Hot Sauce (Suncoast Society #26)(61)

She hung up and tipped her head over onto his shoulder.

“Sorry I scared you today, baby,” he said.

Again.

It had to be the twentieth or thirtieth time he’d apologized.

That was, in between him calling around and finding another guide who would take his charter passengers out tomorrow on their boat, and then letting the passengers know and hooking them up with the guy. He’d also called his passengers from that morning, confirmed they’d gotten home safely, and assured them he was okay. When he offered to give them a partial refund for the day, they’d declined, saying the excitement had been worth it, especially knowing that he was going to be okay.

She plucked at the front of his hospital gown. “I’m taking off Monday to drive you to the doctor.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Did I ask you?”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Sir,” she added, her voice shrinking, tiny.

He chuckled. “Boy, you weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t sure if you could be a submissive, were you?”

She rested her palm against his chest, feeling his heart beating, strong, steady. “No, Sir. Remember, that’s why you guys agreed on Sirs and baby girl.”

“Yes, I know.” He let out a sigh. “I managed to f*ck this weekend up all to hell in more ways than one. I wonder how much this will cost me in copays.”

Her phone rang.

Tilly.

“Uh oh.” She shoved it at him. “Nope-ity nope nope from Nopesville, Nopestan, zip code nope-nope-nope-nope-nope. You can’t make me answer it.”

He smiled, taking the phone from her. “We warned you about her, but noooo. You thought she was all sweetness and kittens and rainbows and shit.” He hit the speaker button. “Yeeesss?”

Tilly paused. “Reed?”

“That’s me.”

“So…are you guys by any chance making dinner tonight?”

“Um, probably not. Something came up, unfortunately.”

Tilly cleared her throat. “Did I just hear correctly something about you getting your ass plucked off a goddamned boat by the f*ckin’ Coasties this afternoon?”

“Um, you heard right.”

“And where, pray tell, are you right now?”

“Snuggled in a hospital bed built for one with my sweetie girl at Bayfront.”

Tilly swore. “Why the f*ck didn’t someone call me?”

Even a little woozy, he still sounded Sir-ish. “For the same reason she didn’t call Jenny when it happened, because she didn’t have cell service and she was more worried about getting up here to me than calling anyone. She didn’t talk to Lyle until she got here. Poor guy heard ‘hospital’ and ‘Coast Guard airlifted’ and she was in an elevator and the call cut out on him. He nearly had a heart attack before he got her on the phone again.”

Tilly snorted. “Cool. Okay. So what’s the 411, son?” He filled her in, prompting another snort. “Duuude. You got airlifted for a bum gallbladder. Nice.”

“It’s not funny. I feel horrible about scaring everyone, and that the Coast Guard flew out to get me.”

“Just be grateful it’s our tax dollars paying that tab, buster. That’s something like $1,500 an hour or some shit like that to run a chopper.”

“The nurse did say,” Vanessa spoke up, “that a lot of people rightfully mistake a gallbladder attack for a heart attack. And that it’s better to mistake a gallbladder attack for a heart attack than the other way around.”

“Eh, true,” Tilly agreed. “She—or he—is right on that account. And in all seriousness, I’m glad it’s not more serious. Sucks you need surgery, but still. And good on ya, Nessie, for remembering the aspirin. People forget that shit. That can really help sometimes.”

“I know,” Reed said. “She did good.” He gently chucked her chin. “I’m really proud of her.”

Pleasant heat filled her.

“So,” Tilly said. “Give me some marching orders, dude. What do you need done?”

“Well, unless you have a captain’s license, which I know you don’t, not much. Lyle will be over here later tonight when he finishes in Orlando.”

“Wait, Nessie, are you good to drive?” Tilly asked. “You’ve got to be crashing after all of that.”

Actually, truth be told, she wasn’t sure. She looked at Reed, then shrugged. She’d let him make that call, either way. Her decision-making tank was now running on fumes.

“I don’t think she is, Til,” he said, still studying her. “If you wanted to have two people come up and meet Lyle here around nine, and one of them drive his car back for us, he can drive her and my truck home. That would be a help.” He leaned in and kissed Vanessa. “Or come up here early and bring me a pizza and visit for a while, if you want.”

“No pizza!” Vanessa loudly ordered. He’d been put on a bland diet.

He laughed. “Okay, bring dinner for my girl, please, and the pleasure of your delightful company.”

“Thank you,” she silently mouthed.

He smiled, nodding.

“Done and done. Abbey and Gilo stayed in tonight. I’m sure he’ll come up with me. If not him, someone will. I’ll be there in short order, with the short order.”