“Well, it’s about time. How you’re expected to find a suitable”—at this she turns a raised eyebrow on Ant, who continues to grin benignly—“partner, working the hours you do is a mystery to me.”
“I already have a partner, Grandie.”
“Time will tell,” she mutters under her breath.
We’re spared whatever else she might have said by the bus gliding to a stop at the marina.
Despite how rude she was to him, Ant helps my grandmother down the steps of the bus, up the gangplank and deposits her in a comfortable chair with an unobstructed view out the back of the boat.
Like everything Emily does, this yacht is over-the-top luxury. It’s twice as big as it needs to be for the number of people on board, leaving plenty of room for the massive floral displays. The round tables are set with white linen cloths, sparkling crystal glasses, shining silverware and complicated candle arrangements. Hopefully, we won’t hit any rough water; otherwise, this could end very badly.
Servers with pineapple and coconut cocktails sporting little paper umbrellas and tiny hibiscus flowers wend their way through the crowd. They smell delicious, but Ant turns his nose up at them.
“That much sugar belongs in a bag of lollies, not a drink,” he says.
Of course, it’s an open bar, so they’re also serving beer, wine and spirits. This cruise alone must be costing a fortune. I hope the marriage lasts more days than the number of zeros this wedding is setting Ross and Caroline back.
Ant and I wander to the railing, and I make short work of a pineapple cocktail while we watch the land recede as the captain takes us out into the deep blue of the ‘Au’au Channel between Maui and Lana’i Island. If there’s such a thing as paradise, this must surely be it.
“Thank you for being so good with her.” I kiss his slightly bristly, dimpled cheek. I know I said PDAs were out, but that was before we agreed to a holiday thing. “I’m sure she pissed you off.”
He wraps an arm around my waist, pulls me against his chest and presses his mouth to my ear. The softness of his lips contrasts with the rasp of his scruff to raise a shiver that’s followed by a flush of liquid heat.
“Baby, with you in that dress, and the fucking we did earlier, the return of Godzilla couldn’t ruin my mood.” Desire and intent drip from his tone, leaving me in no doubt about what will happen after this nightmare cruise. Popping candy goes off in my veins.
My cheeks burn, and my eyes slide towards where my mother and Warren are standing at the other end of the deck, shooting metaphorical daggers at us. Huh. Didn’t take them long to drop their act. Mischief and a hefty dose of hormones kick in. I rise onmy toes, slide my fingers into Ant’s hair and plant my lips on his. It’s a quick kiss. Not R-rated, but not quite PG-13 either.
When I step back, Ant is grinning.
“Not that I’m complaining, but what happened to no PDAs?”
“Oh, I think you’ve earned that one.” My lips twitch. He’s earnt more than that. And not just for helping Grandie, but for the way he shut Warren down over my dress, firmly but without fanfare or aggression.
“Can you give me a list of things that’ll earn me another? Hey, maybe we could do like a bingo card? If I get enough squares in one row, I get a kiss.” I was right. He’s incorrigible.
“Play your bingo card right and you’ll get more than a kiss,” I whisper before turning and strutting off to find another cocktail. I’ve never strutted in my life, but I’m doing lots of things I’ve never done before with Ant. And it feels bloody brilliant.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ant
I’m grateful for the Hawaiian shirt Lil bought me. It’s a loose fit, and the hem hits the top of my thighs, effectively hiding the situation she’s caused in my trousers by wearing that dress. By kissing me. By making promises for later.
If I were wearing a tucked-in shirt, her mother and grandmother would probably have me thrown off the boat for indecent exposure. And as much as I wouldn’t miss most of the company, I wouldn’t want to cause a scene and embarrass Lil.
Dinner—another formal, three-course extravaganza—is served inside. But the wide windows allow a clear view of the beautiful coastline we’re sailing past, which is bathed in the pink and gold of the setting sun. Unlike last night, tonight we’re at a table with Marion, Warren, Mrs Cooper and Emily’s parents, Caroline and Ross. Oh, and Emily’s sister Sarah and her husband, whose name escapes me. That’s how memorable he is.
It feels a little like getting a table at the Inquisition. Monty Python was wrong. I did expect the Spanish Inquisition. And my tablemates didn’t disappoint.
Warren, who looks like he’s trying to explode my brain with his mind, lobs the first grenade.
“It appears yourboyfriendlied to us, Lili,” he says with a poorly concealed sneer. Fuck. My heart stops. He’s finally googled me and is about to out me in front of the whole table. “It turns out he’s a very good golfer.” Warren turns to me. “Are we going to find out you’re also a pro tennis player tomorrow afternoon?” It takes a moment for my heart to start again. All eyes at the table are fixed on me. Probably wondering why I’m suddenly sweating. Thank God for the heat in here.
“No. I’m not bad with a racquet. But Lilavati and I won’t be playing tomorrow. We’re going horseriding for the day.”
Lil turns to me, mouth agape.
“We are?”
