sail."

Cassie watched his hands with surprising focus. "So, it's like... finding the perfect balance?"

Jack nodded, momentarily thrown by her apt description. "Exactly."

"Okay, let me try." She stepped closer, her shoulder brushing against his as she reached for the winch handle. The casual contact sent an unwelcome jolt through Jack's system. Reminding him of the warmth of her touch and last night's...

"Careful," he warned, his voice rougher than intended. "That winch has enough power to take your fingers off if you're careless."

Cassie shot him a look of offense. "Your faith in me is overwhelming."

"Just being realistic," Jack muttered. "Here, like this." He positioned himself behind her, his chest almost touching her back as he guided her hands to the proper position on the winch. The scent of coconut shampoo invaded his senses, making it harder to focus on the lesson.

"You want to keep tension on the line," he explained, his voice low near her ear. "One hand on the winch handle, the other controlling the line tension."

Cassie nodded, her body instinctively leaning back slightly, pressing against his chest. "Like this?" she asked, her voice deliberately innocent even as she shifted against him.

Jack cleared his throat, creating a small space between them. "Yeah. Now turn the handle clockwise--slowly."

She complied; her movements awkward at first as she struggled with the resistance. "It's harder than it looks," she admitted, genuine frustration creeping into her voice.

"Most things worth doing are," Jack found himself saying. "Keep going. You're looking for even flutter on both sides of the sail."

Cassie bit her lower lip in concentration, focusing on the task with uncharacteristic seriousness. The winch clicked steadily as she worked, her inexperienced hands gradually finding the rhythm. Jack watched the sail respond, the shape changing subtly with each adjustment.

"There," he said when the telltales began streaming properly. "Hold it there."

She beamed up at him, genuine pride lighting her features. "I, did it?"

Jack nodded, refusing to acknowledge the warm feeling her smile triggered. "You did. Now cleating the line--" he began, but Cassie was already reaching for the cleat with surprising confidence.

"Like this?" She wrapped the line around the cleat in a figure-eight pattern that was, while not perfect, surprisingly functional.

Jack blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Yeah. Where did you learn that?"

Cassie shrugged, a mysterious smile playing at her lips. "I've been paying attention."

Before Jack could respond, she turned her attention back to the sail. "So now what? Is there, like, a test to see if I did it right? Will the boat suddenly zoom forward at ludicrous speed?"

Jack snorted. "No. But you'll feel it in how she moves." He gestured for her to return to the helm. "Here. Take the wheel."

Cassie's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Seriously? You're letting me steer your precious boat?"

"Just for a minute," Jack said, fighting the impulse to take it back immediately. "And don't--"

"Crash into anything? Hit an iceberg? Steer us to Narnia?" Cassie grinned, moving to the wheel with exaggerated caution, as if approaching a sleeping tiger.

"There's nothing to hit for miles," Jack said dryly. "Just hold her steady on this heading." He pointed to the compass. "Two-seven-zero degrees."

Cassie wrapped her hands around the wheel, her posture shifting as she took up the responsibility. For a moment, she stood there silently, feeling the boat respond to her touch. Then a slow smile spread across her face--not her usual mischievous grin, but something quieter, more genuine.

"Oh," she breathed. "I can feel it."

Jack nodded, unexpectedly pleased by her reaction. "That's the sail doing its job. When it's trimmed right, everything just... works."

"It's like she's alive," Cassie murmured, her eyes bright with wonder. She adjusted her stance slightly, finding her balance as the boat moved beneath her.

Jack watched her, caught between attraction, annoyance, and something dangerously close to respect. For all her chaos and deliberate button-pushing, there were moments like this when she surprised him--when the performance dropped away and something real shone through.

"Not bad," he admitted grudgingly. "You might actually have a decent feel for it."

Cassie's eyes widened comically, her hand flying to her chest. "Hold everything. Was that almost praise from Captain Grumpy? Quick, someone check if hell's frozen over." She made a show of looking around the boat. "Should I write this down in the ship's log? Carve it into the deck? 'On this day, the Captain almost said something nice about my sailing skills.'"

"I said 'not bad,'" Jack clarified, fighting to keep his expression stern. "It's a long way from good."

"Too late," Cassie grinned, turning back to the wheel with renewed confidence. "I'm counting it as a win. Maybe there's hope for me yet."

"Keep your eyes on the heading." Jack countered, but there was no heat in it.

Cassie saluted dramatically with her free hand. "Aye aye, Captain Bringdown." But she turned her attention back to the compass, making small adjustments to maintain their course with surprising precision.

As Jack moved to check the jib, he noticed a subtle change in the air--a slight drop in pressure, a shift in the humidity that raised the fine hairs on his arms. He glanced toward the eastern horizon, where a faint darkening had begun to gather along the edge of the sky. Nothing immediate, but something to watch.

The wind shifted again, this time more noticeably. The telltales on the jib began to flutter erratically.

"We need to adjust again," Jack called, moving toward the headsail sheets. "The wind's backing."

"Backing? Is that bad? Is it something I did?" Cassie asked, her voice carrying a note of genuine concern.

"Not necessarily," Jack answered, though the sudden pressure change made him wary. "But it means the weather's shifting."

As if on cue, a distant rumble of thunder reached them, so faint it was barely audible over the sound of the hull cutting through water.

"Was that--" Cassie began.

"Thunder," Jack confirmed, scanning the horizon more intently now. The dark line along the eastern sky had definitely grown, rising upward in the telltale anvil shape of a building storm system.

"I thought the forecast was clear," Cassie said, her usual playfulness momentarily subdued.

Jack moved to take back the wheel, his hand brushing hers as he did. "Out here, forecasts are just educated guesses. The sea has its own ideas." He checked the barometer mounted near the helm, noting the subtle but steady drop in pressure. "We might have some weather coming our way."

"Weather," Cassie repeated flatly. "You mean like, a little rain, or...?"

"Could be nothing," Jack said, not wanting to alarm her unnecessarily. "Could be a squall. We'll keep an eye on it."

"A squall," Cassie repeated. "Is that like a storm's angry cousin?"

Despite the situation, Jack couldn't help the slight twitch of his lips. "Something like that."

Cassie glanced toward the darkening horizon, her earlier confidence wavering. For the first time since she'd emerged from his storage cabinet, Jack caught a glimpse of genuine uncertainty beneath her carefully constructed bravado.

"Hey," he said, his voice gentler than intended. "We've got plenty of time to prepare if it turns into something. And the boat's solid."

Cassie nodded, visibly rallying. "Well, good thing you have an expert sail-trimmer on board now." She gestured to herself with exaggerated pride. "Between your stern grumpy experience and my natural talent, what could possibly go wrong?"

Jack shook his head, but couldn't entirely suppress the slight curl of his lips. "Don't push your luck."

"Too late for that, Captain," she replied with a wink. "Remember that time I stowed away on your boat? I've been pushing my luck this entire time, so stopping would be bad."

Our boat, Jack mentally corrected her statement before catching himself with a jolt of alarm. Christ. When had he started thinking of it that way? He turned his attention firmly to the sails, refusing to examine that dangerous thought too closely.

Behind them, the storm continued to build, its dark mass rising steadily against the afternoon sky.

"So," she said, plopping down beside him as he took the helm, "what's the story with you and this boat?"

Jack kept his eyes on the horizon. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, most guys your age aren't living alone on boats in the middle of nowhere. There's usually a reason." She tilted her head. "And this boat--she has character. History. You didn't just buy her on a whim."

Jack was quiet for a moment, considering how much to share. Cassie waited, not pushing for once, her expression genuinely curious rather than teasing.

"My grandfather taught me to sail," he said finally. "Nothing fancy--just a little Sunfish on a lake near our house. Couldn't have been more than eight years old."

Cassie smiled. "So, you were a sailing prodigy from the start?"

Jack snorted. "Hardly. I capsized that thing more times than I can count. But my grandfather..." He paused, a distant look in his eyes. "He had endless patience. Never got frustrated, even when I got us stuck on the shore three times in one afternoon."

"He sounds wonderful," Cassie said softly. Then a mischievous smile played at her lips. "So that's where all the patience in your family went, huh? Used it all up on little Jack, leaving none for you to use on me."

Jack's smile faltered, her words landing with unexpected weight. For a moment, he saw himself through her eyes--the sharp contrast between the patient man who'd taught him and the irritable captain he'd become. He opened his mouth, then closed it, momentarily at a loss.

"There's a difference," he finally managed, his voice rougher than intended. "I was eight. You're--"

"Equally charming and disaster-prone?" Cassie suggested, batting her eyelashes dramatically, though she'd clearly noticed the shift in his demeanor.

Jack shook his head, but couldn't entirely hide the twitch of his lips, even as part of him remained caught on her observation. "Not the words I'd choose."

"Endearing? Delightful? A joy to teach?"

"Impossible," Jack corrected, but his tone had softened.

Cassie grinned triumphantly. "Your grandfather would have loved me."

The truth of that statement caught Jack off guard. His grandfather probably would have found Cassie's determination and unflagging enthusiasm endearing, just as he had with Jack all those years ago.

Jack nodded. "Best memories I have as a kid, just me and him on that lake. He'd pack these terrible sandwiches--bologna and American cheese that got soggy in the cooler. I'd still eat every bite."

Cassie drew her knees up to her chest, settling in. "So, how'd you go from lake sailing to..." She gestured around them. "All this?"

Jack's hand ran along the polished teak railing. "Found her about four years ago. Listing online, owner wanted to unload her fast. She was in rough shape--needed new electronics, deck was water-damaged, cabin had seen better days."

"But you saw something in her," Cassie prompted. Cassie was still looking at Jack, but something vulnerable flickering behind her eyes. "Not everyone would have seen what was underneath." She paused, her voice growing quieter. "Most people just walk away when something seems too broken."

Her eyes suddenly glistened, and she turned her face toward the horizon, blinking rapidly. The unexpected emotion surprised them both. She cleared her throat and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly trying to reclaim her usual bravado.

Jack felt a tightness in his chest at the glimpse of raw feeling she'd inadvertently revealed--a crack in her carefully maintained facade.

"So, you just... bought a broken-down boat and decided to live on it?" Cassie asked, her voice steady once more.

"Pretty much. Spent eight months restoring her. Learned as I went--plumbing, electrical, all of it. Some days I wondered what the hell I was thinking."

Cassie studied him. "It wasn't just about the boat though, was it?"

Jack looked out at the horizon, silent for a long moment. The question hung between them, deceptively simple but cutting straight to a truth he rarely acknowledged, even to himself. His instinct was to deflect, to guard the vulnerable parts of himself he'd worked so hard to protect. But something in her eyes--and the rare glimpse of real emotion she'd just shown him--made it feel strangely safe to offer a piece of himself in return.

"No," he admitted finally, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. "I guess I was as broken down as she was. Needed rebuilding. Both of us."

The words hung in the air between them, Jack surprised by his own candor. He hadn't meant to say that much--hadn't admitted it to anyone. Maybe not even to himself until now.

Cassie nodded, not pushing further. Instead, she asked, "What was she called before The Wandering Tide?"

"Second Chance," Jack said with a slight grimace. "First thing I changed."

Cassie laughed. "Yeah, too on the nose?"

"Way too on the nose."

She ran her fingers along the polished wood of the deck. "She's beautiful now. You did an amazing job."

The simple compliment felt more genuine than any of her flirtations. Jack found himself oddly touched by it.

"What was your first trip on her?" Cassie asked.

"Down to the Keys," Jack said. "Just a short run to test everything out. Never went back to land after that."

Cassie traced her fingers along the polished wood. "Do you think about your grandfather when you're out here? Feel connected to him through sailing?"

A shadow crossed Jack's face, but there was warmth there too. "Every day. He would've liked this boat," Jack said quietly. "Would've given me hell about some of my rigging choices, but he would've approved."

"So," she said after a moment, her usual mischievous smile returning, though softer now. "What's the farthest you've taken her?"

Jack welcomed the shift back to safer ground. "Cuba once. Down to Honduras another time."

"Seriously?" Cassie's eyes widened with genuine interest. "What was that like?"

And just like that, they fell into an easy conversation about his travels, Cassie asking thoughtful questions about places he'd seen, storms he'd weathered, nights anchored in secluded bays under star-filled skies. She listened intently; her usual teasing replaced by real curiosity.

Jack found himself talking more than he had in months, sharing stories he'd almost forgotten. It was... nice. Comfortable in a way he hadn't expected.

It was only when she eventually asked about what had made him leave his life on land that he felt the familiar walls rising again.

"We're talking about boats, not me," he deflected, his voice cooling noticeably. "I think that's enough story time for today."

Cassie studied him for a moment, her usual playfulness dimming. "Fair enough. I get it." Her fingers absently traced the small music note tattoo on her wrist--a gesture Jack had noticed she made when her guard dropped.

"That tattoo," Jack said, seizing the opportunity to turn the tables. "It means something?"

She immediately covered it with her other hand, something guarded flickering across her face. "Just a reminder of a different life." Her tone was deliberately casual, but lacked its usual carefree lilt.

"Must have been some life," Jack observed, nodding toward her hand still covering the ink.

Cassie's smile returned, but didn't quite reach her eyes. "We all have our stories, Captain. Some are just better left untold." She looked out at the water, a flash of something genuine crossing her face. "Let's just say not all dreams work out the way you plan."

"Yeah, I don't think many people dream about stowing away on a boat." The skepticism in his voice was clear.

The unexpected quip broke the tension, bringing a more genuine smile to Cassie's face. She seemed almost grateful for the lifeline back to their usual banter.

"Oh, Captain," she said, her bravado sliding back into place like armor. "There's a lot more to that story than you're ready for." She stretched languidly, deliberately changing the subject. "Besides, this has been working out pretty well so far, wouldn't you say? The adventure of a lifetime."

The dying sunlight caught her profile, illuminating the fine arch of her cheekbones and turning her tangled hair into a halo of gold and amber. For a moment, Jack couldn't look away. There was something about her in this light--vulnerable one moment, fearless the next--that stirred an emotion he wasn't ready to name. She wasn't just attractive in the obvious ways he'd been trying to ignore; there was something magnetic about her resilience, something compelling in how quickly she could rebuild her walls after letting him glimpse what lay beyond them.

"For who?" Jack countered, but found himself fighting a reluctant smile.

Jack gave her a level look, waiting. The boat rocked gently beneath them; the sails full in the afternoon breeze.

Cassie looked out at the water, her usual composure fading slightly. "I grew up in a small town in Indiana," she offered unexpectedly. "I did normal kid things, played in the band, sang in the choir, did pretty well on the swim team."

"That explains why you're comfortable in the water," Jack said. "And why you've never been on a sailboat."

"Where I'm from, boats are for rich people," she said with a shrug. "We didn't have that kind of money." A genuine smile crossed her face. "Music and swimming were the only things that kept me sane through those years."

"You were good?" Jack asked.

"Good enough for state finals," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Made it to sixth place in the 200 IM my senior year."

"Individual Medley," Jack nodded. "So, you're good at everything, but master of none?" There was a teasing quality to his voice.

Cassie grinned. "I prefer 'adaptable.' Comes in handy when you find yourself on strange boats with grumpy captains."

"Not good enough for a scholarship, but..." She trailed off with another shrug.

Jack nodded, letting her continue.

"After high school, I moved to Nashville." Her fingers absently traced the music note tattoo on her wrist. "Had some big dreams. Turns out dreams and reality don't always match up."

"And now?" Jack asked, genuinely curious.

Cassie automatically covered it with her other hand. "Yeah, well. That's a story for another time."

The deflection was obvious, but Jack didn't push. He recognized the look of someone who wasn't ready to share their wounds.

"You know," Cassie said, her voice dropping to something softer, "it's okay to admit you don't mind having me around. I won't be offended"

Jack exhaled. "I mind."

Cassie laughed. "Liar."

As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, Jack started guiding the boat to a protected spot where they could anchor for the night. The day's sailing had been productive.

"Ready to drop anchor?" Jack called.

Cassie nodded eagerly, moving to the bow with more confidence than she'd shown that morning. He watched as she prepared the anchor, waiting for his signal. When Jack gave the nod, she released it more smoothly than he expected, though she still managed to almost tangle her foot in the slack line, nearly pitching herself overboard in the process.

"Well," she said, regaining her balance with eyes a little too wide but with a grin, "I didn't fall in, so that's progress!"

Jack shook his head but couldn't completely hide his amusement. "Small victories."

With the boat secured for the evening, they moved into a familiar rhythm--Jack preparing a simple dinner while Cassie set up their makeshift dining area on deck. The evening was warm, the sky painted in deepening shades of orange and purple as the sun dipped lower.

"I think I'm getting better at this whole sailing thing," Cassie announced as she arranged their plates.

Jack emerged from below deck carrying their meal--grilled fish and vegetables. "You nearly dropped my navigation equipment overboard."

"But I didn't!" Cassie protested, waving her fork at him. "That's the important part."

"You tangled every line you touched, knocked over the water container, and somehow managed to misread every navigation reading three times."

Cassie's face fell slightly. "Okay, so I'm not exactly sailor of the year material yet."

Jack studied her for a moment. "But you didn't quit."

She looked up, surprised by what sounded almost like a compliment.

"Most people would have given up after the first dozen or so disasters," Jack continued, his voice gruff but honest. "You kept trying. It's... admirable. Stupid, maybe, but admirable."

Cassie's smile returned, brighter than before. "Wait, did the grumpy Captain just pay me another compliment? I might need to record this historic moment."

Jack rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. "Don't get used to it."

"Too late," Cassie said triumphantly. "I'm noting this in my diary: 'Day three--The Captain finally admitted I'm not completely terrible.'"

"That's not what I said."

"It's what you meant," she countered, taking a bite of fish with a satisfied smile. "You know, the Captain from two days ago wouldn't have been nearly this nice."

Jack looked away, uncomfortable with how accurate her observation was. "Eat your dinner."

Cassie laughed but complied, and they fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence as they ate, watching the last light fade from the sky. Stars began appearing overhead, a scattering at first, then more and more until the night was alive with them.

Jack found himself studying Cassie's profile as she gazed upward, her usual sharp edges softened in the fading light. For all her chaos and disruption, there was something about her that was becoming... familiar. Not unwelcome, exactly, which was a troubling realization.

A sudden change in the air drew Jack's attention. He turned toward the eastern horizon. What had been a distant formation was now a massive wall of darkness, approaching much faster than he'd calculated. The barometer must have dropped significantly in just the last hour.

"What is it?" Cassie asked, following his gaze.

"Storm's picked up speed," he said, already rising to gather their plates. "The one I noticed earlier."

"I thought you said it might miss us," Cassie said, helping to clear the table with unusual efficiency.

"Looks like it had other ideas." Jack studied the approaching lightning, mentally calculating how much time they had. "We need to secure everything topside."

"Topside?" Cassie asked. "That's the uppy part, right?"

Jack shot her a look. "Yes, Cassie. The 'uppy part.' The deck."

"Just checking." She grinned, but there was genuine concern beneath her teasing. "How bad?"

Jack assessed the rapidly darkening sky. "Could be nothing. Could be trouble."

Jack sighed. "Just... help me gather everything below."

Cassie's expression shifted from relaxed to alert.

Before Jack could elaborate, a strong gust swept across the boat, shaking the rigging and making glasses rattle below. Cassie grabbed his arm instinctively.

"Shit!" She steadied herself as her hair whipped around her face. "Is that normal?"

Jack frowned at the distant horizon. The weather report hadn't mentioned a storm, but out here, things changed quickly.

"Storm is here sooner than I expected"

Cassie's eyes widened. "Like, a serious storm? Like, movie-disaster-boats-sinking storm?"

"Just a squall," Jack assured her, though he wasn't entirely sure. The clouds were moving unnervingly fast, the wind shifting direction. "But we need to prepare."

For once, Cassie didn't argue or make jokes. She followed his lead, her movements earnest as they worked to prepare the boat. The wind picked up with each passing minute, the waves growing choppier, the boat starting to rock harder beneath their feet.

Despite her inexperience, Cassie did her best, following Jack's instructions with surprising focus. She wasn't panicking, which was more than he could say for most beginners facing their first storm at sea.

"Is that good?" she called over the rising wind, pointing to a line she'd secured to a cleat.

Jack checked it quickly. "Yeah. Good enough." He glanced at the sky again. "Let's get below deck. This is gonna hit harder than I thought."

Cassie nodded, following him down the hatch just as the first heavy raindrops began to fall. The cabin air thick with humidity and tension.

Jack moved efficiently, securing loose items, checking the cabin windows were locked tight. Cassie hovered nearby, unsure but watchful.

"So," she said, attempting casual, "on a scale of 'mild inconvenience' to 'The Perfect Storm,' where are we at?"

Jack snorted. "Somewhere around 'uncomfortable evening.'"

"Oh." Cassie nodded, visibly relieved. "That's... good." She glanced at the porthole where rain was beginning to streak the glass. "You know, you didn't fully close the jib sheet cleat on the starboard side. I took care of it before it could come loose."

Jack froze, staring at her. "What did you just say?"

"The jib sheet cleat. On starboard." Cassie met his gaze with perfect innocence. "Should I have called it the rope-holder-thingy on the right-hand side instead?"

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You've been messing with me this whole time."

Cassie's innocent expression melted into a mischievous grin.

"Unbelievable," Jack muttered, but there was a reluctant admiration beneath his exasperation. "So, you actually were paying attention to my lessons?"

"Of course I was," she said, looking almost offended. "I'm living on a boat. Seems like knowing port from starboard might come in handy." She winked. "Plus, you get all commander-y when you're explaining things. It's kind of hot."

Jack felt his face heating despite the cooling air of the approaching storm.

A crack of thunder shook the boat, making her jump. "Jesus!"

Jack turned to find her wide-eyed, one hand pressed against her chest. For once, she didn't look mischievous or seductive. She looked genuinely startled.

It was the one of the most authentic times he'd seen her.

"You okay?" he asked.

Cassie laughed; the sound slightly higher than normal. "Yep! Totally fine. Love thunder. Big fan."

Jack couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "It's just noise. Boat's solid."

Cassie nodded rapidly. "Right. Yes. Solid boat. Great boat. The Wandering Tide is totally stormproof, right?"

"More or less." He glanced at her tense posture. "You can sit down, you know."

Cassie hesitated, then dropped onto the bench seat, hugging herself with her arms. The boat lurched with a particularly strong wave, and she gripped the edge of the seat, knuckles whitening.

Another flash of lightning, another crash of thunder--this one closer. Cassie flinched.

Jack moved to the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of rum. "Here." He poured a generous amount into a glass and handed it to her. "It helps."

Cassie took it gratefully, taking a long swallow. She coughed, eyes watering. "Smooth."

Jack snorted and poured himself an equally generous amount. After a moment's consideration, he reached beneath the navigation table and retrieved a small weathered portable speaker. He connected his phone, scrolling through a playlist.

"Music helps," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Gives you something else to focus on besides the storm."

He selected something with a steady rhythm--classic rock with familiar guitar riffs filling the cabin. Jack noticed Cassie's fingers unconsciously tapping against her glass in time with the beat, a small smile replacing her nervous expression.

"Wouldn't have figured you for a Zeppelin fan," he commented, watching her reaction with mild surprise.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Captain," she replied, her usual spark returning momentarily.

The boat rocked harder, the storm intensifying outside. Rain hammered against the deck, the wind howling through the rigging. But the music filled the cabin, creating a small pocket of normalcy amid the chaos.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the interplay between the storm's rage and the steady beat of the music. Cassie sipped her drink, her posture gradually relaxing as the alcohol took effect and her attention shifted from the frightening sounds outside to the familiar comfort of the music.

"I've never been in a storm at sea before," she admitted finally.

"I figured."

She gave him a small smile. "That obvious?"

"You hide it well enough." Jack leaned back. "But yeah."

Cassie took another sip of her drink. "Been through worse?"

Jack nodded. "Much worse."

"Like what?"

Jack hesitated. He wasn't one for stories, especially not about himself. But the storm was going to keep them down here for a while, and Cassie's questions kept her from focusing on the weather.

"Caught in a nor'easter once, off Cape Hatteras," he said finally. "Three days of hell. Thought I was done for."

Cassie's eyes widened. "Seriously? What happened?"

Jack shrugged. "Rode it out. Not much else you can do."

"Alone?"

He nodded.

Cassie studied him, something soft in her expression. "That must have been terrifying."

Jack took a sip of his drink. "It was."

"But you kept sailing."

"I did."

Cassie tilted her head. "Why?"

Jack met her gaze. "Because I'd rather face honest danger out here on the ocean than comfortable lies back on land."

Something shifted in Cassie's eyes--recognition, maybe. Understanding. Her breath caught for a moment, as if his words had touched a raw nerve. She looked away first, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass, her posture changing almost imperceptibly. The music note tattoo on her wrist seemed to stand out suddenly against her skin, a reminder of whatever truths she was running from.

"I get that," she said softly, the usual playfulness absent from her voice. "More than you know."

Jack watched her, not the playful seductress, not the chaos agent determined to drive him insane. Just Cassie--young, running from something, putting on a brave face. In that moment, the storm outside seemed less significant than the one he glimpsed behind her eyes.

The boat lurched suddenly, a particularly violent wave sending Cassie toppling forward. Jack caught her instinctively, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other bracing against the bulkhead to keep them both upright. She crashed against his chest, her body warm and solid against his.

For a heartbeat, they stayed frozen--her face inches from his, her eyes wide with surprise, her fingers clutching his shirt. The boat settled, but neither moved.

"Sorry," she whispered, but didn't pull away. The usual calculation in her eyes was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded. "Guess I'm not much of a sailor after all."

Jack knew he should let her go. Set her back on the bench. Maintain the careful distance he'd been fighting to preserve since she'd emerged from his storage cabinet with that damned troublemaker smile. Every instinct honed through years of solitude screamed at him to put space between them.

But her pulse hammered against his palm where it rested at her waist. Her breath came quick and shallow, warming his skin. And for once, there was no performance in her expression--just Cassie, vulnerable and real.

"Jack," she said softly.

The sound of it--just his name--cracked something open inside him that he'd been keeping sealed tight. Four days of resisting her provocations, her deliberate touches, her calculated chaos. Four days of pretending he didn't notice the way she moved, the way she watched him, the way she fit into spaces in his life he hadn't realized were empty.

"Cassie--" His voice was rough, a warning or a plea, he wasn't sure which.

She touched his face, her fingers tracing his jawline with unexpected gentleness. "Stop thinking so hard," she murmured. "Just for tonight."

When her lips met his, it wasn't the bold, demanding kiss he might have expected from her. It was softer, almost hesitant--a question rather than a declaration. And it was that unexpected gentleness that finally shattered his resolve.

His control, maintained through years of discipline, crumbled like sand against the tide.

The rest of his words disappeared as she closed the distance between them, her lips pressing against his with unexpected gentleness. It wasn't the teasing, provocative Cassie he'd come to expect. This was something else--something real.

For one heartbeat, he didn't move. Then his control snapped.

Jack's hands flew to her waist, gripping hard as he deepened the kiss. Cassie made a soft sound against his mouth, her body melting into his. He tasted rum on her lips, felt the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt.

The storm crashed around them, the boat rocking wildly, but all Jack could focus on was Cassie--the way she moved against him, the soft sounds she made as his hands slid under her shirt, the heat of her skin beneath his palms.

"I've wanted you to do this since I saw you," she breathed against his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Jack growled, pulling her fully onto his lap. "You're trouble."

Cassie grinned against his lips. "You like it."

He did. God help him, he did.

His hands were everywhere, finally claiming the curves he'd been pretending not to notice for days--tracing the soft swell of her breasts, his thumb brushing over a hardened peak, savoring the way she gasped at his touch. She was all heat and silk beneath his fingers, her body arching as if she'd been waiting just as long for this moment as he had. Cassie met his hunger with her own, her fingers tugging at his shirt, her body pressing against his with deliberate friction, winding him tighter, forcing a low growl from his throat.

Thunder rumbled overhead, but the storm inside the cabin was louder. Lightning flashed through the porthole, briefly illuminating Cassie's flushed skin, her wild blond hair, the open invitation in her striking blue eyes. The electricity in the air had nothing on the charge between them.

Jack stood abruptly, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. Cassie's legs locked around his waist, her arms coiled around his neck, and the heat of her body burned through his skin. They collapsed in a tangled mess of limbs, hands seeking, mouths devouring, their urgency matching the chaotic rhythm of the storm outside.

Clothes vanished in frantic movements, tossed aside and forgotten. Jack didn't think, didn't analyze--he just felt. Cassie's skin, fever-warm against his, the scrape of her nails down his back, the way her breath hitched as his mouth found her throat, her collarbone, lower. He wanted to drown in her, in this, in the storm they were unleashing together.

"Jack--" she gasped as his lips closed around her nipple, teasing it into a tight peak with his tongue. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "Please--"

He didn't make her wait. He couldn't. His hand slid between her thighs, finding her already slick, already desperate. Cassie's head fell back against the pillow, her body arching against him as he traced slow, lazy circles, his fingers teasing her entrance but not pushing inside just yet.

She whimpered, her hips shifting, chasing his touch. "You bastard," she breathed, half laughing, half pleading. "You're doing it on purpose."

Jack smirked against her skin, his lips trailing lower, his fingers pressing just enough to make her gasp but still denying her what she wanted. "Maybe."

Lightning streaked across the sky. The moment it flashed, Jack pushed two fingers into her, sinking deep, swallowing her moan with a rough kiss. Cassie clenched around him, her thighs tightening at the sudden fullness, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

"Fuck--" Her breath stuttered, her hips desperately rolling against his hand. "Yes, just like that--"

He watched her face, mesmerized. No games, no teasing--just raw, unfiltered pleasure. She was stunning like this, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, lost in the sensations he was dragging from her body.

Jack curled his fingers, finding the spot that made her cry out. He stroked it mercilessly, letting the rhythm of the rocking boat drive his pace. The storm made the walls groan, the waves a steady, punishing pulse beneath them. Cassie matched it, her body moving instinctively, her moans growing higher, tighter--

Her breath hitched. "Jack, I--"

"Let go."

The command sent her over. She shattered, body seizing around his fingers, pleasure crashing through her like the storm outside. Jack held her through it, kissing her neck, her shoulder, feeling the aftershocks ripple through her as she gasped for breath.

Cassie's eyes fluttered open, dark with lingering hunger. "Inside me," she demanded, still trembling. "Now."

Jack barely managed to align himself before she grabbed his hips and pulled him in. He surged forward, sinking into her in one smooth thrust, groaning as she clenched around him, hot and tight and perfect. He felt like he was being swallowed whole, wrapped in liquid heat, her body drawing him in like she'd been made for him.

Jack barely recognized the sound that escaped him as he thrust forward, sinking into her impossible heat. Too tight. Too perfect. His body tensed against the overwhelming rush of sensation, his instincts screaming at him to take, to claim.

His hands tightened on her hips; his grip hard as he tried to hold himself back. Slow down. Savor it. But Jesus, she felt too good--too wet, too hot, too fucking right. His self-control, carefully honed over years at sea, was unraveling by the second.

Cassie arched beneath him, her breath catching as he filled her. "God, Jack--" Her nails dragged down his back, making his muscles twitch. "I've been wanting this--wanting you--for days."

That shattered what little restraint he had left.

Jack pulled back and slammed into her, hard enough to knock a gasp from her lips. His body moved on instinct now, years of discipline collapsing under raw, unfiltered need. He groaned, the weight of her, the tight squeeze of her walls around him, the frantic way her legs locked around his waist--all of it was too much.

Cassie moaned like she was breaking apart beneath him. "Yes--fuck--harder--"

Jack bit out a curse, snapping his hips forward, giving her exactly what she begged for.

Cassie gasped and he stilled for half a second, just long enough to meet her gaze, to see the desperation and hunger flickering beneath the unrelenting fire in her expression.

"Jesus, Cass," he muttered, voice thick with raw need. "You feel so fucking good. So tight."

She whimpered, rolling her hips up to take him deeper. "God, Jack--You--" She broke off in a moan as he thrust again, slow and deep, stretching her in a way that made her shudder. "You're filling me up so perfectly--fuck."

Jack groaned at her words, gripping her thighs as he pulled back and drove into her again, harder this time, rewarded by her breathless cry. "Missed this," he admitted, voice strained, his forehead pressing against hers. "It's been too damn long, and you--" He kissed her hard, swallowing her moan. "You're fucking perfect."

Cassie's hands roamed his back, her nails scoring his skin as he set a relentless pace, each thrust deep and punishing, every movement fueled by pent-up frustration, by need, by the days they'd spent circling each other, torturing themselves with tension. Her breasts bounced with every impact, nipples hard and sensitive against his chest, making him growl as he latched onto one, sucking it deep into his mouth.

"Fuck, Jack--" Cassie's fingers tangled in his hair, her body tightening, her legs locking around his waist to pull him even deeper. "God, yes--just like that--"

He watched her, transfixed by the way she fell apart beneath him, her blond hair fanning across the pillow, blue eyes blown wide, utterly lost in pleasure. She was stunning like this, uninhibited, wrecked, his name falling from her lips like a prayer.

Jack gritted his teeth. Christ, he was already coming undone himself. The way she squeezed him, the way she begged for more-- he wasn't going to last.

Cassie tensed beneath him, her body tightening, and Jack knew she was close. He shifted, angling his hips, driving into her just right--

Cassie was right there, trembling beneath him, her body tightening around his cock, a perfect, wet vice pulling him deeper.

Her moans turned into frantic whimpers. "Jack--I--fuck--"

Jack could feel it--the way she fluttered, spasming around him, her whole-body tensing. He gritted his teeth, holding on by a thread.

"Come for me, Cass," he growled, driving deep. "Let me feel it."

She came hard, back arching, nails raking over his shoulders as her walls clenched down around him like a fucking vice. A broken moan tore from her throat, raw and desperate.

That did it.

Jack cursed, burying himself to the hilt as he followed her over the edge, pleasure hitting like a lightning strike. His entire body tensed, his hips stuttering, his release surging into her in hot, pulsing waves.

He groaned into her neck, panting, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm still milking him, pulling him deeper even when there was nothing left to give. Cassie clung to him, breathless, body still shuddering with the remnants of pleasure.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then Jack rolled to his back, pulling her with him. Cassie settled against his side, her arm draped across his chest, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder. His world had narrowed to the weight of her against him, the silk of her hair between his fingers, the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his. His body felt weightless, muscles loose and heavy all at once.

Her breath warmed his skin as they lay tangled together, lost in the aftermath of passion, oblivious to anything beyond their shared breath and racing hearts. Neither spoke, as if words might shatter whatever fragile thing had just formed between them. The narrow bunk cradled them, the sheets twisted and damp beneath their cooling bodies.

It was Cassie who finally noticed. "Listen," she whispered, lifting her head slightly.

Jack focused beyond the sound of their breathing for the first time. The violent hammering against the deck had softened to a gentle patter. The howling wind had calmed to a whisper. The thunder, which had crashed directly overhead during their most passionate moments, now rumbled distantly, like an afterthought.

"Storm's passing," he murmured, his voice rough.

Cassie made a soft sound of acknowledgment, settling back against him. Jack felt her body grow heavier against his, her breathing gradually slowing and deepening. He looked down to find her eyelids fluttering closed, the adrenaline of both the storm and their passionate encounter finally giving way to exhaustion.

Within minutes, she was asleep against him. The emergency lantern cast a soft glow across her features. Her hair fell in wild tangles around her shoulders, and Jack found himself reaching up to brush a strand from her face to see her more clearly before he could stop himself.

The thunder had moved further away now, but its rumble still echoed across the water, matching the tumult in Jack's chest. Cassie's breathing had grown steady beside him, her face peaceful in a way he rarely saw when she was awake and plotting his insanity.

Jack exhaled, running a hand down Cassie's back, her skin warm beneath his fingers. A storm inside and out. He caught the thought too late--and crushed it before it could take root.

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Thanks again for making it through chapter 2. If you thought of a name for the boat Cassie should have used I would love to hear from you.