Page 31 of From Fling to Ring

We gather around one of the three biologists on the boat—I really don’t think it deserves to be called a ship—and he points out the bathrooms, life jackets, and other things they deem important. Before I know it, the boat starts moving and we’re heading out of the San Francisco Bay and under the Golden Gate Bridge.

“This is so cool, I’ve always wanted to do this. Thank you, Tyler.”

This is one of the things I like about Lucy. She doesn’t take things for granted. She doesn’t act like life owes her anything. She’s grateful and says thank you.

I can’t say other women I’ve known practice this with regularity.

In spite of my reservations about whether this little cruise is going to turn into some sort of Poseidon Adventure-type disaster, it is pretty cool to see the Golden Gate Bridge from its underside. And when Lucy shivers in front of me, her smile never wavering, I take the opportunity to pull her to me to keep her warm.

She snuggles right into my chest, and I bend down to kiss the top of her head which, even through her beanie, smells great.

She pulls her face out of my fleece jacket and looks up at me. “Those guys over there are staring at you.”

Oh. Yeah. That.

I barely notice that stuff anymore, I’m so used to it.

I throw them a friendly nod and make a note to go over later and say hi. Right now, though, I’m keeping my girl warm.

Yes, I said my girl.

Rake and Jonas might have dared me to try and date her, and I initially did so with reservations hidden by bravado, but she’s turned out to be smart, fun, and sexy as hell. Will this last beyond the three-month expiration placed on us?

I sure as hell hope so. And fuck their stupid rule about ending things at ninety-days.

“Mmmm. Tyler, could you get me some water, please?”

While enjoying the scenery, the cliffs of the Marin Headlands on one side of the boat, and the city on the other, I missed Lucy’s starting to look a little pale. I help her to a seat and rustle up our backpack. “Here,” I say, crouching before her and handing her a water. “Is something wrong?”

“Aw, it’s just a little seasickness,” a voice booms from behind me.

I turn to see one of the boat’s biologists, a big smile lighting up his weather-beaten face.

I get to my feet. “What can we do about it? Do you have anything we can give her?”

Lucy leans her head back and closes her eyes. Yeah, she does not look good.

“Sorry, sir, no can do,” he booms cheerfully, I suppose because seasickness is a normal right of passage in his world. “We are not allowed to administer any medication. Not even an aspirin. All that’s explained on our website, and in the release you signed.”

Yeah, the stuff I didn’t read.

He peers over my shoulder to take a closer look at Lucy, which really isn’t necessary since she’s pretty clearly green around the gills. “I take it you didn’t get the seasickness patches, did you?”

I shake my head. “If we had, I don’t think she’d be feeling so lousy.”

I want to tell him if he can’t help her, then to beat it.

“Look, if you’re going to be sick, do not tie up the head—the restroom. Go over the side of the ship. It feeds the fish,” he adds.

That’s all Lucy needs to hear. She scrambles to the edge of the boat—not ship—and lets loose.

Jesus fucking Christ. Really?

I grab a water bottle and rub her back while the poor thing loses her breakfast.

I turn to the biologist, who is completely unfazed. “Hey, can we go in early?”

He laughs like that’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Oh no, sir. That’s also in the waiver you signed. This tour is about five hours long, and with thirty-three people on board who paid to see whales, the only way we ever cut things short is if there’s a serious medical emergency.”

---