“This is like something out of a movie,” I said, shaking my head.
“Everything about Zayn’s life seems to be.”
“Have you been on his yacht?”
“Once.”
“Is it as ridiculous as it sounds?”
“Whatever level of ridiculous you’re thinking, double it. Maybe quadruple. There were two hot tubs. Two. Who needs two hot tubs on a boat?”
“Was one filled with champagne?”
“Don’t let Zayn hear you ask that. You’ll give him ideas. You wanna try to tiptoe inside? See what the accommodations are like? And if we have enough food for being trapped out here?”
I hadn’t thought about that.
Nothing about Zayn spoke of practicality. I could easily see the cabinets being full of liquor… and the only thing in the fridge being mixers and fresh limes.
“Let’s do it,” I agreed, even as every single overworked muscle in my body objected to moving. Not to mention my sore feet and busted ankle. That said, Ama had given me a pain pill to take the edge off, so it could be worse. I had a bottle jingling in my pocket with more if either of us needed it.
With way more effort than it should have taken for two reasonably young and fit people, we finally made our way around the deck and down the narrow little steps to the cabin.
“Huh. I didn’t have Zayn pegged for the classic ‘all wood everything’ look. But I like it,” I decided as we stepped into the kitchen/dining/living space with gleaming golden wood.
“Let’s see,” Caymen said as he went behind the little island and pulled open the door to the fridge. “Huh.”
“That bad?” I asked, trying not to focus on my growling stomach.
“No, actually. This thing is full. Looks like takeout and some of those meal things that come premade and you just heat up? But fancier than a microwave dinner.”
“Thank God. I wasn’t going to complain, but I’m starving. Give me something.”
“Looks like the subs are the best option to eat first before the bread gets soggy.”
“And you’re talking and not handing me a sandwich because…”
A little chuckle escaped him at that as he handed me the brown bag.
“Drink? He’s got a little bit of everything.”
“Whatever soda is fine. God, a sub never smelled so good,” I groaned as I peeled back the wrapper just enough to take a big bite.
“Sit your ass down. You’re not supposed to be on that foot.”
“Yes, sir,” I said over a mouthful of food and dropped onto one of the white cushioned chairs.
He shook his head at me, but came over with his sub and drinks.
“Maybe I should add a boat to my retirement plan. This is nice.”
“You have a retirement plan?”
“You don’t?”
“Think joining the club was the only plan I had. Didn’t think beyond that.”
“Well, I mean, that’s a retirement plan in and of itself. You guys seem to make good money. And Huck seems to be the kind of leader who takes care of his people, even if they aren’t actively working anymore.”
