“Can I help ye, miss?” Tadhg asks.
“She’s with us, Tadhg. Summer, this is the captain on my boat, Tadhg. Tadhg, meet Summer Smith.”
He tips his captain’s hat. “Ma’am.”
Summer smiles, glancing over Tadhg in his uniform, and no doubt taking in his long gray hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. O’Donnell. We’ll be off in about thirty minutes. Feel free to get settled.” Tadhg walks up the ramp while several crew members come down to check on things from the dock.
I turn to watch Summer take in my yacht, her eyes exploring the sleek streamlined hull that glistens in the sunlight. There are three teakwood decks, each polished with stainless steel railings. The top deck is two levels above the main ship deck, and her gaze climbs the expansive tinted windows stretched along the sides until she reaches the flybridge where the jacuzzi and upper deck bar are.
“This is considered a boat?” she mumbles under her breath.
“Technically it’s me yacht. But Aoife calls it her boat,” I say, placing a hand on the curve of her back and guiding her up the ramp.
“Ah, got it. So this is what luxury on water looks like.”
I chuckle, motioning to the cerulean-blue script on the side of the yacht. “Welcome to Grá Beag, Miss Smith.”
She leans over the railing of the ramp to get a better look at my vessel’s name. “Grá Beag? What’s that mean?”
“It means little love.”
We continue onto the yacht, and I spot Aoife already lounging on the spacious plush seating under the retractable canopy on the main deck. A polished teakwood coffee table with chrome trim sits between four wicker chairs. A fruit platter and dainty glass bottle of apple juice on top.
Must be for Aoife. She has the crew under her thumb.
Aoife waves Summer over from the cream couch facing the stern of the boat. Summer holds on to her cat and moves to sit next to Aoife while her gaze flickers over the yacht.
If she thinks this is nice, I can’t wait to show her the bow where there’s more seating and an unobstructed view of the horizon as the sun sets. I shake my head, catching myself imagining an evening alone with Summer as the sky fades. It’s been so long since I pictured a woman in my life—or in my daughter’s. I’m not sure why someone so much younger has found a foothold in my mind, but I swallow that thought.
I move to where they’re seated and plop down next to Summer.
“—and at night this huge screen comes down and we can watch movies and eat popcorn!” Aoife darts up, arms wide, motioning to where the projection screen is retracted.
The crew scurries around the yacht in a coordinated flurry to prepare for our departure from the marina. It’s just for one night, but this crew is on the Mob’s full-time payroll, living aboard and ready to move at a moment’s notice.
Aoife follows one of the young ladies into the cabin, no doubt making her way up to the pilothouse to hang with Tadhg as he navigates us out into the water.
“I feel like I should be doing something,” Summer says, fiddling with a keychain on her backpack. Her gaze bounces between the crew members and deckhands.
“Ye want to perform some engine checks?” I smirk.
She offers me a lopsided scowl.
“Or maybe help cast off. Release the mooring lines, push off the?—”
“I get it.” She smiles. “I’d be no help.”
“Relax, Summer. When we get out of the marina, I’ll take ye to yer stateroom and ye can get cleaned up.” I dip my head, trying to gather her attention.
She looks down at her clothing from yesterday. “I know how this must look. I appreciate you letting me take a minute.”
I nod. “What are ye runnin’ from,Miss Smith?” I emphasize the name I’m sure is an alias at this point.
“Running?” She swallows, and I track the movement, my hands aching to reach up and feel her pulse beneath my fingers once more.
“Looks that way to me.” I nod toward the bag on the seat.