Page 118 of Release Me

“Same old. Right, Kyle?” She reaches over to squeeze his shoulder with affection as he drives. She looks so happy.

AndI’mso happy for her.

“You guys remember Vera?” Kyle meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “They had to call the fire department because the guy she was seeing couldn’t get out of the chains she bound him in. They had to cut him out.”

“Yeah, that tracks.” Connor shudders at the memory of his scarring night with the older, adventurous neighbor.

I chuckle. “So, not much has changed is what you’re telling us.”

“Turn here.” Connor points at a parking lot.

Kyle makes a quick left ahead of oncoming traffic.

“Will youfinallytell us what we’re doing?” Katie whines from the back seat as Rachel smooths sunscreen over her back for her.

“We booked an afternoon tiki bar cruise!” Ryan exclaims, clapping her hands. “Connor gave us the name of a great place.”

Oh fuck.

“Remember that coffee shop we went into that one day?” He nudges my arm and points to the familiar mermaid logo on the front of a tiny, festive shed.

“Yeah, I remember.” I sigh heavily.

This could get interesting.

Fucking hell.

48.Sloane

The midday sun beats down on me as I cross the pothole-riddled parking lot to our registration booth—a wooden utility shed that Gigi dressed up with turquoise paint and a thatched roof to serve as the Sea Witch’s welcome post leading to our three boat slips.

Skye’s angelic face is framed within the open window as she sucks back her daily smoothie while waiting for guests to arrive. An oscillating fan flutters strands of her hair but her complexion glows. We call it the Sweat Shack for a reason. A small plug-in air-conditioning unit on the wall above provides some relief, but it’s unreliable and, in the height of the season, weak against the humidity.

All in all, this is a tedious job—confirming passenger details and liability waivers—but someone has to do it, and God love Skye for being the willing victim most days.

“Hello, sunshine. Who do I have today?” I only skimmed the schedule.

She pauses mid slurp. “Ryan Tatum. Party of six.”

“Ryan Tatum,” I echo. “I hope they aren’t a bunch of loud, obnoxious bros. I’m in no mood.”

“Maybeyouaren’t, but you’re gonna put them in the moodinthat.” Skye eyeballs the red string bikini I threw on under my floral Hawaiian shirt—the official Sea Witch captain’s uniform, along with a matching wide-brim hat that Frank refuses to wear.

“Too skimpy?” It’s inevitable that I have at least one admirer on a cruise. The outfit inspires some weird fetishes, and the more these people drink, the bolder they get about sharing. Drunk Uncle Phil at Thanksgiving dinner’s got nothing on his brother, Drunk Uncle Ned, during a daytime booze cruise.

Normally, I stick to modest two-piece suits, but they’re all in the hamper, and I figured my shirt is long enough to hide the thong bottom so my ass isn’t hanging out. Besides, it makes me feel good in my skin, and my ego could use a pick-me-up after Ronan’s blow-off, which I can’t seem to shake weeks later.

This is why I don’t do one-night stands. Or one-daystands, as it was.

“Just right, I say. But make sure you lube up.” She waggles her eyebrows in a cartoonish fashion and then tosses me a full can of sunscreen, drawing my chuckle.

“Oh! Almost forgot. A guy came by today. Where is that …” She spins on her stool, searching the cramped desk.

“What for?”

“He was asking about the captain’s job. Seemed nice. Flirty.”

Not surprising that he’d flirt with Skye. “Cute?”

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