"You know every captain in California doesn't inspect their yacht personally before every trip."
"I'm not every captain."
"No." Willow smiled warmly. "You're Storm."
There was affection in her voice.
And concern.
She'd been looking at me that way for years.
Ever since Dad's boat never came home.
I pushed the thought away before it could settle where it always did.
Not today.
We had guests arriving in two hours.
A bachelor charter.
Six men.
Ten days to Hawaii.
The itinerary was planned.
The weather was perfect.
Everything was ready.
Or it would be.
A loud metallic clang echoed from below deck.
"Well..." Willow said. "That doesn't sound expensive."
Another clang.
Followed by muffled laughter.
Then...
"I'm okay!" Calle shouted from the engine room.
I leaned over the hatch.
"You don't sound okay."
"I'm still alive."
"That's not what I asked."
A grease-covered face appeared through the opening.
"The port generator is fixed."
I folded my arms.
