Page 49 of Accidental Vegas Vows

The white and black boat had to have been at least ten times my height, towering over us and casting a shadow as my steps grew smaller, slower, until I stopped in stunned silence. I should have assumed — should have known that when he’d boat, he’d meant mega yacht.

People flitted about the two levels of the ship in stark white uniforms, some with clipboards out and others carrying coolers or cushions. One of them, disappearing into the interior, carried a set of sheets over one shoulder that looked suspiciously like they were covered in the characters from Cars.

Noah rocketed past me at the speed of fucking light, and that coupled with Damien’s frantic shouts from somewhere behind me pulled me back to reality instead of standing there speechless.

“Don’t run on the dock! Shit, Liv, can you?—”

I took off toward him, his short sleeve, white button-up blowing behind him in the breeze, but before I could even reach him, one of the staff who was disembarking locked eyes with me and swooped him up in her arms.

Noah spun, his grin massive as he turned to face us in the stranger’s arms. He wasn’t even a foot from the ledge, and my fucking heart pounded in my chest, but somewhere behind me Damien was laughing, catching up more and more.

“Thank you, Sarah,” he chuckled. He stepped around me, one hand brushing across the small of my back and the other carrying both my bag and his. My breath caught in my throat.

“No problem, Mr. Blackwood. You got him?” she asked, her light brown eyes practically twinkling up at him as Noah playfully tried to escape her arms. Her white staff shirt and short black shorts clung to her body, her blonde hair up in a ponytail and flowing over her back in perfectly manicured curls. She looked about my age.

Something about her angered a piece of me that I was desperately trying to keep quiet.

“I got him,” Damien confirmed, reaching out and taking Noah’s hand in his. Sarah released him and stepped back onto the ship, disappearing around the corner. “I told you not to run on the dock.”

“Sorry, Dad. I got excited.”

“It’s okay. Just be careful.”

A man in similar clothing to Sarah collected our bags from Damien’s hand. I wasn’t sure if the ship being full of staff was a positive or a negative — at least we wouldn’t be completely secluded together, but the idea of having people wait on us hand and foot like a miniature cruise was… weird.

The yacht, reflecting the morning sun off its shiny surfaces as it floated easily in the water, must have been at least as long as Damien’s house. There was a lower deck at the back, one that was easily accessible from all sides and seemed to be the main point for boarding. The front, slick and black, had one singular balcony along the top edge, coming to a point in the middle like the front of the Titanic.

Don’t fucking think about the Titanic, Olivia.

Along the back and sides of the ship, a third balcony wrapped around it, with a large opening at one side and the other closed off. I didn’t know a thing about boating besides my short experience on a little engine-powered dinghy my friend had back in high school, and this was so entirely different.

“Do you like it?” Damien asked me, a small life jacket in his hand as he motioned for Noah to hold out his arms.

“The yacht? It’s… massive,” I breathed.

“Is that a bad thing?”

Noah did a little spin before Damien grabbed him again and started fastening the clips.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting it. You said boat,” I explained.

“I mean I’ve got a smaller one, but we can’t sleep on that, and we probably wouldn’t get there in time,” he said. He picked up Noah under his armpits, the kid’s legs dangling wildly, and plonked him onto the back lowest deck of the yacht. “Noah, go that way and follow Adam through those doors, okay? Don’t want you hanging out down here without the railing.”

Noah nodded before taking off into the interior cabins.

Damien offered a single hand to me. He wore a white button-up hung loosely over his frame, unbuttoned down to almost the center of his chest, and his slacks, the same color and made of some of the finest, nicest linen I’d seen. Both billowed effortlessly in the ocean breeze, and I almost felt silly wearing the elastic waistband black shorts and slightly too big, white t-shirt he’d loaned me. I hadn’t packed anything to bring to his house that was remotely geared for this.

But I took his hand.

“As a heads up,” he started, motioning for me to step across the small gap between the dock and the boat, the water sloshing beneath my feet, “there are only two bedrooms on board.”

I stepped easily onto the yacht and froze. “Damien?—”

“You can have my room,” he said calmly. “I’ll share the smaller one with Noah. I just didn’t want you to panic when you realized.”

I blinked at him. “What? I don’t need the bigger room.”

“Trust me,” he grinned. “It’s much nicer than the spare.”

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