“Caleb, if you’re going to get me in trouble, just get it over with.”
He reaches for the counter behind him and, for a second, I think he actually mightactuallybe going for the kill. But what he pulls out isn’t a knife. It’s my sketchbook.
I gasp.
“Where did you find that?”
“You left it on the bridge last night. After…”
After I chewed you out for nearly having my pants off in the elevator?I grab the book from him, and for an instant our fingers touch. Caleb pulls back quicker than if he’d been burned.
Or maybe splashed with holy water.
“I saw the drawing you did of dinner with the crew,” he says after a few awkward seconds. His tone is so blank I’m not sure if he’s about to compliment me or reprimand me for creating evidence of my little forbidden dinner.
“I wasn’t trying to snoop,” he covers when he sees my shocked expression. “I only opened it to see whose it was.”
I open the book, flipping to the page in question. And suddenly, I know why he’s bringing it up. The crew’s all there—Gia with her beautiful long hair, Jim’s face-wide smile and ridiculous mustache, Allie whispering something to Russ. And behind them, hovering in the doorway like an angryschoolmaster, is the aspiring antichrist himself: shoulders tight, frown lines overly prominent, and face marked by the scowl of impending criticism. The face I couldn’t even finish.
Oh shit.
He asks, “Is that how you see me?”
I could lie to him—do that people-pleasing routine where I throw myself under the bus to make the other person feel better—but Calebwasan asshole that night, and my half-finished sketch conveys it.
I crane my neck to look up into Caleb’s milky blue eyes and realize just how close he is to me. Something freezes my vocal cords in place—something I want desperatelynotto acknowledge. I can feel my body wanting him: wanting to push forward, to grind my hips into his. Wanting to reach across the four-inch gap between us and put my hands in his curly golden hair. But I haven’t forgotten my promise to myself. I inch backwards until my butt bumps into the countertop, and like a magnet, he moves with me.
My breath halts in my chest and I grip the edge of the counter. The banana I forgot I was holding splits in my hand, the fruit oozing through my fingers. He’s so close I can see the lines of his Adams apple contract as he swallows.
“I can’t say I don’t deserve it,” he says, taking a step back and relieving the tension that’s knotting my abdomen. I really need to get out of here before I do something stupid. “But I thought maybe I could change your mind.”
“Change my mindhow?” I ask, remembering what happened thelasttime I confronted him.
“Depends,” he says. “How sneaky are you feeling?”
Without turning any lights on,I follow Caleb out of the galley. I’d like to say I’m not sure what it is that convinces me togo, but I’m well aware. Caleb is a lit candle, and I’m the brainless moth that knows she shouldn’t get close, but can’t help but drift towards the flame. Besides, I’ve been avoiding anything even resembling sex for a good chunk of my adult life. I can handle myself around a man who is terrified of dogs and probably irons his underwear.
We’re all the way to the back deck when I notice a crucial detail I’d missed—Caleb is wearing swim trunks. For a second, I think he might be taking me to the hot tub upstairs, but when we reach the swim step, I see something bobbing in the water. One of the double kayaks is strapped up and ready to go.
“What is this?”
Caleb puts a finger to his mouth, using the other hand to gesture towards the salon.
“Are you trying to get caught?” he whispers.
“Maybe I should,” I tease him. “How would Arthur and Patricia feel about their Captain abandoning the ship in the dead of night?”
“I’m notabandoningthe ship,” he says forcefully.
“No?” I gesture to the waiting kayak.For some reason, paddling off into the dark sea alone sounds less appealing than the late-night jacuzzi dip I assumed we were headed for. “Just giving it a midnight polish?”
I have no intention of getting Caleb into trouble. As satisfying as it would be, I’ve ruined enough careers for the foreseeable future. But I am enjoying watching him squirm.
Caleb bristles, his mischievous grin devolving into a frustrated pout.
“Do you want to come, or not?”
For a second, I think I’ve misheard him.
