Page 45 of The Second Chance in the Mediterranean
Seb chuckled. “Dios mío, no. Roy made it.”
I took a tentative sip and blanched. “My God. How does he make coffee so poorly?”
“He should stick to tea.”
I nodded and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “What time is it?”
“Time for breakfast service soon. Roy’s making the bread, but I think it’s best if the rest was up to you.”
“Okay. I’ll be up soon. Hey, what happened to my massage last night?”
Seb laughed. “I started your massage and you snored!”
I rolled my eyes. “I think that means you owe me one,” I teased.
Seb kissed my forehead and whispered, “Rain check, then,” before disappearing, leaving me to choke down the coffee and get dressed on my own.
Roy had put most of the ingredients I needed out on the counter and had been prepping while the bread baked. “Thanks for the help, last night and this morning.”
He shrugged, and I noticed the circles under his eyes too.
“God, what is it like when they stay for a week? Is it always this crazy?”
Roy shook his head. “Not usually. They have high standards most of the time, but also know when to tone it down. And they do like to eat out a lot.”
I hummed and got to work. Roy pulled bread out of the oven while I diced fruit and prepared the beans, saving the eggs for last.
When we got the call, Roy fried, I poached, and we had their breakfast up the stairs minutes later.
“Good morning,” Natasha called when we reached the top of the stairs.
“Morning.” Justin tipped his mug at us.
“Your breakfast.” I slid Natasha’s plate in front of her and then walked around to present from the correct side for Justin. Roy set the accompaniments on the table. “Would you like anything else?”
“No, thank you. But we’re leaving shortly after breakfast and won’t bother you downstairs, so these are for you both.” Justin gave us each an envelope. “Thank you very much for the service this weekend. We look forward to seeing you both in a few weeks’ time.”
“Thank you, sir.” I shook their hands and Roy and I retreated downstairs. Back in the galley, I pulled the envelope out of my pocket. “What’s this?”
“Tips,” Roy explained. “The Boyds work with Dom and like to hand out the tips in cash, personally. Thankfully, for us, they’re pretty generous.”
“Nice.” I pocketed the envelope again, looking forward to seeing how much my stress over the weekend had been worth.
I opened the envelope later in my room. A lot. My stress had been worth a lot. The tip was generous, and when it was added to my tip from the charter and my substantial salary, all my hard work was worth it. Especially when we got to celebrate.
* * *
We hada few days back at the anchorage outside of Gouvia for cleaning and recovering. But Wednesday had been marked on the calendar for a week:fun day at anchor. It was Dom’s treat to us for a job well done while Natasha and Justin were here, and though I wasn’t particularly keen to slack off, Seb convinced me to take the day off too. And truthfully, it would be an easy week—we were staying on Corfu and waiting for the delivery of a few parts and toys for the boat. Roy and I still had to feed the crew, but we’d have time for fun, too.
Seb was sitting on my bed that morning, naked and sleepy. “Please come out and play with us.”
“Seb, I’ve got a lot to do before the regatta.”
“But...bikini. Wet slippery body.” He pulled me between his legs. “Sunbathing.”
“Are you just in your own little world? This is not the ‘Swimsuit Issue.’”
He pouted. “Just a little bit of fun, Marce. You deserve it; you worked so hard this past week.”
