“Random check at security,” I say automatically. Which, now that I think about it, of course it was. Just a random check. “Normal procedure.”
Mom frowns.
“Strange. I’d think they’d take one look at Beckett—lovely wife, two beautiful children—and know he’s not the sort to cause trouble.”
Beside her, Babs just arches a brow at me.
“The line’s moving,” I announce, a little sharper than I mean to.
Because here I am again, smoothing things over on his behalf. Even if this one isn’t his fault.
I dig into my bag, pulling out the boys’ plastic lanyards, and slip one over each head.
“We’ll put your ship IDs in these,” I say, because I’m prepared for everything.
Except, apparently, having my husband detained by cruise ship security.
“Sorry about that.”
Speak of the devil.
I turn, and Beckett slips under the rope, sending his million-dollar smile to the two ladies behind us before they even think of calling him out for line-jumping.
“What was that all about? Everything okay?” Then I remember the excuse for missing our flight. “You said you got held up by security at the airport too.”
He tilts his head, his eyes still hidden behind those damn sunglasses even though we’re indoors.
“Oh… yeah. Adding my trading license to a financial tracking list? Something new that homeland security’s requiring.”
Ah. Okay. Whatever.
Blakey, who absorbs everything like a tiny sponge, perks up.
“Do you have a secret ID, Dad? Like—Agent P?” Those little blue eyes are huge, deadly serious.
“Buddy, if I were as good as Agent P, you think I’d get stopped by security twice in two days?”
His hand brushes Blakey’s hair, and something tightens in my chest. A memory. A habit. A reflex.
We’re ushered forward again before I have time to dwell on it.
“Down here, Ash! Beck!” Luna waves us toward one of the ticketing agents at the far end of the counter, bouncing on her toes as if boarding a ship is the greatest joy she’s ever known.
The agent barely glances up.
“Passports and boarding passes.”
Beckett starts to hand his over, but I’m faster. I pluck it from his fingers without thinking about it and pass all four across the counter.
Tap tap. Tap tap. The keys click in rapid succession.
“You’re in a balcony stateroom on Deck Twelve.”
She hands us our cards, one by one.
“These are your ship IDs and room keys. Don’t lose them. You’ll get a text when your cabin is ready.”
Max snatches his with reverent excitement.
