You Can See Me (12 page)

Ric was glad Pres couldn’t see him, because he was doing everything he could to stifle his laugh. He was falling for this man fast, and he liked it.

Finally, Ric was loosened up. After the lovemaking, he appeared not to have a worry in the world…until they got back on the upper deck. Pres had no idea why the man was so wound up over being on his yacht. Why live in a city surrounded by a beautiful, vast ocean, and littered with countless bays and rivers, if you didn’t like water? It made no sense to Pres, and he couldn’t fathom it. He just figured it was Sunshine being his usual overprotective self and thinking Pres wouldn’t be safe.

I’ll show him… Oh, this is going to be so funny.

They were sitting outside at the large white marble table on the boat’s stern as the staff placed a vast seafood feast in front of them. Ric had on a spare pair of Pres’s trunks and a white tank top. They almost matched, except his trunks were blue and Ric’s were red with large white strips weaving an intricate pattern around his groin.

The chef prepared everything wonderfully, and they ate comfortably. The water was peaceful, and the air was crisp and salty, just like he liked it. He bet the water was seasonably warm too. The conversation was wonderful, of course. He discovered even more of Ric’s sense of humor. The man could be downright hilarious. Pres was still cracking up at Ric making fun of the cougars he worked with, when the chef personally brought out their desserts.

“Mr. Vaughan, if I may be so bold, it’s such a pleasure to hear you laugh,
cher
,” his chef commented in his rich French accent.

Pres blushed hard. He was sure the whole damn boat knew why he was so happy, but he thanked the chef for the compliment and the wonderful meal. He didn’t think he could eat another bite after the succulent oysters Rockefeller, shrimp-and-lobster bisque, filet mignon, and braised seafood with vegetable noodles. However, the smell of Chef’s famous chocolate lava cake was making his mouth water. It would be almost a sin to refuse it.

“Chef, you can retire for the evening…but leave the dessert.” Pres laughed again when Chef swatted him on his shoulder. He knew the chef was a petite Frenchman, but he’d never tried to touch the man or ask what he looked like. He was only needed for his brilliant cooking skills, and Pres adored French-influenced food.

Pres’s thoughts went back to his staff and if they were wondering what the heck was going on with him getting down and dirty with a man now—but to be honest, he didn’t give a damn what they thought. They worked for him. It wasn’t like any of his staff came by to keep him company on any given night. It wasn’t like Cap invited Pres to his every-other-weekend barbecues the man hosted, followed by whatever sports event was on television that afternoon. Pres didn’t take it as hard as he used to, but he wasn’t going to worry about their opinions of him or his chosen company.

“Of course, sir. Enjoy your evening.” After the chef’s retreat, Pres and Ric were alone to share the delicious dessert.

“Open up, Sunshine.” Pres scooped up a generous helping of the cake and some of its warm, gooey chocolate center and aimed it toward Ric’s mouth. He felt Ric close his soft lips over the prongs of the fork before he eased it out slowly.

“Mmmm. Damn, that’s good,” Ric moaned.

Pres’s dick jerked at the erotic sound.
Oh my God.

“You got chocolate on my chin, handsome. Fix it,” Ric purred.

“My pleasure.” Pres could feel Ric’s closeness. The man was practically sitting on his lap on the soft, cushion-covered bench they shared. He cupped the back of Ric’s neck and pulled him to him until his lips met his. He didn’t slip his tongue inside Ric’s eagerly parted lips. Instead, he gently licked the rich chocolate off his lips and chin. Pres felt Ric’s panting, warm breath as he continued to nibble his way to Ric’s earlobe. Ric chuckled and returned Pres’s kisses, chasing his mouth and silky tongue.

“Why do you call me Sunshine, baby? I gotta know. It sounds…” Ric trailed off when Pres stopped his kisses.

Pres’s face stayed buried in Ric’s warm neck. He tried to still his racing heart as he gauged his answer carefully.
Please let him understand.

“You’re a ray of bright light in my very dark world, Ric. It’s like when I step outside and take my sunglasses off to let the sun shine on my face. It gets a little lighter in here.” Pres gently tapped his pointer finger against his temple. “When I’m in my office…there’s no light. When I’m in my bedroom alone…there’s no light. When I sit in my kitchen, eating my very carefully prepared meal—for one—there’s no light. But, when I’m around you, wrapped in your arms, kissing you, laughing with you, making love to you, everything’s so goddamn bright…like sunshine,” Pres whispered.

“Oh baby, I understand. You have no idea how you just made me feel,” Ric confessed, turning his face towards Pres’s and nuzzling him out of his neck .

“I’m not freaking you out?” Pres flushed, slightly embarrassed at his Hallmark confession.

“No. I’m not easily freaked out.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m not. You wanna hear what type of shit freaks me out? One time I had to remove a completely consumed ten-inch vibrator out of the vagina of a four-hundred-pound woman in the ER—now that freaked me the fuck out.” Ric shivered violently.

Pres laughed harder than he’d ever laughed in his life. Sunshine.

* * * *

After sipping on after-dinner cordials, Ric held his man in his arms and gazed up at the millions of stars while the boat swayed on the dark water. It was peaceful, he had to confess. His eyes were drifting lazily when he felt Pres wiggle his way out of his embrace. He stood and stretched like a lazy lion, making Ric smile and shake his head at him. Pres began to move from around the table to the edge of the stern, and Ric felt his heart kick up a notch…or a thousand notches.

“Hey, baby. Where you going?” Ric was already rising from his reclining position.

“Nowhere,” Pres replied lazily as he stumbled a little, moving closer and closer to the edge of the yacht that dropped off into the now-pitch-black ocean.

Ric watched Pres fumble over his feet again. He had only had two drinks. Ric knew he wasn’t drunk. He frowned.
Maybe he’s sleepwalking. Fuck.

“Pres, baby, watch where you’re goi—”

Ric’s words were cut off as he watched Pres take five more quick steps and flail his arms wildly before falling headfirst into the dark water.

“Pressss!” Ric shouted to the top of his lungs as he lunged to the rear of the boat where Pres had fallen in. He looked frantically around the disturbed water. Pres didn’t resurface. “Help! Someone, help! Please! Prescott fell in!”

Ric’s heart was trying to burst through his chest and leap into the dismal water to search for his love. He was yelling so loud for assistance that his head throbbed with an instant migraine.

“Somebody, help me!” Rick wanted to jump in and swim all the way to the bottom and grab Pres himself. But there was one big fucking problem with his rescue plan.

Ric couldn’t swim.

He stood there, paralyzed with fear of the ocean. Hell, Ric couldn’t even doggy-paddle, a result of having stayed away from any water that was over one foot deep. Every second that went by that Pres didn’t resurface felt like hours.

“Where is everyone?” Ric shouted as he continued to look down into the dreary mass of water. It seemed to be taunting him, teasing him, daring him to come inside. The drop was over eight feet. Ric’s entire body shook with horrific fear. “Pres! Pres! Pres! Someone help!”

Ric didn’t want to, but he was gonna have to take his eyes off the water and run to get help. As soon as he turned around, he ran smack into the captain, his velocity knocking the man to the cold deck.

Ric didn’t have time for apologies. He yanked the thin man up by his arms. “Help him, help him, please! He fell in! I can’t swim! Just help him!” Ric practically pushed the man to the edge, would’ve probably pushed him in if the captain hadn’t yelled at Ric to calm down.

“He’s drowning! He’s been under for almost a full minute!” Ric shouted, his tears falling rapidly down his face. He was completely baffled by the captain’s composure. Then Ric registered that there was a slight look of humor on the man’s pale face.

What the fuck?

“I’m sorry, but I think Mr. Vaughan is playing a joke on you,” the captain said softly as he wedged his bruised arms out of Ric’s death grip. “Obviously, not a very funny joke.”

“What? No, he fell. I saw him. He fell right here.”

Ric ran back and pointed over into the water at the precise place Pres had fallen and was stunned into silence at the sight he saw. Pres was casually floating on his back as if he were in a resort hotel swimming pool in the middle of the afternoon.

“What the fu…?” Ric didn’t even finish his sentence as he watched Pres casually backstroke around the boat in the dark water.

“Mr. Vaughan can hold his breath for almost three minutes and swim like a dolphin. I’m sorry he did that to you, but he always dives off the back end. One time I actually drifted several miles away from him before I realized he’d gone for one of his impromptu swims. He really thinks it’s funny. Are you all right, sir?”

“I…I… He l-l-looked like he tripped,” Ric stuttered in complete awe of the whole situation. His tears were still falling, and his body shook against his will. Or was he now shaking with rage?
Why would he do that to me? Why? Who does that to someone?

“Mr. Vaughan, I think you better get back up here. You may have a little problem,” the captain yelled over the side.

Ric watched Pres drop his legs under the water and easily navigate back toward the end of the yacht and pull his soaking wet body up the ladder.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Pres chuckled while grinning like a Cheshire cat. He was completely and utterly oblivious to Ric’s scowl and his tear-streaked cheeks.

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” the captain stated while making a very safe and hasty retreat.

“Why didn’t you join me, honey? The water is fabulous.” Pres grinned wider.

“Have you lost your fucking mind? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have the slightest fucking idea what I just went through right now?” Ric bellowed, hoping he could keep his hands from around Pres’s neck.

He’d never gone from relaxed, to excited, to bone-chilled fear, to rage all in a matter of minutes. His mind vibrated with contained heat. He was so damn angry, his body temperature had to be a sweltering one hundred and fifty degrees.

“Ric, what’s wrong? I was only playing around. You do know I can swim, right?”

How the hell would I know that?

“Why would I have a fully staffed yacht and live five minutes from the beach if I couldn’t swim?”

To Pres that probably seemed like the obvious thing to assume, but Ric was a surgeon…he didn’t assume things. Anyway, Pres was blind, and he’d flailed his arms before he went over.

“Why’d you make that fucking show of falling? Why didn’t you just dive in?” Ric spit out angrily. He knocked Pres’s arms down when he tried to reach out for him. He must have hit Pres a little harder than he’d intended because he immediately saw his concerned demeanor change to something that resembled sorrow and fear.

“Sunshine, I’m s-s-sorry,” Pres stammered. “I guess I didn’t really think. I thought you’d feel more relaxed if you knew I could swim and take care of myself.”

“That’s bullshit. Who the fuck fakes a man overboard! How the hell would that make me calm?” Ric fumed. He had to get off this boat. He was feeling too out of control, and the water all around him was threatening to make him lose his nice dinner. “You wanna play Russian roulette with your life, fine. Do it without me around. I don’t have the stomach for these types of near-death games you like to play, Prescott.”

If Pres got his jollies by fighting in bars, scrapping with massive bouncers, and jumping off the back of yachts in the middle of the night into shark-infested waters, then Ric felt he was with the wrong guy. He was too damn old to play childish games. He wasn’t trying to fall in love with Ashton Kutcher, where he’d go through the relationship getting punked all the time. As bad as it was going to hurt, he’d rather take his loss and mend his broken heart over time rather than go through losing a lover to the hands of death…again.

Ric couldn’t get off the yacht fast enough. He’d locked himself in the guest room until the captain docked. Pres waited for him to open the door, but as soon as he did, Ric’s words stopped him in his tracks before he could utter another apology.

“I thought I could, but I just can’t do this. I won’t watch you kill yourself, Pres.” Ric moved quickly past him.

“W-w-what? Kill myself? Ric, I would never…” Pres stuttered, completely baffled by Ric’s comment.

“Bye, Prescott.”

With those stinging words hanging in the air, Ric left. Pres gripped the railing as he listened to Ric’s heavy but determined footsteps walk up the dock. An engine came to life and faded as it got farther away…taking his light away from him.

Not again. God. Not alone again.
The darkness came fast, and Pres shivered at the coldness of it.

Pres’s head was foggy and disoriented when he felt strong hands lift him off the floor.

When had he fallen?

“Ric?” He grasped at the hands on his shoulders.

“No,
cher
. He’s gone.” His chef helped him to stand. “Come on, sir. Let’s get you to your room. You’ve been lying here for almost six hours. I thought to give you a little space, but it’s time for you to get up. I’ll help you.”

Chef led Pres to his stateroom and helped his limp, tired body into his freshly made bed. He stayed with him while Pres cried into the pillows.

“What did I do? I didn’t know,” he moaned painfully. “I didn’t know he hated jokes so much.”

“Oh,
cher
. I don’t think he hates jokes. He liked to laugh too much to hate jokes. I think he has a phobia of the ocean. The captain said he was frantic he couldn’t jump in when he thought you were drowning, because he can’t swim,” his chef informed him.

“What have I done?” Pres whispered into the large room.

“You didn’t know. You were just having some fun with him. Maybe he had a family member or a friend that drowned, or perhaps even a boating accident. Just give him some time,
cher
. He’ll come around. I watched him while you were together. He’s crazy about you. You just frightened him, is all. Let him calm down, and then talk to him. You’ll see.”

After countless unanswered calls to Ric, Pres decided to stay on his yacht for the rest of the week. He didn’t leave the bed. The chef would bring him healthy dishes, but he’d only take a few bites. The staff was going to be off for the upcoming weekend, and he had a restaurant to critique in Roanoke the following Monday. He couldn’t hide any longer.