Page 108 of Falling Overboard

This was Hunter’s father?

Surprise slammed into me and rendered me temporarily immobile and speechless. What was happening?

The women were much more effusive in their affection and they all hugged Hunter tightly, telling him they loved him and had missed him. I stole a glance at Hank and I felt a little foolish that I hadn’t immediately made the connection as soon as he had stepped on board.

He was Hunter thirty years from now.

I was in complete and total shock. I might have shaken hands with his father but I couldn’t remember. Everything with his mother and sisters was a complete blur.

Then I heard Captain Carl say, “Lucky will take you on a tour of the boat and we’ll get your luggage all handled.”

I was in no state to do a tour. It was a good thing that I had done it before because I was basically relying on muscle memory as I moved through each room and explained its function.

This was Hunter’s family. Hisfamily. They were the new owners of the ship. This very expensive yacht.

Which meant he was wealthy. Obscenely wealthy.

It also meant his name wasn’t Hunter Smith.

HunterCartwrighthad been lying to all of us since the very first day he’d come onto theMio Tesoro.

Did the captain know? He had to have known. Why else would he have told me to keep an eye on Hunter? Because he knew exactly who Hunter was.

The owners’ son.

His soft, uncalloused hands. The way he hadn’t known anything at all about yachting. Law school. He’d never talked about working or having another job besides this one. Being in a fraternity. There had been so many hints that he came from a completely different background from mine.

I thought back to that night with the Carmines, when Hunter had asked whether or not we had a dishwasher, and realized that he probably hadn’t meant an appliance—he had most likely grown up with an actual person who had washed his 24-karat-gold-plated dishes by hand.

We went back to the main salon, and with my brightest, fakest smile, I asked what I could get for them. Both girls requested sodas, their mother a dry martini, and their dad asked for a whiskey sour. I invited them to go onto the deck to watch us pull out of port.

They did so and I was grateful for the temporary reprieve. I went over to the bar and started grabbing bottles and glasses.

I had shared so much with Hunter about my life, where I had come from, my struggles.

And while he had been vulnerable with me, I realized now how careful he had been in what he had shared. I’d heard the captain call his mom Dr. Cartwright. What was she a doctor of? What did his dad do? Where did all this money come from?

What university had he gone to? Which law school? My guess was Ivy League on both.

How could he have kept this from me?

Georgia came over to the bar, most likely to help me, and immediately quiet shrieked, “Hunter is rich?”

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.” I was still shaken up over it.

“He didn’t tell you about the fake-dating thing, either,” she pointed out unhelpfully. It was true, though. He had kept things from me before.

“Why would he do this?” I asked.

“I don’t know, mate. He obviously had his reasons for it. I can’t imagine they were nefarious. Regardless, he’s still invited to my future wedding as the groom.” At my expression she hurried to add, “Kidding! It was a joke!”

We had a job to do, but all I wanted was to run and find him and make him explain what was going on.

When I didn’t say anything, she said, “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Give the bloke a chance.”

I wasn’t angry. I was confused and surprised. Maybe the anger would come later. I just didn’t know what to make of all this.

Maybe I wasn’t surprised because men had always lied to me before.

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