Page 81 of Falling Overboard

“What was that about?” I asked.

She waved her hand nonchalantly. “Oh, we might have hooked up a couple of hours ago.”

“Georgia!”

“What?”

“You’re on shift!” I reminded her. How was I supposed to respond to this? What would Marika have done? Honestly, she probably would have laughed about it and asked Georgia for details.

“Trust me, it didn’t take long. Although he surprised me a couple of times. Especially when he—”

I held up one hand before I went over and turned on the espresso machine. I needed more caffeine than mere coffee could provide. “I don’t need to know more. Why now?”

She shrugged. “I was bored, it was dark, and my ovaries were desperate.” She watched as I took eggs and butter out of the walk-inrefrigerator. I was going to have to write down everything I used for when Andre had to restock.

“That’s not really a good reason.”

“I think you should make a move on Hunter,” she announced, and I nearly dropped the eggs I was carrying.

“You also think Vegemite tastes good, so forgive me if I don’t make decisions based on your opinions.” I was teasing her to get away from what felt like a very serious subject matter, but she wasn’t interested in letting it go.

“I wouldn’t push you in that direction if there were other options. Normally I’d tell you that there’s plenty of fish in the sea, but you and I know better since we work here. The ocean is overfished and full of garbage.”

I laughed.

“And this ship?” she went on. “Is a shallow pond and not at all suitable for fishing.”

“Yet you seemed to have landed one.” I was going through a cabinet filled with baking supplies, hoping that Andre had some chocolate chips.

“A little one that I’ll have to throw back.”

“Your call,” I said, triumphantly finding some semisweet chips on the bottom shelf. “But Pieter is nice to you. I know you’re not used to that, but it is okay to let a man be nice to you.”

“He does kind of worship me, doesn’t he?”

I liked how nice Hunter was to me. I was also unused to it.

As I tossed the chocolate chip bag onto the counter, Georgia’s phone rang.

“Who is calling you this time of night?” I asked as she glanced at the screen.

“My grandmother, who does not understand the concept of time zones no matter how many times I explain it to her. She also keeps sending me all-caps texts about how I’m going to hell for ‘fornicating.’I told her that I’m never getting married, so technically I’m not having premarital sex, but I don’t think she was amused.”

“Go to bed,” I said with a laugh. “I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, get some rest. Once I’m up, I’m up.” I couldn’t have gone back to sleep even if I’d wanted to.

Although it would have been nice to just lie awake next to Hunter and listen to him snore.

“Okay, I’m off. See you tomorrow. Or, later today.”

“Good night,” I called after her and then finished gathering up the ingredients I needed. I turned on the oven to preheat it and searched for the silicone mats and the baking half-sheets.

I fell into an easy rhythm. I missed baking like this. I had never dared infringe on the sanctity of Andre’s galley before. I would have to clean up really well so that I wouldn’t have him yelling at me when he woke up. Things fell apart completely on a yacht when the chief stew and chef didn’t get along.

It was then that I noticed it was raining. If I’d been on an upper deck, I would have realized it sooner, but the rain must have shifted direction and was falling sideways and hitting the porthole in the galley.

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