Page 4 of Adrift

A giggle bursts from Haley, setting my cock on fire. Shit, this is going to last forever.

“Nice to meet you, Waldo.” Her eyes twinkle at him. And I want to cut his hand off or call dibs on her like my sister did with the front seat of my mom’s car as kids. But we’re adults now. So I’m totally telling him later she’s off-limits. Because, well... I’ll think of something. The poor interior crew is going to have a lot of work to do this season. And fuck me, we’re going to have to help.

Waldo gives her one of his I’m-super-charming smirks.

“Oh, you’re one to watch out for, aren’t you?” Haley’s laugh hits me in the gut.

Fuck, the last thing I need is a boat crush, and on the chief stew too. Heads of departments hooking up never works, withstews and deckhands taking sides like divorced kids figuring out where to go for Christmas when their parents split up.

“Want me to show you around, Haley?” Waldo sidles up to her.

“I’m good; there’s a ton to do. But I’m going to take a minute to get my bearings and make some lists.” Haley swallows and turns to me. “I need to get moving. This boat won’t put itself together.”

“Let me know if you could use a hand or two. Right now, it’s the five of us who did the crossing from Singapore, but I have more deck crew arriving tomorrow. Three Americans, a Brit, and an Aussie. We’re all in this together.”

“I’m super excited you feel that way. Normally I like it when the interior can help on deck too if we’re caught up on everything. But with the size of the boat and only three of us?—”

I have to cut her off. “It’s super infuriating that the primary’s fiancée is being such a jealous bitch. Seriously, we are here for you. Waldo washes dishes like a pro.”

“Just not the crystal!” Waldo grabs a slice of pizza from the crew fridge and waves as he heads to his cabin. We’re taking a twenty-minute break, the first we’ve taken in eight hours. “I need to text my girl.”

The door to our cabin clicks shut, leaving me staring at Haley. “How’d you get this gig?”

“I ran an 80 and a 75 last season. And I worked with the captain’s brother out of Aruba. It was strictly one- or two-week guest charters for most of the season. The owner came on for the last three weeks. Super nice older couple. They were in bed by nine. They’d given up drinking. So other than a breakfast smoothie and keeping their waters full, it was a total vacation. Guess I’m paying for it with these owners. No good deed and all that.” She waves her hand at the mess of boxes in the hall.

“True.” I give a nod, my eyes turning away from the curves of her hips. Shit, I’m done for. I should say okay, see you around, but instead I say, “Let me show you where the primary cabin is. Shayla’s in there. She’s been at it straight for a few days. Opening boxes and putting things away.”

“Right, the captain mentioned that too. A few days in one cabin?”

Showing her is the only way she’ll understand. I guide her up the stairs to the primary deck. “Here’s one of the larger secondary suites.” I open the cabin door and shake my head. “I’ve helped deliver a bunch of other yachts before, and they never looked like this.”

Haley darts in around me, and her mouth opens in an O. “What the heck.” She runs her hands over the plastic-covered furniture. “Everything is shrink-wrapped.”

It’s worse than that—the shrink-wrapped boxes are piled high in the room's corner, leaving no space to even tackle unpacking.

“Every room is like this?”

“Yeah, it took us a few days to get the exterior fit for sailing. And we had to get out of the harbor. It’s too busy to safely anchor.” The two nights we had a local marina were barely enough.

“Every room,” she repeats and shakes her head. “Well, it is what it is.”

“That’s one way of thinking about it.”

She squeezes in between the boxes, and I follow her. “It’s the only way to get through yachting with your sanity intact.” Haley pats my arm again. Normally, I don’t like it when people touch me. But her touch has me wanting to rub up against her like the captain’s goldendoodle.

“I guess you’re right.” I’m leaning on the side of the bed frame, and shit if she doesn’t look even better in the unlit cabin.

“I’m off to find Shayla and the primary bedroom.” She charges out of the room, turning intuitively in the correct direction, but she walks by the stairs.

“There are six suites on this level. The primary is up the stairs.”

“Six suites? Well, all right then.” She turns to go up. And we shimmy around each other. Do I need to follow her? No. But I do. “Wow.”

The grand staircase is something. “Shayla started in here before moving to the primary suite. There were boxes filling the entire space. I love the marble inlay.” I run my fingers over the edge of a credenza with a bookshelf above it. There are a lot of horse paintings and sculptures. “It’s not over the top, gaudy like some of the mega yachts.” Not that I care what the interior looks like. But I know she will.

“It’s actually kind of perfect. Not traditional but not super modern either. I guess I expected with a yacht namedRock Candyit would look like?—”

“A strip-club?”

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