Once upon a time he’d been one of those people.
“Dad, this isn’t funny,” Hannah said.
And yeah, there was definitely something more in her voice besides worry. He turned to her. “What’s going on?”
She kept her gaze on her dad. “You mean other than the captain kidnapping us against our will?”
Harry sighed. “Do you really want to be the one to call your mom and tell her we’re not spending Christmas together this year?”
“Dad—”
“See this little dot?” Harry asked, pointing to his screen. “That’s us. See this other dot over there? That’s the port of San Juan. That’s how far we have to go. So nothing personal, Smalls, but I’d rather take on you two any day of the week than a pissed-off Leslie.”
Guilt. That was the unnamed emotion on Hannah’s face, and it flashed again now. Not that James gave a shit. All he did give a damn about was the fact that for at least three days, maybe four, they were stuck on this boat together—a complete nightmare. Especially since he still had absolutely no idea what had happened the last time he and Hannah had been together.
Granted, he’d been royally messed up at that time. Years ago, Jason had died of a rare and misdiagnosed heart condition. His family had fallen apart, and James had . . . lost himself. So much so that he’d asked Hannah to walk away from her life and go explore the planet with him. She’d declined and ghosted him. Probably she’d been the smart one. He’d spent the next year doing the wanderlust thing in between helping his dad run the family lumber business. Eventually he had become an expedition guide, which had mended his heart. Somewhat. The last he’d heard about Hannah, she’d been dating some suit.
He could insist on going back. He’d known Harry for most of his life. He was a lot of things, and reasonable wasn’t always one of them, but at heart he was a good guy. He wouldn’t keep James here against his will.
But looking at Harry and Hannah staring at each other now, both wary and hurting and unsure of their footing together, he knew he wouldn’t be the one to make them turn around. They needed these days together—anyone who cared about either of them could see that.
And like it or not, James did care about them. More than he wanted to admit. But that didn’t mean he wanted to be a part of it, so he turned and walked away, his goal being to lie low and try to stay out of the way of any emotional turmoil. He had his own problems coming his way as soon as his dad met up with them in Puerto Rico. Plus—and this was the biggie—he’d had enough emotional turmoil to last him a lifetime.
Chapter Three
LATE THAT night, they set anchor near the Bahamas. Hannah had spent the day helping Sally. They fixed dinner and prepped the next day’s meals, and then had gone through the daily maintenance routine.
She was aware that James was assisting her dad, but their paths didn’t cross—which on a seventy-foot boat was a miracle, or she wasn’t the only one using avoidance techniques.
Well done.
She waited until her dad had consumed his usual bedtime cocktail and passed out before sneaking into his quarters to steal back her phone. It wasn’t hard to see in the cabin because he had twinkle lights hung across the room, blinking in festive red and green. Through the holiday glow, she easily spotted her phone on his dresser, along with another. She tiptoed into the room, but she could’ve been a bull in a china shop and he wouldn’t have been able to hear her over his own snoring.
She eyed the two phones, flashing back to James dropping his phone into the Santa hat without argument. She knew from her mom that he helped out with the family lumber business but also ran his own expedition company. Surely he needed his phone too, right? After all, what if Candy wanted to reach him? Or sext him?
With a sigh, she grabbed both phones and was backing out of the room when from the corner of her eye she caught sight of a shadow watching her and nearly screamed.
James.
She opened her mouth, but he put a finger against her lips and pulled her into the hallway, carefully and quietly shutting her dad’s door.
“Hannah Banana, sexy cat burglar,” he murmured. “Who knew?”
“I needed my phone. I’ve got work to do.”
“Of course you do.”
She opened her mouth to further explain, but he shook his head. “None of my business,” he said.
Right. And true, but a little part of her felt . . . sad? There’d been a time when they’d known everything about each other. Now the only thing she knew for sure was that he’d hoped to make this trip without her. She was silently grappling with that when one of the two phones in her pocket buzzed with an unfamiliar tone. Pulling it from her pocket, she tossed it to James. “When you scared me half to death, I forgot I also liberated your phone for you.”
He simply slid it into his pocket. Still ringing. She stared at him. He’d changed into cargo shorts, but still wore the same T-shirt. As per yachting rules to protect the teak flooring, he was still barefoot, as was she. There was something about being barefoot with someone that felt . . . oddly intimate. “You’re not even going to look and see who was calling?” she asked in shocked disbelief. “It could be important. Maybe it’s Candy.”
“I’m off-line. And she wouldn’t be calling me.”
Okay, that actually told her nothing. “But . . .” This was unfathomable to her. “What if it’s work?”
“I’m unreachable to work. It’s called a vacation, Hannah. Everyone should unplug once in a while. Especially people like you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “People like me?”
“People who can’t unplug from work because they don’t have a life.”
She gaped at him. “I have a life.”
“Good.”
“I do!”
“I said good.”
She eyed his pocket, which was lit up from his phone inside it. “What about the people who might need to get ahold of you who aren’t your work?”
“The people who matter most to me either know where I am or are here.”
She sucked in a breath, having no idea what to do with that, plus still stinging from the “people like you” comment.
“Have you talked to your dad yet?” he asked.
Startled, she blinked. “What?”
“I could tell earlier that you were holding something back from him. Figured you were here to talk to him about something.”
Nice to know she was still transparent. “It’s nothing that concerns you.”
He looked at her for a long beat, then nodded, and with one last unreadable look, he vanished down the dark hallway.
THE next morning, Hannah awoke at the crack of dawn. Actually, that statement wasn’t quite accurate. In order to wake up, she would have had to have gotten some sleep—which she hadn’t. She lay there registering the gentle vibration of the motor beneath her. They were on the move again. Turning her head, she looked out the porthole. The porthole she hadn’t won but had anyway because James had given it to her without a fight.
As if she wasn’t worth the fight.
But that was a problem for another day. Or, you know, never. At the moment, she needed to own her past and her mistakes—of which there were many. That’s what adulting meant, right? She was going to have to face all of it. Trying to pretend to vacation while working to keep a promise to her boss. Giving her dad the divorce papers right before Christmas.