Shipped(40)

“I grew up on the doorstep of a national forest. I practically lived outside as a kid.” I tilt my head to the side. “You’re surprised?”

“You’re just so…” He brushes his shoulders off and straightens an imaginary bow tie. “And in our weekly video conferences, you wear those dresses—very professional. But pretty too. Colorful.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Oh, um…”

He laughs. “I’m saying I like them. Your style is like you—a sucker punch people don’t see coming.”

My lips part, but no words come out.

Wincing, Graeme scrubs a hand along the back of his neck. His tricep pops beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt. “And I’ve officially creeped you out.”

“Only a little. Just a tiny creep. Like the size of a gremlin.”

Truth? The thought of Graeme watching me during our video-conferenced weekly staff meetings, taking notice of what I’m wearing, appreciating how I look, has me preening.

And being compared to a sucker punch? Best. Compliment. Ever.

“Well, it was all a very ham-handed way to say I have a hard time picturing you camping,” he adds, a flush creeping along his cheekbones. “Why ‘once upon a time’ though? You don’t camp anymore?”

“Not for a few years.”

“That’s a shame.”

“That’s life, right? You get busy, your career comes first. Other things end up falling by the wayside.”

“Unless you make time for those other things.”

“Easier said than done.”

“True. But life is what you make it. It’s a balancing act. If all you do is work, you’ll wake up one day—ten, twenty, fifty years from now—utterly exhausted. Then you’ll be dead.”

Well, that’s a depressing thought. “And you’re just out there living it up?”

“Me and my girl, Winnie. All day, every day.”

My chest constricts, and I sprawl in my chair, casually perching an arm along the back. “And Winnie is your sister? Your girlfriend?” I hate how my voice has risen an octave.

His lips crack into a wide grin. “Smooth. No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

My inner tigress rumbles its approval and I immediately recoil. Since when do I care whether Graeme has a girlfriend?

“Or a sister, for that matter. Only child. Winnie’s my dog,” he explains.

“Winnie like the Pooh?”

“Short for Winston.”

“You named your girl dog after Winston… Churchill?”

With a sigh, Graeme digs his phone out of his pocket. After a few taps, he extends the screen toward me. “The underbite.”

My jaw goes slack. I snatch the phone and hold it close to my face.

His dog is white with brown spots and hairless except for wispy tufts protruding from its forehead like a troll doll, and it has a lazy eye, wobbly jowls, and a severe underbite. Definitely not a purebred, like I’d assumed. It looks like a mix between one of those hairless crested breeds and an English bulldog.

“This is maybe the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen,” I breathe.

Lips pursed, Graeme scratches his eyebrow. “I know, right? No one else wanted her, even though she’s a sweet girl. She’d been at the shelter for too long and they were going to put her down, so I gave her a home.”

Just like my Noodles.

Something inside me splinters and cracks like an iceberg. I tear my gaze away from the phone to stare at Graeme. At his stubble-roughened jaw, his supple lips, and his eyes. His clear, kind eyes. I see it now, the tenderness, the honest concern for others.

He’s nothing like I thought.

“She’s perfect,” I murmur.

“I think so too,” he says softly.

But he’s not looking at the picture of his dog. He’s looking at me.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I hand him his phone back and our fingers brush. Every nerve lights up like fireworks. This time, I don’t pull away. Graeme brushes his thumb across my knuckles—accidentally? On purpose? He leans forward, eyes glinting.

“There are my two front office friends,” a voice booms, and I nearly jump out of my seat. I drop the phone and it lands on the table between us with a thunk. Graeme gathers it up and pockets it.

“Hi, Gustavo. I didn’t see you there. How are you?” I babble, trying to calm my runaway heart.

“Excellent, excellent,” says the cruise leader, clapping a hand on the back of my chair. “How was the hike this morning?”

“Amazing. I’m glad you talked me into it.”

“I am delighted to hear that. I will let James know.”

My throat constricts and I have to clear it twice before I can speak. “You… you’re in contact with James?”

“Sí, he emailed me yesterday. He asked me to keep an eye on you both while you’re on board. Especially you.” Laughing, he grasps my shoulders and jostles me in a friendly way, but my blood frosts.

James asked the cruise leader to keep tabs on us. I have no doubt he’s looking for an excuse, any excuse, to trash my candidacy and promote golden-boy Graeme straight off. One inadvertently offended guest, one too many moments of distraction could spell the end of my professional dreams.