“Irish,” he said, dragging his finger to Finn.
“Indeed.”
“South African,” Eli added, pointing to himself. “With captain up in the bridge, we’ve got half the world here.”
He was so smiley and goofy it was hard not to smile right back, and I knew without a doubt he would be the biggest partier of the crew.
He’d probably also be the biggest flirt.
I didn’t mind that, either.
“Right,” he said, nodding his chin toward me. “Where should I set up, Queen Ember?”
Yep — I officially wanted to kiss that giant, muscular, smiley sonofabitch, because now I had something to focus on other than the anxiety bubbling in my stomach over the fact that the producers had surprised me with my ex on board.
“I’ve got you down here,” I said, pointing to my right. “Back starboard cabin. You’ll be with one of the other deck hands.”
“Lekker,” Eli said, and then he saluted me with a wink as he passed.
“You’re down that way, too,” I told Finn, muttering a curse word internally when I saw his name on my clipboard. How had I not put the pieces together? Probably because there were plenty of men in the world named Finn, and I certainly never expected to ever be reunited withthisparticular one.
Especially on a yacht — since he was supposed to be in Dublin running his own restaurant.
That gave me pause, stomach somersaulting as I wondered what happened to that dream of his.
It was that dream that had sent us crashing into the cold hard Earth two years ago.
Because he’d neglected to tell me about it until we were leaving, until I assumed we’d be leavingtogetherand found out I was woefully wrong. I would be continuing my career in yachting while he went back to Dublin to open his own restaurant. Part of me wanted to go with him, but unless I wanted to get into sailing, there was no yacht season in the Irish Sea. Besides, Dublin was cold and wet. It wasn’t for me.
No matter how much I thought Finn was.
I wondered how he’d ended up back in this world.
Did he want to be here, or was he here out of necessity?
I resisted the urge to look at him, knowing I couldn’t get those answers just by staring into his eyes, and I definitely wasn’t ready to ask the questions out loud. I kept my focus on the task at hand, picking up my phone to text a few additions to the provisioner and ignoring the way my body heated and raised to full alert as Finn squeezed past me and made his way back to his room.
Time passed quickly after that, the afternoon a blur of cleaning, prepping the boat, unloading provisions, and welcoming each new crew member as they came on board. My stews were the first to arrive, Leah and Bernard, both young and eager and, of course, attractive. I wondered if that was a stipulation for the show — to be hot. Leah was a pale, voluptuous, and perky blonde from Alabama with the kind of smile that dazzled like diamonds, and Bernard was a chiseled, cheeky Brit with warm brown skin and charisma in spades.
Palmer was the bosun, a biracial god-like creature from South Florida with short, black, curly hair and a physique so leanI was surprised to witness him lifting heavy provision boxes full of wine like they were nothing.
The second deckhand I met was Cameron, a Scottish dreamboat with dark ginger hair and freckles like constellations from his cheeks to his calves.
And finally, as I was inspecting where all the silverware and dishes were stored on the boat, our last crew member came aboard: a deck stew named Gisella.
“Hi!” I greeted as she made her way through the main salon, her wide brown eyes taking in the scenery.
She was gorgeous, the kind of beauty you saw on magazines and television screens. Her long, rich brown hair was pin straight and shining like silk, her skin a tawny brown, and she was petite — maybe five foot three with a lean, athletic build.
“Hola,” she greeted in return, smile gleaming. “I’m Gisella,” she said, and as we shook hands, I noted the lilt in her accent, a dead giveaway that she was Spanish.
“Ember,” I said. “I’m the chief stew.”
“I’m a deck stew!” she exclaimed. “I think I’m working mostly with the deck team for this season, but if you ever need help on the interior, I’m your girl.”
“Be careful what you offer. I might be calling you down to laundry.”
“Laundry is my meditation,” she said with a wink. “Where are you from?”