Page 13 of Story Of My Heart

“We have a party barge?” Immediately, my mind starts doing calculations about maritime insurance and boat docking and maintenance and captain’s license renewal fees and a multitude of other things. This can’t be good. No wonder this place is barely hanging on.

“Yes,” Fallon states matter-of-factly, before slipping into her smiley event’s coordinator persona. She reminds me of Julie McCoy that annoyingly perky, capable woman you see on old reruns of The Love Boat. “Guests rave about it. It has a wet bar and a grill. We charge an excursion fee for them to go out on a sunset cruise. We have music, wine, hors d’oeuvres…”

Now I’m thinking about food cost, wine pricing, and glassware purchases. It seems that while the cat’s away the mice will get a little bougie. “Is this good wine? Are we talking cheese and crackers or full blown charcuterie? And you’re saying this is weekly?”

“Why do you care so much about what doesn’t concern you?” Fallon asks with a frown. “And does it matter? We cater to our guests, Tate. We always have. What they want, they get.”

I start to reach for my Moleskine, prepared to start a whole new segment of budgeting and cost analysis regarding this surprise “party barge”, when Piper brings an elbow to my side, knocking the notebook out of my hand and startling me into silence.

“We’ll be there, Fallon,” Piper says with a grin, sliding her arm around my rapidly bruising rib cage. “It sounds lovely.”

I’m regretting those self-defense classes I made her take. Satisfied with the response of at least one of us, Fallon leaves behind a flier detailing tonight’s events and then makes her way off our porch and toward the main lodge.

Piper leaves her arm around my waist until the door closes, and if it wasn’t for the sore spot on my side, I’d enjoy the sensation. There’s something unexpectedly comforting about her touch, a stark reminder of the warmth I’ve methodically excised from my life. The second we’re alone again, Piper jerks away abruptly. I didn’t realize my waist was so offensive.

“Did you have to elbow me so hard?” I rub at my ribs for emphasis.

Piper flops back down onto the bed with a sigh. “Did you have to dig so deep?”

“It’s my money,” I mutter under my breath. It’s going to be very hard to sit back and let everyone do their jobs this weekend, knowing that their decisions are directly impacting my bottom line. The last thing I’ve ever wanted was to be in charge of my goofball siblings. Emotion does not belong mixed with business.

“Yes,” she concedes. “And if you’re so insistent on keeping it a secret, work your damn shift and shut up about the money. Also, stop sucking the joy out of this not-really-a-vacation. You never take me anywhere. You rarely give me time off.”

“I need you.” I’m starting to worry that the significant other ruse is going to her head. Despite the lines that feel like they’re starting to blur, she’s still my assistant. I don’t owe anyone on my payroll a good time. At least, I don’t think I do.

“So you say. Now, can we just have some fun for a change?”

“I guess.”

She fixes a stare on me that I can only describe as threatening. “Try again.”

“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am.” I snap, adding a salute for a bit of bravado and flair.

Piper continues to stare for a moment, before tapping her toe against one of the bed posts. “Fine. I can work with that.”

We continue our work in silence until an hour before the pontoon cruise launches, when Piper disappears into the bathroom to get ready. Never having been on a party barge, I have no idea what the dress code is. I settle on a simple pair of slacks and a button down with the sleeves rolled up, something that says “I’m trying” but doesn’t shout billionaire. I decide to ask Piper for her approval, knocking on the bathroom door.

“I’m almost ready. Come in.”

The Piper inside the bathroom is not the Piper I just saw. Instead of her perpetual bun or braid, her hair is blown out into voluminous waves. The dress clinging to her petite body is nothing formal or over the top—a long, white jersey knit dress with thin straps at the shoulders, and a modest V-neck—but it certainly looks great on her. The fabric accentuates curves I didn’t even know she had, and the hem reveals a shapely length of leg.

“Can I help you?” she asks, leaning in close to the mirror as she slips a contact lens onto her eye.

“What happened to your glasses?” I’ve never seen her without them on, and the effect is startling. I realize it’s a cliche, finding a girl you already know show-stoppingly beautiful once she takes her hair down and her glasses off completing a bit of a metamorphosis. It’s clearly a cliche for a reason, as I find myself unable to stop staring.

“I got really paranoid they were going to fall off the boat and into the lake. They were expensive, and I like them.” She pauses to assess herself in the mirror, turning to the left and right. Then, she looks at me. “You look … casual.”

“So I did it?” I give her a smile in the mirror, smoothing the shirt against my stomach. “I look like a regular guy?”

“Absolutely. If you remove your Patek Philippe.”

My eyes dart to the watch on my wrist. She’s right. The man that everyone thinks I am definitely wouldn’t be walking around with a watch worth more than a house on his arm. I run into the bedroom, taking the travel case out of my luggage and putting the whole thing away in the nightstand.

“Good catch,” I mumble under my breath, linking my arm in Piper’s as we make our way to the dock.

Arriving fifteen minutes before launch time, I’m surprised to find the boat is already decently crowded. It isn’t at capacity, and the crowd isn’t roaring or anything like that, but there’s a solid dozen people in our group. All of them seem to be having fun. Fallon could be onto something after all, depending on the excursion fee and what the food and wine cost looks like. I strain to look over Piper’s shoulder, trying to get a feel for a make and model of the boat, and she places a hand on my chest, guiding me on board and toward a table full of champagne flutes.

“You’re doing math in your head. I can tell.” Piper speaks through a smile like an accomplished ventriloquist, nodding at the bartender politely as he hands her two glasses of wine. She cuts me off before I can protest, forcing one of the glasses into my hand. “Don’t be so obvious about it. If I catch you trying to price things out tonight, I will kick you in the shin or toss you overboard. I’m serious. Give me your phone. And stop trying to read the wine labels.”

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