Shipped(63)

21




Where have you been?” Walsh appears beside me holding a half-empty cocktail when I emerge on the observation deck. Tables and chairs have been brought up and spaced at intervals, while a buffet dinner is being set up in the middle. The ship rocks gently in the evening breeze.

I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Working.”

“I thought we were going to meet up after the breeding center?” Hurt flashes across her features, but it’s gone in a blink.

Groaning, I close my eyes. “Crap. Walsh, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”

Pursing her lips, she waves me away. “It’s fine. I figured you got busy or whatever. I bought you these.” Tilting her cheek, she fingers a pretty blue bead dangling from her ear. “The beads are made by a local artisan out of recycled paper. But because you ditched me, I’m keeping them.”

My gut twists. “Sounds fair.” Snatching Walsh’s drink, I take a long gulp. It’s a watery gin and tonic. She tries to take it back, but I polish it off in two more swallows, ice cubes rattling.

She smacks my arm. “You just drank my backwash, you twat.”

I shrug and set the empty glass on a tray full of discarded glasses a few steps away.

Walsh leans against the metal railing behind her, the hem of her flowered maxidress floating around her ankles. “I saw you with Graeme today. Did you guys talk?”

Clasping my hands, I lean against the railing next to her. “Not exactly.” Automatically, I search for him in the crowd. My nerves hum and I lick my lips. I wonder what he’ll think of what I’m about to offer the guests. It’ll give away the direction of my proposal, but it can’t be helped. I need the trial run.

“Are you really still worried about this promotion?”

“Not as much as I was before. I had a brainwave at the breeding center.”

“Good! See? I knew everything would work out. Now quit worrying so much and ask that man very politely if you can sit on his face.”

I roll my eyes. Face sitting aside, I do still need to tell him what I want. It’s been three days since we kissed. Three days of professional veneer slapped over simmering, bubbling attraction. And it’s not fair for me to keep him dangling.

Do I want him?

The answer flashes in brilliant Broadway neon. Yes!

But the practical angel on my shoulder tuts and pushes the Coke-bottle glasses up her nose. Okay, smart girl. What happens if you two get hot and heavy and then you get the promotion?

He’ll stay in Michigan. I blow out a long breath. Long distance can work though…

Ha! You barely have time to date a guy in your own city. Like you could make long distance happen. And if he gets the promotion, he’ll move to Seattle, but your career dreams will be dead.

At least I’d get a consolation prize.

Scrunching my nose, I let out an irritated huff.

Why can’t anything ever be easy?

At least the weight on my chest that was the gaping void of solid ideas for this proposal has lifted. My throat is scratchy from all the talking I’ve done today, and I haven’t even fully fleshed out this idea yet.

“Hello, earth to Henley!” Walsh snaps her fingers under my nose.

“Huh?”

“I said you’ll have a chance to talk to Graeme tonight.”

“Why? What’s tonight?”

“I’ve arranged for some very special after-dinner entertainment.”

I cut her a sideways look. “What?”

Walsh’s crystal nose piercing twinkles in the waning light along with her eyes. “It’s a surprise.”

Oh God. I can only imagine. “Did you clear it with Gustavo?”

“He gave me the green light. He thinks it’ll be fun for whoever wants to join.”

“As long as it doesn’t conflict with what I already have planned.”

“What do you have planned?”

Doug and Analisa emerge onto the observation deck wearing khakis and matching T-shirts with stylized giant tortoises emblazoned on the front.

“You’re about to find out,” I mutter to Walsh before striding over to them. “Hi! Thanks for coming.” I graze my cheek against Analisa’s as I give her an air kiss.

“Thank you,” says Doug, shaking my hand enthusiastically. “You don’t know what this means to us.”

I nod in acknowledgment. “I think Gustavo wants us over there.” I point to the benches set along the bow of the ship. My thighs quiver as we weave through the crowd. Unlike Graeme, I don’t mind getting up and talking in front of people, but my nerves still tingle with anticipation.

When we arrive at the designated spot, Gustavo is there to greet us. After a flurry of hellos and last-minute logistics, he picks up a microphone and steps onto a bench so he towers above the crowd.

“Good evening, good evening,” he says, his voice booming through the outdoor speakers set beneath the bridge. Voices quiet and heads turn.

“Before we enjoy our outdoor dinner on this second-to-last night of our cruise, marketing manager Henley Evans has a special offer to share with you. Here she is to give you the details.”

He helps me climb onto the bench before passing the microphone over and stepping down. At this height, the pitch of the ship makes my head swim, and I steady myself on the pole to my left. I wish I wouldn’t have worn heels; even these platform wedges are making me dizzy. My pale pink sundress flutters around my knees and I smooth it down.