“What’s wrong?” I ask. He looks around, wide-eyed.
“What’s wrong? Look at the place! It’s a shithole! The team told me it had five stars. Josie, I’m so sorry.” I glance at the hotel, then back at Axe, then back at the hotel. Honestly, I think it looks pretty adorable. The building is wrapped in a fishing net, there is a giant anchor statue out front, and a hand-painted sign readsAhoy Mateys.
“Maybe it wentoverboardon theme, but I’m kind of into it,” I say truthfully as I get out of the car and join him. “Check out that anchor. It’s a pirate’s dream vacation—I should have brought my waders. Hey, and I bet we find some buried treasure in the minibar.”
“We’ll be lucky if we find clean sheets.” Axe rolls his eyes, but I can tell my treasure joke has landed. “Unbelievable.”
“I literally do not get why you’re so stressed.”
He drags his hands through his rain-dampened hair. “I was expecting something with a touch more class and a bit less…Jack Sparrow,” he mutters.
“As long as we don’t have to swab decks, I’m all in.”
Axe is still unconvinced. “Look, I can call the team now, and we’ll reroute. I’m sure I can get a suite at the Ritz or the Four Seasons in Philly. I think they’ve booked us dinner at some local French bistro—but it’s cancellable.”
“Nope. We’re in this together. Come on,” I say, slipping my hand through his, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. A little thrill shoots up my arm as I tug him toward the door, which is designed to look like the entrance to an old ship, complete with a fake wooden wheel affixed to one side as a doorknob. “Remember the tarot? Embrace the unpredictable. This is supposed to be authentic, so we’ll roll with it. Besides, pirates never stay at the Ritz.”
He hesitates, but the heat between our clasped hands seems to sway him. I lead him up the steps, and it’s only after we step inside and approach the check-in desk, which is in the shape of a ship’s bow and manned by a sixteen-year-old in an oversized pirate hat, that I reluctantly drop his hand—just as one of those plastic singing-bass wall plaques starts bellowing “What Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor?” “See?” I laugh. “You can’t get that kind of entertainment at the Four Seasons.”
“No,” Axe says, and he starts to turn around. “Not happening.”
“You’re a wuss,” I say.
“Ginger Snap, I spent years in private security. I am not a wuss. I refuse.”
“You can’t refuse. The ship has already sailed.”
He levels me with a look. “You didnotjust say that.”
“Oh, but I did.” I gesture at the lavish decor. “You need to embrace the theme. Let go, be free.”
Axe closes his eyes. “This is my nightmare.”
“And follow orders or I’ll make you walk the plank.” I bump my hip against his and grin up at him. “No joke, I truly love this place and am psyched to be here with you.”
“You’re a menace, you know that?” But he’s smiling a little.
“And you’re my first mate. So let’s do this.”
I turn my attention to the teenager behind the desk. He’s dressed in a striped shirt, wears an eye patch, and is clearly deeply embarrassed by this whole setup.
As we approach, he mutters an unenthusiastic “Um, ahoy…mateys,” his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s hoping we don’t hear him. “Checking in?”
“Yup. MacKenzie. Two rooms,” Axe says. He’s polite but carrying an edge of authority that, along with the half a foot of height he’s got over this poor kid, only seems to make the clerk shrink even smaller.
“Yes, sir.” The boy, whose on-brand name tag readsSkip, fumbles with his one eye to type on an ancient computer that’s draped in fishing net with a starfish dangling precariously off the side.
“Umm, your first name is Axe? Like, for real?”
“For real,” Axe says.
“Cool name, bro,” he says.
“Isyourname for real?” I ask with a smile.
Skip blushes as he grins back. “When I’m on the clock, it is. Ma likes a nautical theme.”
Nowthat’san understatement. The corner of Axe’s mouth quirks up, and I have to hold in my laughter.
