Page 63 of Pucking Billionaire

If his arching eyebrow is any indicator, Mason is also impressed with the number.

“You could run two sleds with that many.” Mason scratches his head.

When we all look at him questioningly, he explains, “Dog sledding is a popular activity in Estonia.”

Ah. Right. From what little geography I know, Estonia is somewhere cold.

If Andrew and Martha have questions about Mason’s motherland, they don’t voice them. Instead, they look warily out the window in time to see our little boat begin moving.

Following their gaze makes me feel odd, so I look at the main attraction of this excursion, the glass bottom.

Except there isn’t much to see yet.

Crap.

I hope something shows up and soon.

Our boat picks up speed, and I wish it hadn’t. I can feel it moving a lot more than I could feel the cruise ship. Come to think of it, on the cruise ship, I hardly noticed that it was sailing at all.

When I glance up from the glass bottom, I find Martha and Andrew looking uncomfortable, so I make conversation by asking no one in particular, “Huskies like the cold, right?”

Martha narrows her eyes at me. “What are you trying to say?”

“Our dogs are very happy,” Andrew says challengingly. “They like the sunshine.”

Are they protesting too much?

“Huskies have a double coat,” Mason chimes in. “It helps with the cold, but in a pinch, it can also protect from the heat. Still, I doubt they should overexercise outside in the Florida sun.”

“They are happy,” Martha hisses. “Happy, I tell you.”

Oh, crap. What did we say?

“We have the AC set to sixty-five for them,” Andrew says. “They never overheat.”

“Okay. Cool.” I smile weakly. “No pun intended.”

Ignoring me, Martha whispers something into her husband’s ear.

Looking like the lemon he ate has suddenly became sourer, Andrew stands up and clears his throat. “I’d feel more comfortable if I sat over by the entrance,” he says. “Come, honey.”

They both get up, clearly eager to be as far away from us—or me—as possible.

Note to self: when meeting people with dogs, never ask any questions, or else.

Crap.

As I watch the couple’s wobbly gait, something quivers in my stomach, and I don’t mean the guilt about the social faux pas.

“How was that?” Mason whispers sarcastically when the Floridians are out of earshot. “You sure you’re still upset I deprived you of more of the same back on the cruise?”

I shrug, then point down. “I see something.”

The something is less murky waters that get bluer and more see-through by the minute. Soon, the view becomes actually interesting, or as interesting as fish, seaweed, and coral can be.

Then again, going by the expression on Mason’s face, you’d think we were watching an action-packed summer blockbuster.

Suddenly, I hear a retching sound.

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