“Pirate attacks are pretty rare in the Caribbean.”
“A mob boss then.”
“What about a boat chase?”
“Absolutely.”
“Sailboats don’t go very fast, though.”
“Then he’ll steal a cigar boat.”
“Or a Roadster. Two engines instead of one.” Arden seemed to be contemplating the logistics of a boat chase across the Atlantic while I gathered up the courage to make my appeal.
“I have a problem, though.” I waited until I’d recaptured his attention. “Something I was hoping you might help me with.”
“Anything,” he assured me.
“I’ve never been to the Bahamas, and I don’t know much about boats.”
Arden’s grin stretched ear-to-ear. “I can teach you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, if you’ll…” He dropped his gaze for a moment, swallowed, and gripped both my hands. “If you’ll come with me?”
“Be your first mate?”
“Only for as long as you’d like. I can drop you off in Nassau, and you can fly back to New York from there.”
“What if I end up liking it, and I don’t want to leave?”
Arden studied me closely as my own heart thudded inside my chest. I braced myself for rejection.
“You can’t give all of that up for me,” Arden said soberly. I touched a lock of hair that had fallen over one eye.
“What would I be giving up?”
“Your friends and family, for one.”
“My friends have their own lives to live and so does my father. It might do him some good to focus his attention on someone else for a while.”
“What about New York and your lifestyle? What about your TV deal and all the things you need to do to prepare for publication?”
“Bitzy has it covered, and I’ll check in with her when we’re at port. As for the lifestyle…” I made a dismissive gesture. “I’m going to collect rainwater and catch my own dinner. Trade in my suit and tie for…” I assessed the clothes he’d hastily thrown on the floor. “Jorts and a tank top?”
He laughed. “And live without electricity?”
“You said there was a generator.”
“But there’s no wifi.”
I hadn’t really thought about that. The same was probably true for cell service. Completely off-grid. “We’ll really be roughing it, won’t we?” I said.
“And what about your writing?” he asked as if that would be the sticking point. I’d haul in a typewriter—a fucking ink bottle and quill pen—if I must.
“I can write anywhere. These months apart have been dismal. I’d rather have your company than all the devices and dinner parties in the world. I want adventure, Arden, and I want it with you.”
He laughed, eyes shining. “Really?
