“That’s very good news. If you’re trying to decide where, I have some ideas.” His arm tightened around her. “One idea, really.”
“Unless it begins with Lust and ends with R, I don’t want to hear it.”
She could sense his smile over her head. “Sometimes people like to get married when they settle down,” he murmured.
A wild thrill danced through her. “I’ve heard something of the sort.”
“I have some ideas about that, too. Well, one idea. You should marry me.” The firm conviction in his voice sent electric prickles along her skin.
“I should?”
“Yes. Immediately.”
“Immediately? That might be tricky, considering we’re on a boat.”
Even though there were three other people onboard, Lulu felt as if they were alone in the world, tucked into this wheelhouse, with wild adventure just outside. Sea spray splashed against the windows as they hit a swell. Tristan held her close so she didn’t stagger. She’d never felt more alive.
“Yes, but don’t forget. I can perform marriages.”
He dipped his head and claimed her mouth in a kiss that held all the passion of the restless winter ocean, and then some.
“You can?”
“I am a captain, after all,” he murmured wickedly. “And this is a boat. And you…you’re my love.”
They kissed for a long, long time. “I may want to have children,” she finally said, when he’d kissed the breath out of her. “I seem to really like them.”
“The sooner the better.”
She detected no hesitation in his voice, no reluctance to take on the role of father. “You seem a little different since you got back,” she noted.
“Yeah. I know who I am now, and what I want. I want you, babe.”
She wrapped her arms around his solid chest. “Same, desperado. Same.” After a moment, she added, “I also want to make sure that creep goes to prison for real this time.”
“The sooner the better for that too.”
“And I really, really, really…” She paused for effect.
“What? Anything, my love. Anything.”
“Want to get out of this sea slug costume.”
He threw his head back with a roar of laughter. It vibrated through her body, making her heart sing along with him. “Like I keep saying, the sooner the better.”
Yeah. This was life. And this was where she belonged. With Tristan, chugging back to her new hometown…laughing.
Lulu twirled her way past the costumed members of the Rat King’s Court toward the tall man already waiting in position. Tristan was playing the “God of Seaweed” to her Sea Slug. He wore a wig made of bunches of dried seaweed made by Zoe Bellini. The first time Lulu had seen him in it, she’d nearly peed herself laughing.
Along with the wig, he wore skintight shiny long johns and mud boots. The combination worked so well—wildly, erotically well—that every time they rehearsed, she jumped his bones the very second they were alone.
But tonight, for the grand opening night of Lost Harbor’s quirky annual production of The Nutcracker, she had to focus on dancing instead of all the sex they were going to have afterwards.
On all sides of her, familiar faces watched and smiled. The Nutcracker was truly a community affair. All sorts of folks, especially young people, had been recruited to take part in the “entertain the Rat King” portion of the show.
Bo Briggs and Dylan Boone had put on a mock skateboard duel that had everyone howling.
Maggie, previously known as Spruce Grouse, had performed a knife-throwing act that brought gasps from the audience.
Her good friend Cara, the younger sister of Maya’s boyfriend Rune, was playing Clara; she had real talent that Lulu had every intention of nurturing. There was even a role for Fidget, the harbormaster’s old Irish Setter, whose paw Lulu had helped treat on the Desperado. He played Clara’s dog, though he kept falling asleep at inconvenient moments.
Ruby, Megan’s little girl, didn’t care to perform, but she’d done something amazing for the show. She’d recorded various ocean sounds and seabird calls and offered them to the sound tech to include with the music. They added an authentic touch to the “Nutcracker at Sea” theme of the production.
It wasn’t just the kids who were involved in the show. A crew of fishermen were playing sea otters; they kept popping their heads up behind the other dancers.
The Harbor Hotties burlesque group—Trixie and her friends—played sirens trying to shipwreck Clara and her boat pilot. Some of the volunteer firefighters—led by Nate Prudhoe—came to her rescue, playing orcas chasing away the sirens.
The whole show was hilarious, but also visually stunning thanks to Zoe Bellini’s costuming and art direction. She’d really thrown herself into it, explaining to Lulu that she had to cram in lots of creative expression before her baby came and she got temporarily sidelined.
Padric Jeffers, her rock star husband, had written a song especially for the show. Every time Lulu heard it, it made her cry.
* * *
When the tide goes out, no need for goodbyes
No need for tears when you’re at sea
We’ll meet again, my beautiful friend
And when we do, you’ll see it’s true
The dream goes on, and on and on,
And my heart is yours
wild as the ocean’s kiss
deep as the ocean floor
* * *
Padric was going to perform it live for tonight’s performance, and she hoped she didn’t cry onstage and ruin her sea slug makeup. After the opening show, there was going to be a party backstage, catered by Alastair Dougal and Jessica Dixon from the Sweet Harbor Bakery. Her mouth was already watering just thinking of that feast.
As she twirled across the stage, she caught Tristan’s eye. He winked at her, a quick flash of sea-gray, and braced himself for the lift.
As a cruise ship performer, she’d never included lifts in any of her acts. The can-can, her high-kicks, her comedy bits, none of them required a big strong man to catch her in midair. She and Tristan had rehearsed extensively, but you never really knew how something would go onstage.
Besides, every single one of their rehearsals had ended up with them naked. Something about the way his big hands guided her above his head, then held her there, supporting her pelvis as she balanced, turned her on every damn time.
“Am I ever going to be immune from wanting you?” she’d asked him after the last time, when they both lay sprawled on his living room floor, gazing up at the newly repaired ceiling.
“There’s only one way. Move in with me. See if you get sick of me.”
Hands interlaced, they smiled at each other, and Lulu knew there was no chance of that. They might quarrel—they did quarrel—but they managed to work it out. Tristan was damn good at listening; he claimed he’d learned how to listen from the Desperado, tracking all the sounds his boat made.
“So we’re moving in together,” she said softly. “Right here in Lust Harbor.”
He let out a crow of laughter, then kissed her hand. “Yeah, the sooner the better, if you ask me.” That was his mantra lately, and she didn’t have any objections to that.