Page 7 of Falling Overboard

Showering.

The universe had apparently decided to test my willpower, because I wouldn’t be allowed to kiss or date him. Then I decided it was ridiculous that my mind was even going there—he hadn’t done anything to indicate he might be attracted to me. He definitely gave off a girl-in-every-port kind of vibe. So even if he was attracted to me, would it matter? I wouldn’t want to date someone like that.

Georgia came into the laundry room. She was the kind of woman who had to fight men off with a stick. Poor Pieter was so desperately in love with her he practically swooned every time she walked by. She was petite, gorgeous, with light brown eyes and long blond hair that hung in waves. I had dark brown eyes and had inherited my nonna’s thick, dark hair.

She was the kind of girl Hunter would most likely be interested in. They would be a matched set—like a real-life Malibu Barbie and Ken.

I found myself relieved that she couldn’t hook up with him.

Like she’d intuited what I was thinking about, she said, “Who is the new yachtie hottie? To quote Popeye the Sailor, blow me down.”

I should have known Georgia’s man radar would ping and that she had managed to catch sight of him already.

“His name is Hunter. He’s a deckhand.” I was now officially pre-annoyed because I knew where this was about to go.

“Hunter,” she repeated, musing. “What does he hunt? I would happily lie down in front of him and let him catch me.”

So would I. I pushed the steamer button on the iron and pressed down harder.

She kept talking. “I should take him on a tour of the ship. Do you think he’d let me show him the bow thruster? Or the cockpit? I’d let him lash me to the mast.”

“I’ve already given him the tour,” I said, my tone a bit sharper than I’d intended.

“I’ll bet you did,” she said with a grin and hopped up onto the counter. As the new chief stew, I probably should have told her to get to work but I didn’t. Giving directions to the stews, who were now officially under me, felt uncomfortable.

“He’s so tall and big,” she added with a sigh. “What size shoe does he wear?”

Her question caught me off guard. “I don’t know. Why would I know that?”

“Don’t you have to order his uniform from the provisioner?”

I did. I had completely forgotten.

“You know what they say about men with large feet,” she said while waggling her eyebrows at me.

That annoyance surged again while I tried to tamp it down. “He’s nice, too.”

“So? Why would that matter?”

“I’m glad you’re respectfully objectifying him,” I responded.

“I try,” she said with a shrug. “Do you think he’d let me respectfully objectify him later tonight?”

“What?” I asked in shock.

She started swinging her legs. “If he was my bunkmate, neither one of us would sleep until the season ended. Do you want to trade?”

While it might have been better for my peace of mind to have Hunter in a different cabin, I did not trust Georgia with him. Perhaps it was because he’d been kind to me but I felt like I owed him now.

Or maybe I was just jealous and didn’t want Georgia to have him.

I decided the first reason sounded nobler and so settled on that one and then tried to change the subject. “I thought you were interested in Thomas.”

She made a pshaw sound. “If that man ever had an original thought, it would die of loneliness.”

Georgia wasn’t wrong. Thomas was a hard worker and good at his job but he’d never struck me as particularly bright.

“You know how sea goggles work,” she went on. “Men who are a four on land are a nine at sea because there’s no other options. At least there weren’t any until Hunter showed up. That man’s a ten everywhere.”

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