Shipped by Angie Hockman

Author:Angie Hockman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2021-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

16

As soon as I twist the knob to shut off the water, someone pounds on the door to our cabin.

Shoving the narrow shower curtain aside, I snatch a towel from the wall-mounted rack and fold it around me. Even the hottest shower I could stand wasn’t enough to dispel the chill from my dip in the water earlier.

The knocking reverberates again.

“One second,” I shout.

Is it Gustavo with an update from James—already? Maybe he’s passing along an official withdrawal of my candidacy for the promotion. Or a two-page lecture. Or perhaps a pink slip with instructions to swim to the nearest island and hitchhike home.

My gut clenches like a fist.

I step out of the tiled shower on unsteady legs, cross into the bedroom, and yank on one of the oversized robes hanging in the closet. It reaches my ankles and the sleeves fall past my wrists, but it’s soft and warm. Tying the belt around my waist, I fling open the cabin door.

Graeme is there, fist raised. His hair is damp and he’s wearing a clean polo and shorts, but they’re strangely rumpled, like he pulled them on in a hurry. Soap mingles with his usual cedar and citrus scent. Lowering his arm, his eyes widen as he takes in every inch of me, from my sopping wet hair to the fluffy white robe to my bare toes curling against the beige carpet. I’m suddenly hyperaware that beneath a single layer of loosely secured terry cloth, I’m completely naked.

“Can I come in?” he asks, voice deep and urgent.

I knot my belt tighter. “Why?”

“I thought you’d like to hear about the conversation I just had with Gustavo.”

Swallowing past the dry lump in my throat, I jerk my chin over my shoulder in silent invitation. He follows me inside. When the door closes behind him, the automatic lock clicking into place echoes like the gong of a bell.

Graeme is in my cabin. We’re here together. Alone. And suddenly, the already cozy room feels even smaller. Like his presence takes up too much of it, filling it to the brim. I edge to the far side of the room to stand in the only place I can without being virtually on top of him: between the two beds.

Graeme approaches cautiously, the soles of his canvas loafers padding softly. He eyes the stray shoes dotting Walsh’s half of the cabin and the clothes piled on top of her unmade bed. “Is your sister still at the bar?” Leaning a hip against the small desk anchored to the wall at the foot of my bed, he crosses one ankle over the other.

“I don’t know.”

“I take it you haven’t talked to her since—”

“You were going to tell me something about Gustavo?” I brace my hands on my hips.

“Right.” He nods. “I talked to him. He’s not telling James what happened.”

My knees buckle and I sink onto my neatly made bed. The soft sway of the ship seems to intensify, and I grip the comforter on either side of my thighs.

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