Page 24 of Falling Overboard

“Hunter!” I hissed his name, worried about getting too close because there was every possibility that my hands might have minds of their own and wind up on his chest.

“Lucky! To what do I owe this honor?”

Then, to my horror, he came over to where I was standing, so close that I could see every freckle, every vein, every blond hair on his tanned chest.

I felt dizzy.

“Why is your shirt off?” That wasn’t what I meant to say. I intended to reprimand him but it was like my mouth was trying to delay the moment that he put his polo back on for as long as was humanly possible.

He shaded his eyes so that he could look at me. “Because it’s five hundred degrees out here.”

“Ship rules. You can’t take your shirt off.” To the dismay of the female half of the Carmine party.

And myself.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. You need to put it on. We have to keep our entire uniform on whenever we’re on charter.”

He grabbed his polo from where he’d left it and seemed to be moving in slow motion. So much so that I was worried I was about to do something reckless. “Please hurry, we have an audience.”

Hunter glanced up at the gathered women and waved. I couldn’t be sure but I thought I heard someone giggle in response.

“Aren’t we supposed to be making the guests happy?” he asked, still moving at a maddening pace that had the effect of making my heart rate triple.

“Yes, but not by flashing them.”

“I’m not flashing anyone,” he said and then finally, finally put his shirt back on. I let out a deep breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“Well, that’s not fun,” I heard someone say above us, and I completely understood her disappointment. Him putting his shirt back on was like throwing a tarp over a museum-quality painting.

“Lucky, are your cheeks a little pink?” he asked.

My hands went to my face. Why did he notice everything? “Like you said, it’s hot out here,” I finally managed to say.

His grin let me know that he did not believe my explanation.

Nor should he.

“Well, thanks for giving me asterntalking-to,” he said. “Get it? Because we’re in the stern of the ship?”

“I got it,” I said quickly.

“I’m sorry for being such a pain in the boat.”

“What did I tell you about the puns?”

He glanced up, like he was trying to recall just what I’d said. “That you love them and I should share them as often as possible?”

Despite the fainting spell I was fighting off, that made me smile as I shook my head. I wanted to stay here. To keep talking to him and hear what new nautical pun he might come up with. I couldn’t linger, though. His chest being covered up would hopefully make it easier for me to leave. “I should get back to work.”

He nodded. “Me too. Tell the Carbombs I said hi.”

“That’s not funny,” I told him. “You’re going to slip and do that for real and people don’t like it when you don’t remember their names.”

“If I have to explain to you why it is funny, I would be happy to. I can cite references if you’d like. I would include the fact that I’ve made you both smile and laugh, which is enough evidence that what I’m saying is correct.”

“That’s not evidence,” I sputtered. I did think he was funny. He amused me. I wanted to hear what inane thing he would say next, and that was bad because humor was one of the main things I looked for in a man.

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