“Mom basically had her blacklisted from the yachting community. I heard she had to go back to working at an airport hotel bar.”
“That’s awful!” Jules gasps, but it’s my stomach that’s sinking.
Matthew shrugs.
“Pretty standard procedure in this world. NoCaptain wants a crewmember who’s a liability. Harry and I tried to get her to chill and at least let Chris come back, but when it comes to below deck romance, her OG Catholic comes out full force. EvenI’mnot brave enough to cross her on that.”
Matthew uses his finger to mime a knife across his throat.
“All the way to Davey Jones locker.”
“Jesus, Matthew, you’re so dramatic,” Steven whines.
“How dare you accuse me of drama,” Matthew says theatrically, pulling Steven up by the arm. “Off the plank with you, too!”
My chest constricts as he wrestles Steven to the railing. If anyone finds out what happened yesterday in the elevator, off the plank isexactlywhere I’m headed.
“Boys!” Patricia yells as they continue to spar. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day. Don’t need to add an overboard drill to the list.”
Everyone laughs, and Harry raises his glass.
“Let’s all thank Stella for the wonderful adventure today—and for finding Mom!”
“I was never lost!” Patricia waves him off, but she joins the toast anyway.
“Ya, ya,” Matthew says, removing Steven from his headlock and turning back to me. “Next time, though, could you lose her a little morepermanently?”
Patricia pulls out her phone.
“Excuse me while I text my attorney. How do you spelldisinherited?”
I fake a smile, but I’m certainly not laughing. What would Patricia do if she knew about me and Caleb? And how would that reflect on Jules?
No matter how much I enjoyed myself in the jungle, Ihaveto get my thoughts about Caleb under control. Because flirting aside, he’s still holding up his end of the bargain. I just have to make sure I can hold up mine.
18
Afew hours after everyone else goes to bed, my stomach starts growling like a pissed-off crocodile. Apparently my heart was so full off the success of today’s adventure that I forgot to eat half my dinner. Weighing the potential threat of being yelled at for entering the galley without supervision, my hunger wins out, and I decide to make a run for it.I duck my head outside my cabin to make sure no one else is awake and head for the galley. Luckily, it’s pitch-black upstairs, and no one’s there to stop me. I use the counter to guide myself towards the fridge, pull the door open, and select a perfectly ripe banana from the well-stocked shelves.
But when I pull it closed, I’m looking dead into the eyes of Caleb.
I yelp.
“Shh!” he cautions me. “Are you trying to wake the ship?”
“You scared the crap out of me!”
“Midnight snack?” he asks, no doubt revving up for another reprimanding. I look down to the watch he wears on his left wrist.
“It’s 9:15.”
“Fiji midnight,” he tells me. “It’s what the locals call it since most tourists are too jet lagged to stay up past 9.”
I dart my eyes upward, suddenly conscious that staring at his watch might easily be confused for staring at something else. Oh god, don’t think about his something else…
“You shouldn’t be up here. Patricia doesn’t like guests in the crew area.”
There he is: Mr. Rule Follower. As usual, his forehead is creased with concentration, like he’s trying to decide whether to radio Patricia or come at me with a kitchen knife.
