Adrift (Wrecked #1)

1. Launch

Chapter 1

Launch

Haley

I clutch my duffle bag over my shoulder. It’s digging into my skin, while my suitcase thumps with each deck plank it rolls over. Eight a.m., but this marina is bustling. Crew are pulling carts of trash past me; birds squawk and circle above them. I’ve seen a lot of marinas, and this dwarfs them. It’s twice as big as the dock of my last yacht, back in Fort Lauderdale. And the yachts here aren’t like at home. Good Boy , to my right, is a mega yacht over 80 meters long. The next one, A Good Deal , is even bigger. The vessels here make the ones back in Lauderdale look like something you’d put in your bathtub.

My arm aches. Why did I bring so much? I know better. It’s just that, after breaking up with Steven, I packed most of my things in the back of my mother’s Honda to die a slow mildewed death in her Maryland garage. I’ve only got essentials with me—at least, that’s what I told myself when I hopped on the plane.

I give a nod to a bosun on the next mega yacht. He’s scrubbing the side of Day Trader , port of call Macao. He waves back. Damn, the muscles bulging out of his crew shirt have me walking a crooked line.

Focus, Haley . Having a boyfriend right now isn’t what I want. Or need. And I’ve promised myself I will never, ever have another shipboard romance. And this time, I mean it.

Slip sixty-nine is at the end of the dock. I pray the slip number is a funny accident and not the mentality of the ship’s owner. I leave my suitcase at the bottom of the gangplank, take my shoes off, and board. It’s a massive boat, 85 meters long. I studied its plan on the plane on the way over.

The deck’s empty and a bit of a mess. The deckchair covers are half off, and a bucket full of water sits beside the large outdoor dining table. Inside the main salon, it’s not much better. The pillows on the sofa have tight plastic wrapped around them, and a tower of them are threatening to tip over.

“Hello.” A deep, warm voice fills the space. “You must be Haley. I’m Captain Samuel. Call me Sam.” He puts his hand out for me.

The jet lag is getting to me. I didn’t sleep at all on the plane. And with the twelve-hour time difference, I’m in for a world of pain. I need to get a grip on myself. Because I’m staring at my boss like he’s some sort of lollipop I want to lick.

Of course, I knew he was going to be good-looking. His brother Charlie—the first officer on my last boat and the reason I got this job—is handsome in that I’m-a-rugged-guy-who-likes-dogs-and-hiking kind of way. But Captain Sam... Damn. Thick dark hair, his crew monogrammed polo stretched tight over his chest. Deep blue eyes, with light laugh lines around them. If Charlie is handsome, Sam is traffic-stopping gorgeous. Is that even a thing for guys? If it’s not, it should be.

I shake myself out of my daze. Charlie sent my CV to him, and Sam hired me a few days later. A godsend really. Getting out of Florida and away from Steven were my two highest priorities. And this is about as far away from Florida as you can get.

“Haley. Nice to meet you, Captain.” I shake his hand firmly, like my grandfather taught me.

He laughs. Sam’s got a touch of gray at his temples, wide shoulders, and his arms are those of a captain who does more than steer a ship and sit in the wheelhouse all day. I’ve never been interested in older men, and that isn’t going to change now. I bite my molars together—I’m going to focus on the job, the primaries, and my staff. Being the best chief stewardess out there is my only task. I love being a stew. And I’m darn good at it.

I shake his hand, and that stupid spark of desire rolls around in me like one of my granddad’s old pinball games. The captain’s blue eyes land on me, and my face has to be turning five shades deeper red than the pillows lying on the floor.

I let go of his hand that I’ve been holding for too long. “Wow, this place is a wreck.” I pause. Captains can be super defensive of their ships. “I mean, she’s beautiful but a mess.”

“You’re correct on both counts. The owner, whom I’ve known for a few years, insisted they rush delivery from the boatyard, and the company obliged. They finished the interior mechanicals and built-ins, but we took possession on the day some of the furniture arrived from Singapore.”

I do a one-eighty in the salon. Everything is in place, if you consider covered in plastic and cardboard “in place.” A lot of the finishes that would normally be completed by now are taped down for rough seas or are in boxes on the floor. “My team will take care of it.” We can make this place shine.

The captain looks away. His barrel chest lets out a huff, and he turns back. “Well, that’s the thing, Haley. I understand I signed you on as chief stew of eleven.”

The air in my lungs chokes me. I need the money of the chief stew position to afford to live on my own after the season’s finished. I’ve put down a deposit on a nice apartment for myself.

“But things have changed a bit since you got on the plane to come here.” He picks up a box off a chair and motions for me to sit. That’s not a good thing. I don’t want to sit.

Fuck.

I sit.

And he pulls up the chair across from me. “The owner of the boat has decided not to allow rentals this season. They want to take it all for themselves.”

My chest relaxes. Owner-occupied means the tips won’t be as great, but it also means not as much work. Unless they’re the kind to bring a never-ending rotation of guests through. “That’s no problem, Captain. Sam.”

“Right, owners can be a pain. I’ve known this one for a long time. He’s good. A daughter in her twenties and a son. I’ve never met him. Easton Rockwell, the Olympic swimmer. He’s always too busy training to come out with his dad and sister. The thing is that this boat was to have ten stews.”

“Eleven with me.”

He nods. “Right? We’re supposed to have a lot of stews. And it definitely calls for it. But the new fiancée doesn’t want too many. She called yesterday, when they moved up their boarding again, and told me to knock the interior team down.”

“All . . . right. Why?”

“All I could get was that they might be a distraction.” The captain clears his throat. “Candy is a lot. I’ve captained boats for Rocky for years. His last wife was demanding but reasonable. She knew what she liked and how she wanted it.”

“Demanding is normal. I can handle demanding.” Pretty clever how he told me the fiancée isn’t reasonable. “We can work with what we have. And how many do we have now?”

“Three.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I really wish there was something I could do.”

“Three and me.” What the hell? The jealous bitch. What does she think we’ll be doing? Not the owner but his laundry.

“Three with you.” He purses his lips.

“Did you find any male stews? Maybe she would be okay with some guys.” Not that I want to take more jobs away from women in yachting. It’s already such a male-dominated industry.

“One of the original ten was, but he hadn’t left home yet. And if I had to make cuts, I didn’t want it to be on the line of gender. That’s not who I am. Your second stewardess, Shayla, is already on board. She was with me and the owners last season aboard the owner’s old boat, the Mermaid’s Tale . Shayla’s been unpacking and working the primary cabin for the last two days. Your third stew will be here tomorrow.”

I nod. That’s yachting—you do what you do with the time you have. Providing the level of service I demand of myself and my team is going to be difficult. But I’ll do my best. I need to brace myself for three months of no sleep. Hopefully, the new fiancée enjoys shopping and we can get her off board in a lot of ports.

“I’ve gotten a raise for your two stews. And I convinced the owner to double your salary.” His blue eyes flash, and I want to see him do that again. They’re so blue, if you saw a photo of him, you’d think it was a filter. But no, they’re all him.

But double damn. I can do three months with no sleep for double my salary.

“I know it’s great to have more cash, but I can assure you there will be more than one time this season you’ll wish you had more stews and less money.”

“I can already tell you I know that’s going to be true. But I’m tough, and we can get it done.” I wish he’d told me this twenty hours ago. Because if he let eight of them go... I studied their CVs over the last few days while I travelled. And I have definite preferences for which two I want. There’s one that—as hard as I tried not to—I have already labeled as my problem child. A stew can only be as good as the chief, but sometimes you can’t train stupid. Something about that one CV made me cringe. “Who is the other stew?” Don’t say Brianna, don’t say ? —

“Brianna.”

My stew smile slips onto my face. The one I use when guests ask for six espresso martinis while I’m trying to pack for a beach picnic and deal with a belligerent chef. “Oh, I’ve read her CV.”

The captain laughs. His rich tone pulses over me. What should I do? I cross my arms over my chest.

“Is that a problem?” He raises his perfectly arched eyebrow.

“No, not a problem. I might have preferred someone with a little more experience, if it’s only the three of us. Her CV is lacking a lot of things.” Like everything from bar skills to laundry, and forget about service and tablescapes. “What made you pick her?” I hope I don’t come off too condescending.

“Right. She’s a niece of the?—”

“—new fiancée.” It blurts out of me.

His nod and a faint smile make me shiver. Why? I’ll have to unpack that when I put my clothes in my bunk. I’m not attracted to my boss. That’s going to be my mantra for the next three months.

“Don’t let that get around. If you’re as clever as my brother says, you’ll have figured that out, anyway. I’m going to ask you to try to keep the rest of the crew in order around her.”

“You want us to keep things from her?”

“Negative. But don’t let things get out of control. Or let any crew talk about the surrounding owners.”

“Yes, Captain.”

His smile lights up his face. “I’m glad you can abide by my rules. Do you want me to show you around?”

“No, I’ve got it. Unless there’s anything special you want to point out.”

“I can do that at dinner. It wouldn’t be bad for the deck to hear it too.”

I nod and stand in the doorway. I’ve worked on boats before where the deck hands helped a lot with dishes and serving. Never on a yacht this size. My breath catches.

“Do you have questions?”

“I suppose. Did the fiancée limit the deck crew too?”

“No, we’re running a full deck. I detest compromising service, but I won’t let safety be an issue. Not ever. They’ve already pushed us to launch earlier.”

“Good.”

“I’m happy to have you on board, Haley. Seriously, my brother Charlie spoke so highly of you. He made it sound like you didn’t need any stews.”

“Thank you. And tell him thank you again for the reference.”

“Will do. Although you’re liable to see him before me. That’s the way it goes with a seafaring family.”

I nod. I wouldn’t know jack about family, seafaring or not.

“Oh, here. You’ll need your radio. My cabin’s that door there.” He pulls a radio from the top of the chart stand in the back of the wheelhouse and points to the door next to the stand. “Open it up and look. You should know every inch of this vessel.”

I clip the radio to my belt. I don’t think too hard about how knowing every inch of this vessel starts with the captain’s quarters. He’s not flirting with me, is he? He gives me the most brilliant smile, his blue eyes shining in the early evening light. I have to look away. I duck my head into his room, a good-sized cabin. Even for a captain. I’m not going to hold out hope that the crew quarters in the belly are as good, though.

I have to get out of his room. The scent is amazing. Whatever his cologne is, it’s definitely better than two charter seasons ago when the captain thought being at sea meant not taking showers.

A little wave and I run down the interior stairs. Leaving his space makes me feel empty. It’s cozy with the dark tones.

Now for the fun part of exploring the yacht. I open the first door.

I’m not attracted to my captain. I’m not attracted to my captain.

Damn, I’m so attracted to my captain.

My body whips around the corner to what I assume will be the main salon or a hallway to the main galley, but instead I run smack into a hard surface. A hard surface that towers over me.

“I’m Haley,” I stammer at him as his hand circles my waist to keep us both from tumbling over.