Meet Me in Tahiti (Meet Me For Romance #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

The sun was already warm by the time Russ Callen stepped barefoot onto the deck of the Latitude , a spacious catamaran that had become a sort of home away from home for him.

The scent of salt clung to everything—the rope, the canvas covers, even his skin—and overhead, a pair of seabirds circled lazily against a sapphire June sky.

He breathed it in, like he always did. Breathtaking, relaxing. But at the same time familiar. Predictable. Comfortable.

“Need a hand with the drink cart?” he called to Jules, her dark braid swinging as she emerged from the galley.

Jules shook her head and tightened the strap on the front cooler. “Nope, got it. Thanks, Captain.”

“Let me know if you need any help. And make sure the champagne’s chilled.” He smiled. “They’re celebrating something, apparently. ”

“They always are.” Jules rolled her eyes but grinned as she disappeared into the galley again.

Malik was on the starboard side, hosing down the swim platform for the second time. Russ didn’t bother asking why. The man had a love-hate relationship with saltwater—loved the ocean, hated the residue.

“Any word on this group?” Malik asked.

Russ bent to secure one of the paddle boards, checking the lines like he hadn’t done it a hundred times before. “Eight guests. Four couples. American. Early thirties. Here for birthdays.”

Malik grinned. “Great. Probably brought matching shirts.”

Russ smirked and didn’t answer. They’d see soon enough.

Everything about the routine was familiar. Provision, prep, greet, guide. Days in the sun, nights under the stars. Keep the guests happy, keep the crew in sync, don’t get involved.

Simple. Clean. Uncomplicated. Except life hadn’t always been that way.

He tied off the last knot and paused, his hand resting on the warm rail. Five years ago, he’d done this exact same check on the boat he’d worked on at the time—and gone below deck to check his phone, only to find a message from Mia. The kind of message that ended one life and started another.

I need to tell you something…

He’d deleted it, eventually. The whole thread. But the memory had stayed, like the tide—silent and relentless .

He straightened, ran a hand through his sun-bleached brown hair, and looked out toward the marina’s entrance. A boat was approaching the dock—a small water taxi, bringing in the guests.

It wasn’t time to ponder the past. It was showtime.

He straightened his hat and slipped his sunglasses on, the mirror of calm, easygoing charm. Whatever this group brought with them—drama, nerves, expectations—he’d handle it. He always did.

But as the boat pulled up and the first pair stepped off laughing, followed by another only slightly more reserved couple, he caught sight of her.

She stood at the edge of the deck, tote bag slung over one shoulder, a singular tropical white flower in her long, dark, wavy hair.

Her dress fluttered in the breeze, revealing a delicate build with curves in just the right places.

Her skin already flushing in the tropical heat, she glanced around. Did she look… nervous?

Well, she wouldn’t be the first if she was. Not many people were accustomed to sailing the open seas, especially since they’d be living onboard for eight whole days.

He let it go. One glass of champagne and she’d be doing much better.

As the last of the group prepared to step from the water taxi onto the catamaran, he counted. Four women. And only one, two, three men? Had one of the guys canceled? No one had told him his charter would be short one guest.

He studied the dark-haired woman again. She was wearing a smile, along with the traditional flower lei she must’ve been greeted with at the airport, but there was a cautious look to her expression that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Was she the one without a date? It looked that way. Had her plus-one stood her up for this trip, an occasion that was usually a trip of a lifetime for most people? How could anyone do that?

Okay, so he probably shouldn’t assume anything. Who knows what might’ve happened to the guy? He’d ask later, after they were settled in. If there was any casual way to ask.

One of the men laughed loudly, commenting on the bumpy puddle jumper they’d taken this morning from Tahiti.

“What a gorgeous ride!” a woman said. “Wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but so scary.” The single woman laughed along, but somehow, she still looked… lost.

Something tugged inside him. What could make a woman come on a trip like this alone, especially among all of these seemingly happy couples?

Russ adjusted his grip on the rail before he was caught staring. Too bad she was drop dead gorgeous.

Maybe this week wouldn’t be as predictable as he’d thought.

Tessa Reed stepped off the narrow water taxi onto the wooden dock and felt her knees wobble—not from the motion of the boat, but from the view in front of her .

Oh. My.

Turquoise waters in every direction surrounded by dark blue ocean further out, as if someone had come in with a set of paintbrushes and painted each section a different blue.

Swaying, windswept palms on shore, angled in just the perfect direction, as if Mother Nature herself had taken out a carving knife and whittled them into the perfect pose.

She gazed up. Clear blue skies overhead. She breathed it all in.

Okay, so she was now ninety-eight-point-five percent glad she’d come. Even—alone. Well, with three other couples, but no date of her own.

But the catamaran anchored next to the water taxi looked like something out of a travel magazine. Gleaming white hull, smooth teak deck. Gorgeous sails tied up, awaiting the wind. The boat shimmered under the Tahitian sunshine like a dream.

And yet… here she was.

Eight days. On that boat. With her closest girlfriends and their significant others. And without the man who was supposed to be holding her hand.

Tessa squared her shoulders and hoisted the strap of her oversized tote bag higher on her shoulder.

She refused to let this trip be tainted by him.

She hadn’t set aside a sizeable portion of every paycheck for the last three months nor traveled 5,500 miles to sulk in a corner cabin over some guy who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

Nope. She was turning thirty this week, freshly single, and by golly, she was far too sunburn-prone, especially this close to the equator, to be loyal to a cheat of a man. She dug through her bag for her sunscreen as she walked, nearly tripping over the lip of the dock in the process.

A warm hand reached out just in time to steady her elbow. “Careful there,” a low voice said with a trace of amusement behind it.

Tessa looked up and into the face of the man who’d caught her.

Tall. Tan. He had short, tousled, light brown hair under the cap on his head—a black brim and a white crown, which only served to make the official man-in-charge look even more appealing. He was probably in his early thirties? Aviator sunglasses concealed his eyes.

“Oh,” she said unsteadily.

Brilliant. Eloquence in action.

Her hand almost flew to her temple to salute him—he looked so official—but she stopped herself, blushing.

“Welcome aboard the Latitude .” He gestured to the gangplank with a friendly smile. “I’m Russell Callen, your captain for the week.”

Wow. Did all the boat captains in the South Pacific dazzle like this, like they embodied the very definition of smoking hot ?

She sucked in a breath and pulled her gaze away from his broad shoulders, hidden beneath a perfectly starched white polo with the little nautical sign of the charter company over the pocket.

“Oh, hey, everyone,” he called casually, “no shoes on board, please. ”

Tessa grimaced. No shoes? She’d spent hours matching her outfits for each day with a pair of shoes. Okay, so most of them were just the same pair of flip-flops or sandals, but still. What sort of absurd rule was this?

No one else seemed surprised by the rule, however, so she frowned, then stepped out of her sandals and reached down to retrieve them from the dock.

She glanced ahead. Her friends looked like they’d done this sort of thing a hundred times, their shoes already in hand, pulling their suitcases behind them.

Tessa, meanwhile, was trying not to sweat through her linen sundress as she dragged her luggage along, which was, as it turned out, probably twice the appropriate size for a boat like this. Would it even fit in her cabin?

The captain returned his attention to her.

“Thanks,” she managed. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tessa. Reed.”

The captain nodded once, like he was mentally checking off a list. “You’re in cabin four. Port side, forward.”

“Okay, thanks. It’s just me,” she added quickly, immediately regretting how much that sounded like an apology. Or even an explanation. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

Ethan did. But she did not.

The captain’s expression didn’t change. “No problem. I’ll have Jules show you around once everyone’s settled.” He motioned to a young woman on deck.

She nodded and stepped onto the gangplank, aware of every inch of ocean visible on either side. So much water. Clear turquoise that stretched forever. Her stomach twisted.

She’d never been on a boat like this. Never been snorkeling.

Never seen a reef or a tropical fish up close, except maybe in her dentist’s office.

Despite the fact that she’d lived in Miami for a while, she still didn’t feel as comfortable in the water as the others did.

There were no coral reefs in Cincinnati where she’d grown up.

After all, moving to Florida had been quite a leap for someone who’d been land-locked all of her life.

But the job had sounded great, and the pay, higher than any other offers she’d had when she’d started looking for her next career move a few years ago.

Plus, the beach was great. She didn’t go in the water much—more than waist-deep—but going to the beach, she loved.

For that matter, she’d have preferred staying at a resort—and lounging on the sand—over spending a week on a small boat for this momentous trip they’d decided would mark their thirtieth birthdays, even though Tessa’s was the only birthday actually occurring during the trip.

But water-loving, practically-a-fish-herself, Florida-raised Marin had talked her into a private charter cruise after the other girls had jumped on the idea.

She sighed again. She was here now. No going back. It was time to stretch her horizons. Try new things.

But the disappointment rushed at her again. This was supposed to have been a romantic birthday trip. A glittering toast to turning thirty, drinking rum out of coconuts and clinking glasses under the stars. Holding hands with someone special.

Instead, she was the odd number out. The plus-none. The only one with her very own cabin. She sighed inwardly and felt the familiar flush of insecurity rise up.

But she tamped it down.

Because here she was. She was doing this. And she wouldn’t want to be holding hands with her cheating ex-boyfriend, anyway.

She would not cry, and she would not be the sad single girl in everyone’s Instagram photos. She would be the confident, independent woman on her own who’d weathered the storm.

She’d just touched down on the glorious Tahitian islands, for crying out loud! Jet lag or not, this was heaven on earth. She could be brave.

Tessa gazed out from the main deck and forced a smile as a petite woman in a crisp white shirt, black shorts, a long dark braid, and bare feet approached with a friendly gaze and a tray of fruit-infused water.

“Welcome aboard. I’m Jules,” the young woman said. “We’ll get everyone settled in, and then we’ll set sail.”

“Thank you, Jules,” she replied, grinning back.

Tessa took a glass and sipped, letting the cool sweetness calm her nerves.

She fiddled with the flowery lei they’d ceremoniously placed around her neck when the group had arrived at the tiny airport on Moorea after a short flight from the island of Tahiti this morning.

It was another first for her—to be on a plane so small. The overnight flight from Miami had been long, of course, although the layover at LAX had been quick. But at least she’d slept for several hours on the long flights. Honestly, she’d enjoyed the tiny plane, too. It had been exciting.

See, she was already trying new things.

Because yes, she could enjoy this. She could adjust her busy, nine-to-five lifestyle to island time —as Avery and Jenna had taken to calling it—and enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime kind of trip. And she could forget about Ethan, who didn’t deserve to be here—or to be missed.

“Can you believe this?” Jenna said softly into her ear. “This boat is insane. How lucky are we?”

Tessa set her gaze to the wide blue horizon. “So lucky…”

Truly, she was going to enjoy this, one way or another.

Her gaze drifted back to the deck, where the captain was helping the last couple with their bags. He moved easily, like he belonged to the sea and the sun and the breeze. Like he didn’t have to try. It was… charming, really.

But Tessa wasn’t here to be charmed. Charming had landed her on this trip—alone, when her ex had charmed his way into another woman’s life before he’d had the decency to exit hers.

But good grief, the captain didn’t even have to try. That smile was… distracting, to say the least.

She straightened her shoulders and followed Jules down the short, narrow flight of stairs, lugging the suitcase and trying not to crush her toes with it.