Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Oh, yes. Yes,” Bernard said, dragging out that last affirmation as he sank back into his lounge chair. He stretched his legs long, taking a sip of his frozen cocktail before he sat it on the table between our chairs and folded his arms behind his head. “This is exactly what Daddy needed.”
Leah giggled from where she was stretched out on her stomach on the chair next to me. “I love the way you say that. Your accent is the best. Say it again.”
“What, daddy?”
Leah fell into another fit of giggles, proof that the frozen daiquiris were treating her well. “I love it so much. I have to marry a British man just so I can hear that all the time.”
“Not a Scot, then?” Bernard asked with a quirk of his brow.
Leah deflated a bit. “Jury’s still out on that one.”
From the other side of Bernard, Gisella sat up in her lounge chair, her beautiful brown skin shining with oil. “I really am sorry about that, Leah.”
Leah waved her off. “It’s okay. You’ve already apologized, and all is forgiven.”
I bit my tongue at that. I already knew Leah was a better woman than I was, and her easy forgiveness of Gisella proved that. But I also wasn’t sure it was a warranted forgiveness, and I felt protective over Leah like she was my little sister.
She might have been over it all, but I still had my guard up.
“I’m just not sure I want to pursue things with someone who isn’t taking it seriously, you know?” Leah shrugged. “I don’t want a boatmance. I want a relationship. And it’s fine if that’s not what Cameron wants, but I need to set boundaries.”
I smirked, though my heart ached for my stewardess as I reached over to squeeze her ankle. I knew all too well how it felt to be the person who wanted more in a relationship.
“I’m proud of you,” I told her.
“Thanks,” she said, but then she giggled as she drained the last of her frozen drink and held up the empty glass to signal our waiter for another. “But don’t judge me for what I do after this next daiquiri.”
We all chuckled at that, placing an order for another round of drinks when the waiter stopped by. We couldn’t have been set up with a lusher beach experience. We had our own private stretch of the sand, multiple cabanas with shade, plush lounge chairs to soak in the sun, and all the booze we could drink delivered by someone serving us for once. It was the perfect crew beach day off, courtesy of the owner of the Sinking Sun, and we were greedily eating it up.
I’d watched a full season of Close Quarters, and while it did show a lot of truth when it came to working on a yacht, there was plenty the show didn’t cover. One thing I felt like it couldn’t fully encompass was just how long and how hard we all worked, day in and day out. We were lucky to get six hours of sleep, and we didn’t just work an eight-hour shift like a normal person might — no, we were on the clock from the time we opened our eyes until our head hit the pillow again. Our breaks were few and far between, quick and filled with one purpose usually: feed ourselves or sneak in a quick nap. And though the people watching the show saw us running from one end of the boat to the other, they didn’t fully understand how that wore on us. We were barefoot most of the time, running plates up and down stairs, lifting heavy equipment or provisions, loading and unloading suitcases packed to the brim.
All that to say — we needed a break, and we were making the most of the one given to us on that beach.
“Well, I’d wish you luck with Cam, but frankly, my dear, I don’t condone boatmances of any kind,” Bernard said when the waiter was gone. His sunglasses slipped down his nose and he pushed them back up on a shrug. “They’re always messy. No way to avoid that. And I don’t think any boatmance can last.”
“Well, so far, I have no evidence to prove you wrong,” Leah said with a longing sigh.
“Hey, it can happen,” Gisella chimed in from the other side of Bernard. “I’ve seen relationships born on boats that lead to marriages. And look at me and Finn.”
“Yeah, but you two didn’t meet on a boat,” Bernard pointed out.
“So? We’re working together on one.”
“And it’s going so well, isn’t it?” Bernard pursed his lips with a little dance of jest.
“It is,” Gisella said defensively. “Yes, I know I kissed Cameron, but it really wasn’t that big of a deal. We’re both over it.”
Hearing her talk about Finn always made my stomach sour. I wanted to be happy for them, but the truth was I just couldn’t be, especially after what she’d pulled.