Risky Attraction Sneak Peek
Chapter one
“I hate you!” Scout yelled until the tendons in her neck bulged. “Scout, please,” I begged half-heartedly. I didn’t have the energy to continue the pointless argument anymore. Despite being just thirteen, my daughter already matched me in height and after flaring her green eyes at me, she spun away, stomped up the stairs from the galley, and disappeared through the hatchway onto the top deck of our sailing yacht. It wasn’t the first time my daughter had yelled that she hated me, but just like all the other times, I wished it would be her last. I opened a can of coconut milk and gently stirred the contents into the red curry paste, onions, ginger, and garlic, sizzling in the base of the heavy pot. My heart clenched over Scout’s anger and as I flicked away a tear, furious that she still evoked overwhelming sadness in me, I glided the wooden spoon around the pan. It had been eighteen months since my husband died and Scout still blamed me for her father’s death. His death wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Lewis died of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis and there was absolutely no explanation why an extremely fit thirty-six-year-old, football player, in the prime of his life succumbed to such a brutal incurable disease. Lewis and I had planned to do this trip around Australia as a family. |
But his diagnoses and the following eight months of hell that ended in his life being cut very short, crushed our dreams of sailing away together.
A brisk breeze blew into the cabin, and wiping a tear from my cheek, I shut the porthole over the sink. As Thai curry aromas filled the galley, I added, crunchy peanut butter. . . my secret ingredient, to the pot and stirred until it melted.
I had hoped that by dragging Scout away from our home where memories of the man we loved were everywhere, that her self-destructive habits and anger would abate. It had been three months since we left Perth and out here on the ocean, we were at the mercy of the currents and the crisp breezes. . . and I was at the mercy of Scout’s fiery personality.
Some days with my daughter were beautiful and memorable, and then there were days like today. . . where I couldn’t do or say anything right and I longed for the amazing family life we’d had before Lewis had been diagnosed.
Lewis had been the buffer between Scout and me. From the moment Scout had started school we clashed and she’d made it well known that she loved her father more than me. Maybe it was because Lewis had taught her fun things like sailing and fishing and how to kick a football, while I had to force her to do her homework and wash the dishes and remind her to look after herself all the damn time.
Being a mom was hard work.
Being a widow and a single Mom, when my daughter hated me for all the wrong reasons. . . that broke my soul.
As Dreamcatcher dipped and rocked with a wave, I added prawns and chunks of snapper to the simmering red curry and stirred the pot. I caught that fish earlier today. Catching fish in these abundant waters was easy, the hard part was landing them before the sharks got hold of the meal. I’d lost three decent sized fish before I’d caught the snapper simmering in the pan. From the oven, I pulled roasted pumpkin and added that to the pot, along with green beans and boiled carrots.
Mild Thai red curry was one of Scout’s favorite dishes. Not mine though. But that’s what I did as a mom. I sacrificed to make her happy. Fat lot of good that did.
Maybe this trip was a big mistake.
Maybe I should turn around, rather than finish the remaining six months circumnavigating Australia like I’d planned. No. . . like Lewis and I had planned.
Then again, this trip was nothing like we’d planned.
Not when he was dead, I was grieving, and Scout was making my days pure hell.
Sighing, I spooned cooked rice into two bowls, topped them with the seafood curry, and added a sprinkling of fried shallots we’d bought in bulk after we’d discovered them at a fun Asian food market in Darwin six weeks ago.
“Scout, dinner’s ready.”
“Go away.”
I groaned. I couldn’t go away even if I wanted to. We were sailing in the Coral Sea. . . a vast body of water off Australia’s North Queensland Coast. The nearest shore was thirty miles away.
“Scout. Come here, and help.”
“Fuck off.”
Clenching my jaw, I carried one bowl of food and cutlery up the galley stairs. At the top, moonlight danced off the ocean swell and I frowned at the black clouds on the horizon. They hadn’t been there when I stepped down into the cabin earlier to shower and make dinner.
Making a mental note to check the weather after we ate, I crossed the deck to teakwood-clad seating area at the aft, where we usually ate our meals together.
Scout was at the rear of the yacht, dangling her legs over the side. “Dinner’s ready.” I placed the plate onto the table.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I made your favorite red fish curry.”
“I said I’m not hungry! You never listen.”
“I am listening Scout, you’re yelling loud enough for everyone to hear.”
“There is no-one else Mom. You made fucking sure of that.”“Stop swearing at me.” I glared at her.
“Or what?” She turned to face me and in the moonlight, her squared out jaw reminded me so much of Lewis my heart sagged.
The tension between us hung heavy in the night air and the rhythmic creaking of the yacht’s rigging added to my mournful emotional state. Scout’s defiance cut deep. She would never talk to me like that if Lewis was here, and her anger added to my grief which was like an anchor dragging me into a bottomless ocean.
Waves lapped into Dreamcatcher’s side in a lovely symphony that was at odds with the turmoil tangling my thoughts. “Scout, please can we just have dinner together?”
“Oh my god. You don’t fucking listen. I. Am. Not. Hungry!” She spread her fingers like they were claws that she wanted to scratch down my face.
I heaved a breath. “Fine.” We’d had this argument over her not eating so many times it was almost comical. She’d dig her heals in, adamant that she wouldn’t eat, then come the middle of the night she’d wake me with her rummaging through the galley in search of food.
Our limited Tupperware supply got a constant workout with my meal leftovers.
Sitting at the table on cushions that I’d sewn by hand to custom fit the seating nook, I ate a forkful of curry.
I’d held back on the spicy paste to make the meal mild for Scout. Eating another mouthful, a wave of anger washed through me. The Thai curry was bland because of her.
Our argument was because of her.
Yet it was up to me to simmer her rage. It always was.
“Scout.”
“What?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, revealing a vulnerability behind her tough exterior.
“I know you miss your father. I do too. Every single day. Every hour of every day.”
“Then what the fuck are we doing out here, Mom. It’s not helping you. It sure as hell isn’t helping me. I hate it out here. I hate the ocean. I hate this stupid yacht. And I hate—” She sucked in a wobbly breath.
“I know. You hate me too. You told me.”
She glared at me, clenching her teeth so hard her head trembled. “I can’t pretend everything is fine like you do. You’re a liar.”
I put my fork down. My appetite had gone anyway. “I can assure you, Scout, I don’t think everything is fine. I miss your father more than you will ever know.”
“This stupid trip isn’t going to bring him back you know. So stop fucking pretending that you’re enjoying it.”
I slumped in my seat. “I’m not pretending. This was a trip we’d been planning as a family for—”
“Exactly. As a family. We’re not a fucking family anymore!”
My chest caved.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if mother nature’s heart also ached.
Our pointless argument was a repeat of the ones we’d already had dozens of times since we set sail.
I picked a fried shallot off my plate and ate it. “I wish you’d stop swearing.”
She threw her hands out in frustration. “Fuck. Fuckety. Fuck.”
“Well, that’s very mature.”
Scout drove her hands through her cropped blonde hair. “Oh, and lying is mature?”
“When did I lie?”
“When you told me Dad wasn’t dying.”
A knot wedged in my throat as I groaned. “That’s not fair, Scout. We didn’t know Dad’s diagnosis when I said that.”
“You told me he’d be with us for years.”
Heaving a calming breath, I stood and crossed the deck toward her. “When I said that, I believed it to be true. None of us knew how quickly he’d pass away.”
I sat a few feet from her and dangled my legs over the side too. Dreamcatcher’s gentle sway gave the illusion that everything was perfect.
It wasn’t. Not much was perfect at all.
Scout reminded me of Lewis is so many ways that sometimes just looking at her hurt me to my core. She’d inherited his height, and athletic build and wild blonde hair. And her green eyes were the color of freshly podded peas, mirroring Lewis’ eyes exactly. Scout also had his sense of humor. . . when she forgot to be angry at me that was.
But since Scout hit puberty, and developed womanly curves that were well beyond her years, she’d rebelled against everything, and I’d lost control of her.
Five months ago, I’d rushed to the same hospital where Lewis had lost too many days, to Scout’s bedside. I hadn’t noticed that she’d snuck out of her bedroom in the middle of the night and had been found unconscious at the house of a seventeen-year-old girl who I didn’t even know. At thirteen-years-old, my beautiful daughter had accidentally overdosed.
I was devastated. She would never have touched drugs if Lewis was around.
If I’d lost her too, I would not be able to claw myself back from my already overwhelming grief.
Two months after her overdose, I dragged Scout away from the school she hated and the friends she hated and the home she hated and made her come with me on a sailing trip around Australia that we should be doing with her father. . . my husband, the love of my life.
“Scout. I know you think I pretend everything is fine. But I assure you it’s not.
“I know it’s not. It’s fucked.”
Groaning, I shifted my gaze to the twinkling stars, praying I’d find the wisdom to help my daughter.
Silence grew between us, and as the waves slapped against the boat with perfect repetition, a bolt of lightning lit up the thunderhead cloud that drifted toward the moon. “Looks like we’re in for a storm.”
“We already have a fucking storm Mom. You and me.”
I tilted my head toward her. “You like saying fuck, don’t you?”
“Fuck yeah.” She shot me a defiant look that added five years to her age.
“Interesting.” I wrapped my fingers over the aluminum handrail.
She shifted her position, so she could glare at me more thoroughly. “What’s interesting?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.” That was a word she threw at me all the time. It was nice to use it back at her for a change.
“Don’t say nothing.”
I giggled and I had no idea why. None of this was funny.
“What’s so funny?” she hissed.
“Nothing.”
“Oh great. You’re hilarious.” She rolled her eyes.
“Thanks.” I flashed a fake smile. “You are too, when you’re not trying to be so mad at me.”
“I was being sarcastic. And I’m not trying to be mad. I am mad at you.”
“Yes, and why is that? Oh, that’s right, because I was trying to offer you your favorite meal, that I deliberately made with less spice than I prefer, just so you would enjoy it.”
Her dark eyebrows drilled together. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“No that’s right Scout you didn’t. But I do lots of things for you, in the hope they will make you happy.”
“Taking me home will make me happy.”
“You weren’t happy at home.”
Her eyes flared. “Of course not. You made my life hell, and Dad fucked off and left me.”
“Hey! Take that back.” I glared at her.
Scout scrambled to her feet.
“Scout! Take it back.”
“Just leave me alone.” She screamed so loud it must have hurt her throat.
I flopped onto the deck and breathing through the knot in my throat, I studied the Milky Way that stretched from one horizon to the other. The blinking blue light of a satellite was directly overhead.
“What do I do with her?” I asked the stars.
A brisk breeze blew into the cabin, and wiping a tear from my cheek, I shut the porthole over the sink. As Thai curry aromas filled the galley, I added, crunchy peanut butter. . . my secret ingredient, to the pot and stirred until it melted.
I had hoped that by dragging Scout away from our home where memories of the man we loved were everywhere, that her self-destructive habits and anger would abate. It had been three months since we left Perth and out here on the ocean, we were at the mercy of the currents and the crisp breezes. . . and I was at the mercy of Scout’s fiery personality.
Some days with my daughter were beautiful and memorable, and then there were days like today. . . where I couldn’t do or say anything right and I longed for the amazing family life we’d had before Lewis had been diagnosed.
Lewis had been the buffer between Scout and me. From the moment Scout had started school we clashed and she’d made it well known that she loved her father more than me. Maybe it was because Lewis had taught her fun things like sailing and fishing and how to kick a football, while I had to force her to do her homework and wash the dishes and remind her to look after herself all the damn time.
Being a mom was hard work.
Being a widow and a single Mom, when my daughter hated me for all the wrong reasons. . . that broke my soul.
As Dreamcatcher dipped and rocked with a wave, I added prawns and chunks of snapper to the simmering red curry and stirred the pot. I caught that fish earlier today. Catching fish in these abundant waters was easy, the hard part was landing them before the sharks got hold of the meal. I’d lost three decent sized fish before I’d caught the snapper simmering in the pan. From the oven, I pulled roasted pumpkin and added that to the pot, along with green beans and boiled carrots.
Mild Thai red curry was one of Scout’s favorite dishes. Not mine though. But that’s what I did as a mom. I sacrificed to make her happy. Fat lot of good that did.
Maybe this trip was a big mistake.
Maybe I should turn around, rather than finish the remaining six months circumnavigating Australia like I’d planned. No. . . like Lewis and I had planned.
Then again, this trip was nothing like we’d planned.
Not when he was dead, I was grieving, and Scout was making my days pure hell.
Sighing, I spooned cooked rice into two bowls, topped them with the seafood curry, and added a sprinkling of fried shallots we’d bought in bulk after we’d discovered them at a fun Asian food market in Darwin six weeks ago.
“Scout, dinner’s ready.”
“Go away.”
I groaned. I couldn’t go away even if I wanted to. We were sailing in the Coral Sea. . . a vast body of water off Australia’s North Queensland Coast. The nearest shore was thirty miles away.
“Scout. Come here, and help.”
“Fuck off.”
Clenching my jaw, I carried one bowl of food and cutlery up the galley stairs. At the top, moonlight danced off the ocean swell and I frowned at the black clouds on the horizon. They hadn’t been there when I stepped down into the cabin earlier to shower and make dinner.
Making a mental note to check the weather after we ate, I crossed the deck to teakwood-clad seating area at the aft, where we usually ate our meals together.
Scout was at the rear of the yacht, dangling her legs over the side. “Dinner’s ready.” I placed the plate onto the table.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I made your favorite red fish curry.”
“I said I’m not hungry! You never listen.”
“I am listening Scout, you’re yelling loud enough for everyone to hear.”
“There is no-one else Mom. You made fucking sure of that.”“Stop swearing at me.” I glared at her.
“Or what?” She turned to face me and in the moonlight, her squared out jaw reminded me so much of Lewis my heart sagged.
The tension between us hung heavy in the night air and the rhythmic creaking of the yacht’s rigging added to my mournful emotional state. Scout’s defiance cut deep. She would never talk to me like that if Lewis was here, and her anger added to my grief which was like an anchor dragging me into a bottomless ocean.
Waves lapped into Dreamcatcher’s side in a lovely symphony that was at odds with the turmoil tangling my thoughts. “Scout, please can we just have dinner together?”
“Oh my god. You don’t fucking listen. I. Am. Not. Hungry!” She spread her fingers like they were claws that she wanted to scratch down my face.
I heaved a breath. “Fine.” We’d had this argument over her not eating so many times it was almost comical. She’d dig her heals in, adamant that she wouldn’t eat, then come the middle of the night she’d wake me with her rummaging through the galley in search of food.
Our limited Tupperware supply got a constant workout with my meal leftovers.
Sitting at the table on cushions that I’d sewn by hand to custom fit the seating nook, I ate a forkful of curry.
I’d held back on the spicy paste to make the meal mild for Scout. Eating another mouthful, a wave of anger washed through me. The Thai curry was bland because of her.
Our argument was because of her.
Yet it was up to me to simmer her rage. It always was.
“Scout.”
“What?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, revealing a vulnerability behind her tough exterior.
“I know you miss your father. I do too. Every single day. Every hour of every day.”
“Then what the fuck are we doing out here, Mom. It’s not helping you. It sure as hell isn’t helping me. I hate it out here. I hate the ocean. I hate this stupid yacht. And I hate—” She sucked in a wobbly breath.
“I know. You hate me too. You told me.”
She glared at me, clenching her teeth so hard her head trembled. “I can’t pretend everything is fine like you do. You’re a liar.”
I put my fork down. My appetite had gone anyway. “I can assure you, Scout, I don’t think everything is fine. I miss your father more than you will ever know.”
“This stupid trip isn’t going to bring him back you know. So stop fucking pretending that you’re enjoying it.”
I slumped in my seat. “I’m not pretending. This was a trip we’d been planning as a family for—”
“Exactly. As a family. We’re not a fucking family anymore!”
My chest caved.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if mother nature’s heart also ached.
Our pointless argument was a repeat of the ones we’d already had dozens of times since we set sail.
I picked a fried shallot off my plate and ate it. “I wish you’d stop swearing.”
She threw her hands out in frustration. “Fuck. Fuckety. Fuck.”
“Well, that’s very mature.”
Scout drove her hands through her cropped blonde hair. “Oh, and lying is mature?”
“When did I lie?”
“When you told me Dad wasn’t dying.”
A knot wedged in my throat as I groaned. “That’s not fair, Scout. We didn’t know Dad’s diagnosis when I said that.”
“You told me he’d be with us for years.”
Heaving a calming breath, I stood and crossed the deck toward her. “When I said that, I believed it to be true. None of us knew how quickly he’d pass away.”
I sat a few feet from her and dangled my legs over the side too. Dreamcatcher’s gentle sway gave the illusion that everything was perfect.
It wasn’t. Not much was perfect at all.
Scout reminded me of Lewis is so many ways that sometimes just looking at her hurt me to my core. She’d inherited his height, and athletic build and wild blonde hair. And her green eyes were the color of freshly podded peas, mirroring Lewis’ eyes exactly. Scout also had his sense of humor. . . when she forgot to be angry at me that was.
But since Scout hit puberty, and developed womanly curves that were well beyond her years, she’d rebelled against everything, and I’d lost control of her.
Five months ago, I’d rushed to the same hospital where Lewis had lost too many days, to Scout’s bedside. I hadn’t noticed that she’d snuck out of her bedroom in the middle of the night and had been found unconscious at the house of a seventeen-year-old girl who I didn’t even know. At thirteen-years-old, my beautiful daughter had accidentally overdosed.
I was devastated. She would never have touched drugs if Lewis was around.
If I’d lost her too, I would not be able to claw myself back from my already overwhelming grief.
Two months after her overdose, I dragged Scout away from the school she hated and the friends she hated and the home she hated and made her come with me on a sailing trip around Australia that we should be doing with her father. . . my husband, the love of my life.
“Scout. I know you think I pretend everything is fine. But I assure you it’s not.
“I know it’s not. It’s fucked.”
Groaning, I shifted my gaze to the twinkling stars, praying I’d find the wisdom to help my daughter.
Silence grew between us, and as the waves slapped against the boat with perfect repetition, a bolt of lightning lit up the thunderhead cloud that drifted toward the moon. “Looks like we’re in for a storm.”
“We already have a fucking storm Mom. You and me.”
I tilted my head toward her. “You like saying fuck, don’t you?”
“Fuck yeah.” She shot me a defiant look that added five years to her age.
“Interesting.” I wrapped my fingers over the aluminum handrail.
She shifted her position, so she could glare at me more thoroughly. “What’s interesting?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.” That was a word she threw at me all the time. It was nice to use it back at her for a change.
“Don’t say nothing.”
I giggled and I had no idea why. None of this was funny.
“What’s so funny?” she hissed.
“Nothing.”
“Oh great. You’re hilarious.” She rolled her eyes.
“Thanks.” I flashed a fake smile. “You are too, when you’re not trying to be so mad at me.”
“I was being sarcastic. And I’m not trying to be mad. I am mad at you.”
“Yes, and why is that? Oh, that’s right, because I was trying to offer you your favorite meal, that I deliberately made with less spice than I prefer, just so you would enjoy it.”
Her dark eyebrows drilled together. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“No that’s right Scout you didn’t. But I do lots of things for you, in the hope they will make you happy.”
“Taking me home will make me happy.”
“You weren’t happy at home.”
Her eyes flared. “Of course not. You made my life hell, and Dad fucked off and left me.”
“Hey! Take that back.” I glared at her.
Scout scrambled to her feet.
“Scout! Take it back.”
“Just leave me alone.” She screamed so loud it must have hurt her throat.
I flopped onto the deck and breathing through the knot in my throat, I studied the Milky Way that stretched from one horizon to the other. The blinking blue light of a satellite was directly overhead.
“What do I do with her?” I asked the stars.
I hope you loved your sneak peek of Risky Attraction.
You can pre-order now at Amazon
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