Читать книгу The Royal Treatment - MaryJanice Davidson - Страница 10

“If you ever touch me again, I’ll pull off your ears and stuff them up your nose.”

Christina Krabbe explained this fact of life to her supervisor, who was at the moment rolling around on the deck, cradling his mashed privates.

Never should have gotten out of bed. Should have tossed the clock on the floor and gone back to sleep.

But she’d never been late for work a day in her life, and if she didn’t crack eight hundred eggs for Friday’s rosemary scrambled eggs, who would?

Christina had known there would be trouble, almost from the moment she came on board. Ed had “accidentally” brushed her butt or a breast a million times. Never enough to be called on his behavior, always enough to make her dread the next time she ran into him. She was just surprised her boss had taken this long—almost three weeks—to make his move.

But today…coming up behind her and grabbing her boobs like she was a cow to be milked…she’d back-kicked and elbow-struck, and then he was on the floor and it was done and couldn’t be taken back. Not that she would.

His lips were moving. She bent closer to hear.

“…fired.”

“What?”

“…fired. You’re fired.”

“Uh-huh. What’s the phrase? You can’t fire me, I quit? Is that it? I ought to sue your ass, Ed, you lecherous piece of shit. But frankly, you’re not worth the time, the trouble, or the aggravation.” Also, I have no money for a lawyer. But never mind.

She threw her belongings into a duffel bag while he recovered, climbed painfully to his feet, and shuffled out the door. She didn’t watch him go. She’d worry about a reference later.

She marched down the gangplank, flashed her employee badge to the guy counting noses, then promptly dropped it into the garbage can at the end of the dock and fell in line behind the geese.

At least they were in port. If Ed had tried his crap while they were at sea, she’d have had a long swim ahead of her.

One of the tour guides—the line employed several dozen, and she could never keep them straight—was doing Alaska 101 for the geese. Christina eased her way past the throng, half-listening to the spiel.

“—Russia did actually offer Alaska to the United States for sale. As you know, America had the Civil War to contend with, and thus wasn’t interested in the purchase at that time, but can you imagine if they had? Alaska would have been the forty-ninth state!”

And since gold and oil were discovered here, we’ve been kicking ourselves about that ever since, Christina thought, smothering a chuckle.

The tour guide droned on while Chris put the gangplank, the ship, Ed, and French Toast Tuesday behind her.

The Summer’s Sweetness—an exquisitely stupid name for a cruise ship—was leaving port tonight. She had no plans to be on it. She wasn’t going near Ed again—he might get the idea in his head that a little payback would be balm to his battered ego. Some men were weird that way. Knock them around defending yourself, and they decide the only way to fix it is to hurt you back twice as bad.

When the ship sailed, she’d still be in port. Marooned in Juneau, Alaska, over a thousand miles from her birthplace. Marooned at the edge of the world, in a place with a famously nutty royal family and more bears than cars.

Great.