His Plus One by Kate Aster
Chapter 4
- GRAYDON -
When we first arrive at the pier, the hulking ship alongside it looks plenty big to me, despite what David said at lunch a couple weeks ago.
Small ship, my ass. It looks like a floating city, even if it might not have all the bells and whistles that come on the ships I’ve seen in commercials—the ones with waterslides and merry-go-rounds and ziplines.
But then, immediately after we board, when my family descends on us like an overzealous mob, I’m thinking this ship isn’t big enough.
A deer in headlights, Hailey is passed among my family members in a game of hug-her-till-she-jumps-overboard.
“Hey, guys, I actually like this one. Don’t want to scare her away,” I warn.
It’s the God’s truth. I’m hoping for a long career ahead of me as a SEAL, which means I’d love to tap into Hailey’s brain on future missions when I get to choose our civilian support teams. That will be a lot harder to do if every time she sees me, she breaks into a cold sweat at the memory of my overbearing family.
Besides that, she’s my friend.
“I’m sorry. You’re right,” my mom replies in that amicable tone of hers as she releases her hold on Hailey only to take me into a hug.
Mom. I can’t help the pinch I feel in my chest as she hugs me tight this time. She smells like that laundry soap that she’s been using since I was a kid—the kind that smells like the mutant offspring of lavender, just a little too fake to be real. It’s a smell that usually takes me back to the days when I begged her to stop using it because no guy wants to smell like a flower in high school.
But this time, the smell makes me want to hug her a little closer, appreciate her a little more. Something about hearing how Hailey lost her mom so young makes me wonder how much I take my family for granted, especially this woman who raised me at the same time she drove me nuts.
How would that feel, to not have my mom in my life? Hailey didn’t hear the nagging, the constant reminders about the house rules. She doesn’t hear the echo of her mom’s voice in her head from time to time saying things like “No putting your brother in a headlock at the grocery store.”
I should envy Hailey for that, really.
But Hailey also didn’t spend her entire life having the constant reassurance that she was loved by a mom who would stand by her no matter what.
I can’t believe I’ve known Hailey for four years and never knew that.
Somehow, I feel like it reflects poorly on me that I didn’t.
When Mom sets me free, I take Hailey by the hand and tug her gently toward me. Our eyes meet, and I can see she’s overwhelmed, so I drape my arm over her shoulder to shield her from Hurricane Adler.
She stiffens awkwardly in response. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like I’ve ever tucked her close to my side before like this. Is this too much? Am I stepping outside the boundaries of this arrangement?
Damn. This is weird. For her. For me.
She’s right. We should have prepped a little better for this than we did. I should have asked her if this close is too close.
I drop my arm back to my side.
“We just want you to feel welcome, Hailey,” my mom adds quickly.
Freya starts giving introductions—all my brothers fiancées first, then to her family, ending with her mom who is struggling to see something that popped up on her Apple watch.
“And this is my mom,” Freya ends.
“Nice to meet you both,” her mom says, shaking each of our hands. “Now, I need your phone numbers so I can keep in touch with the wedding party throughout the cruise. You did get the wi-fi package, right?”
“They did,” my mom pipes in quickly. “I made sure of it.”
We exchange digits while Freya gives me a surreptitious eye roll. She lowers her voice when her mom steps away. “I apologize in advance for any strange texts you get from my mom. She’s really bad at technology.”
“A little bird warned us,” I reply.
“More like a flock of birds, I’m betting.” Mason slides up to Freya as he says it, and she nudges him in the gut in reprimand.
“Kiss him, Freya!” Max, my future-sister-in-law (God help us all), directs as she aims her impressive camera at the couple.
“I thought you liked candid photos, Max,” Mason complains.
“Shut up and kiss each other. You’ll thank me later.”
Freya giggles as they kiss, and Max captures the shot. And I can’t help thinking, Max is right—it does make a frameable moment.
Max gives a satisfied nod. “Perfect.”
The moment Freya’s lips are freed from Mason’s, she hands us a couple itineraries. “The top sheet covers our wedding activities and the bottom one has all the ship’s stuff—you know, bingo, karaoke, belly flop competitions,” she says.
My upper lip curls. No. Just no.
“And then here’s a list of shore excursions that you might want to think about if you haven’t scheduled anything yet. Just please, make sure the ones you pick don’t conflict with any of the wedding activities.” She fires that last line to me, as though she knows just how much I’d love an excuse to bail on half the things listed on her agenda.
Hailey takes the last sheet from me and her eyes light. “They have parasailing?”
“Apparently so,” I say, my brow rising as I take in the sight of her as though she’s foreign to me right now. What the hell happened to the computer nerd who boasted that she waited in a six-hour line at the Apple store to get some new piece of hardware?
First, she puts in contacts, and now she wants to parasail?
Fact is, I never really pictured her doing much that pulled her further than arms-reach of a computer.
My thoughts are interrupted by Freya’s squeal at the sight of some guy I’ve never met.
“Harris! Over here!” Delight washes over her face when she spots my brother’s chosen best man—some friend from when they were stationed in Annapolis together. The enthusiasm at Harris’s arrival almost has me thinking that my brother has cause to be jealous, until I see something I didn’t expect.
Or rather, I see the lack of something: the lack of a date.
Harris came alone.
Poor son of a bitch.
Freya does the introductions.
“I’ve heard a lot about all of you,” Harris says. He’s a tall guy, big shoulders, with a short, regulation haircut. In fact, he could easily pass as one of my brothers.
The same can be said for all the Navy guys Mason invited to this wedding though, I realize as I look around the flock of people that’s formed around my brother and future sister-in-law.
“So you’re the guy who beat out all us brothers for the spot of best man,” I chuckle, reaching out for his hand.
“I think it was just to keep the peace in the family,” Harris retorts, and he’s probably right.
A grim frown threatens, seeing myself in him if I didn’t have Hailey by my side right now. I wonder if he has any clue what he’s in for on this trip.
Turns out he doesn’t have to wait for long before he finds out.
“I can’t wait for you to meet Sarah,” Freya tells him in a rush. “She hasn’t arrived yet, but you’ll see her at the Sail Away Party they’re having on the pool deck tonight. I’m sure she’ll be there. And—oh—there’s my cousin Janine over there. You’ll want to meet her—” She takes him by the elbow and guides him away from us.
And so it begins. Poor bastard didn’t even make it to two minutes.
I find myself shaking my head.
“What?” Hailey whispers, her spy senses clearly detecting something.
“That poor guy would have been me if you hadn’t come,” I mutter under my breath to Hailey before my brother comes back over to us.
“Uh, Freya and I are headed to meet with the ship’s wedding planner now to talk about the welcome dinner as soon as I can pull her out of matchmaker mode. But if you all want to hang out together—” His eyes glance around us to the fused mass of people that seems to be growing as each minute passes.
“I think Hailey and I want to just chill in our cabin a bit, if that’s okay with you,” I speak up immediately, spotting my parents headed our way again, looking like they have a million questions about us.
My brother Carson comes up behind Mason. “The cabins aren’t ready yet.”
I glance down at the text I got about fifteen minutes ago to confirm before countering, “Ours is.”
“What?” Carson snatches my phone from me. “Oh, you got a suite. They must get those ready first. Aren’t you special?” he says in that snide tone I haven’t heard since he was about sixteen.
Hailey and I escape the swirling blend of two families—mine definitely the most dominant of the two—and head to our deck where our suite awaits us.
“Sorry about that.” I breathe out as we wait for the elevator in a mob of people.
“Sorry about what?” Her eyes are darting around us, as though she’s looking for an escape from the crowd. “Want to take the stairs?” she tacks on.
“Sure. And… my family.”
She doesn’t even spare me a glance as she trots up the stairs. “They’re great.”
“I’m not sure you’ll be saying that after seven days with them.”
We pass the deck with the casino and another one that seems to have restaurants, and another that is dedicated to shopping, before we finally reach ours. “The way you take steps makes me think you’re not quite as handcuffed to a computer all day as you portray yourself at lunch.”
She glances over her shoulder at me. “I always take the stairs at work. You never noticed?”
“No,” I admit, hating that I really didn’t take notice about much when it comes to her, outside of her brain which is impressive enough to eclipse any other assets she’s got.
If I had seen her take the stairs at work, I sure as hell wouldn’t have not noticed the sway of her perfectly curved hips as she moves. And I’m kind of wishing I hadn’t noticed it now—with a week ahead of me sharing a suite with her.
I’ve never dared to be attracted to her.
I like smart women, sure. But I’m an active guy. She is, by her own admission, more of a homebody. She’d have to be to get as good as she is in digital forensics; Watching her work with tech equipment is like seeing a piano virtuoso fill the air with musical perfection, making a guy like me wonder how many years of study goes into becoming just that good.
So I’ll choose to forget that sway of her hips and hope that tomorrow she puts the glasses back on because they hide just how gorgeous her eyes really are. Every time I see them, I feel like I’m getting sucked into two perfectly blue vortexes.
The halls of the ship are narrower than in a hotel, and every time someone else needs to pass us as they drag carry-on luggage, we need to press ourselves against a wall.
We stop when we see our number on the door.
“Here we are,” she laughs uncomfortably as I tap my key card against the lock and it magically flashes green for me to open it.
“Wow,” she breathes out when she steps in, and I’m suddenly feeling happy I sprang for the mac-daddy of all the remaining suites on the ship. “I thought David said the rooms were small on cruise ships.”
“Apparently not the owner’s suite.” I peek my head into the bedroom which is about the size of a postage stamp. I’m glad she’s impressed.
“I just love the name. Owner’s suite. As if we could own a ship on a government paycheck.” She giggles. “We gotta send David and Swami a picture of this.”
“Hey, check it out!” I head to the small bar and lift a bottle of champagne out of an ice bucket. “I bet even Mason and Freya aren’t getting this kind of treatment.”
“We should give it to them,” she suggests.
“Hell no. We’re drinking this.” I pop the cork, and it bounces off the wall. I pour her a glass, followed by one for me. I never really cared for champagne much. But I could stand to use a little alcohol right now.
After a few sips, we sit on the sofa that I’m betting is destined to be my bed and peruse the itineraries that Freya gave me.
“Well, according to this, we’ve officially got the night off. They’re doing the welcome dinner tomorrow night,” Hailey points out.
“Ah, but the Sail Away party is on the pool deck tonight. Dancing, music, and drinks that I’m betting are heavily watered down.”
She frowns. “That… doesn’t sound my speed.”
“Come on. What happened to the girl who lit up when she saw parasailing on the shore excursions list?”
She laughs. “She took a back seat to the girl who can’t dance to save her life.”
“But imagine the selfies. It’ll be fun.”
The last word has her eyes snapping back to mine sharply. They’re filled with challenge, as though I had just double-dog-dared her, like I used to do with my brothers. Strange.
I watch her ponder, her gaze distant as though she’s debating something—and I’m willing to bet my next paycheck it hasn’t got a damn thing to do with her ex or anything having to do with Facebook or selfies.
There’s definitely something else eating her—some other reason she took me up on my invitation to be my fake date. Which would make sense—because I have a hard time believing that a woman who watched her mother die from cancer at seven, took her first job at the NSA at sixteen, and went on her first deployment at twenty-two is petty enough to take a cruise just so that she could pretend she had a date with a SEAL.
Hell, I could have done that for her with a fifteen-minute photo op at a local food truck.
Her jaw sets, determined, before she says, “You’re right. Let’s go.” She throws back the rest of her champagne and stands abruptly before venturing into the separate bedroom. “This is a king size bed, Graydon,” she points out, looking strangely unsettled after turning in the doorway.
“Yeah. All yours,” I assure her. “The porter will flip this sofa into a bed every night.” I look down at it as I stand again. “I think.”
She shakes her head emphatically. “But you’re a big guy. You should take the bedroom and I’ll take the sofa bed.”
“No way. That wasn’t the deal.”
“You need more space.”
“Hailey, I’ve slept in bombed out buildings. This is all I need.”
“I just don’t feel right about—”
Reaching for her hand, I cut her off, thinking of the trapped look on Harris’s face when he realized he was caught for the week in Freya’s matchmaking snare.
Poor son of a bitch.
“I owe you, Hailey. A lot more than some selfies. You’re taking the big bed. And you’ll have anything else you want on this cruise.” Only then do I realize I’m still holding her hand. I glance down at it the same moment she does. I drop it. “You know, you should probably lay down any rules you want right now. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically, but it’s forced. I can tell.
“I’ve known you for too long for you to make me feel uncomfortable,” she practically snorts.
“I’m serious. Like—handholding. Yes or no?”
“Huh?”
“Can I hold your hand when we’re out and about?”
“Sure, I guess we’d kind of have to do that if we’re dating.”
“But we don’t have to. That’s the thing. Nothing’s worth you being uncomfortable. And if my family says anything, I’ll just tell them I hate PDAs.”
She laughs. “Public displays of affection are fine.”
I consider for a moment. “Arm around the shoulder? Like I did when we arrived?”
“Actually, I kind of liked that.” She blushes, and I can’t help noticing how the slight rose hue of her cheeks seems to bring out the blue in her eyes.
“Kind of… made me feel a part of the family a little,” she adds quickly as though I’d want a further explanation. “It’s a lot to take in for someone whose usual family gatherings consist of just me and my dad.” Looking uncomfortable, she slides open the balcony door and her chest rises as she takes in a breath of salty air as though it’s just what she needed.
I join her there, this time keeping my hands to myself, and watching people scurry around on the pier, loading supplies and passengers at the same time. Then when the ship eventually blows its horn—a warning, I suppose, that we’ll be leaving soon—I can’t resist draping my arm over her shoulder again.
A sign of solidarity. That’s all.
Because we’re in this together. She’ll get her selfies, and I’ll get my family off my back. It’s a mission not unlike the others we’ve shared over the past years.
But I can’t help thinking one thing:
I hope to God she wears her glasses tomorrow.