Captain’s Orders (The Maiden Voyage #3)

Chapter 1

DANI

The morning had that particular quality of Florida light that made everything look like a photograph—the kind of saturated colors that promised heat by noon.

Dani and her two freelancers had been up since six, checking staterooms, arranging flowers, and making sure every surface gleamed.

Full capacity charter. Twelve guests. No room for error.

Full capacity charters were always more work, but the Whitfields had been easy to communicate with during the planning stage.

It was an anniversary trip for the grandparents, the whole family coming together for a week in the Bahamas.

Sweet, really. The kind of charter that reminded Dani why she loved this job—when it wasn't bachelorette parties with champagne-soaked tantrums and bridesmaids who thought the yacht was their personal Instagram set.

She stood at the base of the gangway with her tray—champagne flutes for the adults, sparkling lemonade with strawberry garnishes for the children.

Captain Jordan stood to her right, hands clasped behind her back.

That Navy posture, as always—spine straight, shoulders squared, chin lifted.

Her service in the Navy had etched itself into Jordan's bones, into the way she held herself, the way she surveyed the dock with those sharp gray eyes.

Dani had spent her charter career learning to read the subtle shifts in Jordan's expression that were the only cracks in an otherwise flawless composure. Right now, Jordan looked calm. Ready.

The rest of the team stood to her left: Zoe, their first mate, scanning the approaching vehicles, Lindsay, their chef, who'd abandoned the galley just long enough for the welcome but kept glancing back toward the stairs as if her soufflés might collapse without supervision, and Rei, their engineer, with her blue hair freshly touched up.

Behind them, Dani's two freelancers, Elsa and Netty, both back after surviving the bachelorette nightmare last week, waited to help with luggage and settling the guests.

The Whitfields arrived in three identical black Range Rovers, and Dani counted heads.

The patriarch emerged first—a tall man in his late sixties with a full head of white hair.

Gerald Whitfield, according to the pictures in the booking system.

He wore pressed chinos and a pale blue oxford, a gold watch on his wrist. Behind him came his wife Patricia, elegant in flowing linen, a silk scarf knotted at her throat.

Forty years of marriage. Dani wondered what that felt like.

Waking up next to the same person ten thousand times and still choosing them.

"Welcome aboard the Maiden Voyage," Captain Jordan said, stepping forward. "I'm Captain Jordan Hayes. Congratulations on your anniversary. We're honored to have you."

"Thank you, Captain." Gerald gave her a firm handshake. "This is my wife Patricia. It's a miracle she still puts up with me."

Patricia rolled her eyes with obvious affection. "Barely. Though I'm hoping a week in the Bahamas might remind me why I married you in the first place."

"The rum punch," Gerald said. "It was definitely the rum punch."

Dani liked them already.

The next Range Rover disgorged a man in his early forties who had Gerald's height and jawline—the son, along with a petite redhead who was his wife.

Three children tumbled out behind them. Olivia, twelve, had earbuds in and looked terribly blasé for a kid about to step aboard a luxury yacht.

The younger two—Emma, ten, and Jack, eight—shoved each other as they ran over the gangplank.

"My son David," Gerald said, gesturing. "His wife Caroline. And the grandchildren—Olivia, Emma, and Jack."

Dani greeted them and moved in with the tray, distributing drinks. Caroline took her champagne gratefully and sighed after taking her first sip. "Please tell me there's more of this on board."

"Plenty," Dani assured her. "And the bar is always open."

"You're my new favorite person."

The children grabbed their sparkling lemonades—Olivia with teenage reluctance, Emma with enthusiasm, Jack with enough force that it sloshed over the rim. Dani caught the drip with a napkin and a smile that didn't waver.

From the last car came the rest of the family: a woman in her late thirties with Patricia's cheekbones—the daughter—followed by a bearded man in board shorts and a polo shirt, and three more children: Tyler, the oldest at fourteen; Noah, six; and little Bea, five, clutching a stuffed elephant and looking at the yacht wide-eyed.

"And this is our daughter Sarah, her husband Mark, and their crew—Tyler, Noah, and little Bea."

"Nana!" Bea released the elephant long enough to throw herself at Patricia's legs. "Nana, are we going to see fishies?"

"So many fishies, sweetheart." Patricia scooped her up. "And maybe dolphins too, if we're lucky."

Then the last Range Rover's door opened one more time.

A young woman stepped out—mid-twenties, dark hair pulled back in a practical bun, wearing sensible flats and carrying a backpack. Her arms were loaded with stuffed toys.

"Oh—and this is Grace. She helps with the kids," Sarah said. "Grace, hurry up, we're boarding."

Dani's smile froze, and she looked at the captain.

Thirteen. Not twelve.

Gerald Whitfield didn't seem to notice anything amiss. He was already admiring the yacht's lines, one hand on Patricia's shoulder, pointing out something on the deck to Bea.

Grace smiled and shook their hands. There were no drinks left on the tray.

"I'll get you a glass," Dani said. "Champagne? Or something else?"

Grace opened her mouth to answer, but Sarah cut in. "Oh, she doesn't drink. She's working."

"Mrs. Brennan," Captain Jordan's voice cut through the moment. "I'm afraid I don't have Grace listed on the charter agreement. The booking was for twelve guests."

Sarah's eyebrows rose. "Was it? I thought we mentioned—" She looked at her husband, who shrugged. Then at her mother, who was occupied with Bea's questions about dolphins. "I'm sure we must have mentioned her. She always travels with us. The little ones are a handful."

"I don't doubt it." Jordan's voice remained pleasant. "Unfortunately, twelve berths means twelve guests. All of our guest accommodations are assigned."

"Well." Sarah laughed, a little uncomfortably. "Grace can sleep on a sofa or something, can't she? She won't mind." She glanced at the young woman. "Right, Grace?"

"Sure," she said. "Whatever works."

What else was she supposed to say? Actually, I do mind being treated like an afterthought? She couldn't. They all knew she couldn't.

Gerald had turned back now, registering that something had stalled the boarding process. "What's the holdup?"

"An issue with the guest count, Mr. Whitfield," Jordan said. "We have twelve berths and thirteen guests."

"Thirteen?" Gerald frowned, then spotted Grace, and understanding dawned. "Ah. The nanny. Sarah, didn't you tell them about Grace?"

"I thought Mark did."

"I thought you did," Mark said.

It bothered Dani that they talked about Grace like she wasn't standing three feet away. Like she was a scheduling conflict rather than a person.

"Does it matter who thought what?" Gerald said. "She's here now. Surely there's somewhere she can sleep. A couch, a—what do you call it—a daybed somewhere?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Jordan said. "Maritime safety regulations require all passengers to have a designated berth. I can't legally sail with thirteen people if I only have twelve assigned berths."

Silence. The Whitfield adults exchanged glances—that quick family semaphore of who's going to handle this? Nobody looked at Grace.

The other children, oblivious to the tension, were already exploring the yacht, and Dani heard Zoe redirecting them away from something.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" Gerald asked. "That we leave Grace behind? She's essential. Six children, Captain. Six."

"I understand the difficulty—"

"But we need Grace." Gerald sighed, looking a little panicked now. "We've paid a considerable amount for this charter. There must be a solution."

Patricia lowered Bea back to the deck and put a hand on Gerald's arm. "Gerald."

"No, Pat. We're talking about one person. One." He turned back to Jordan. "What about your crew quarters? Surely there's a spare bunk somewhere down there. I'll pay extra. Double the rate for the extra person. Whatever it takes."

Dani held her breath. Crew quarters were their sanctuary—the only space on the yacht that belonged to them.

The tiny cabin she shared with Lindsay, with its narrow bunks and books and the photos taped to the wall.

The thought of a guest, even a nice one, wasn't pleasant and besides, with their freelancers on board, there were no crew berths free.

Jordan was silent for a beat, weighing the charter fee against the intrusion, the client's satisfaction against her crew's boundaries.

"I'll need to speak with my crew before I can commit," she said.

"Dani, Lindsay, can I have a moment with you?

" She turned to the freelancers. "Elsa, Netty, will you please show the guests the lounge? We won't be long."

Elsa and Netty guided the Whitfields inside and Grace followed, still clutching the stuffed animals.

Jordan waited until the guests were out of earshot, then turned to Dani and Lindsay.

"Before you say anything, hear me out," she said. "I have a pull-out bed in my cabin. One of you can sleep there, and the other shares with Grace in your cabin."

Lindsay's eyebrows shot up. "So we're giving up our privacy for the nanny they forgot to mention?"

"Wait—I hadn't finished," Jordan continued. "Gerald Whitfield will be charged nine thousand dollars for the extra guest. That's the standard fee. Take off a thousand for food and beverage and that extra fee gets split between the two of you. That's four thousand dollars each on top of your tip."

Dani and Lindsay exchanged a glance and Lindsay's whole demeanor changed. She straightened, eyes widening. "Four thousand? Each?"

"Each."

"Okay. I'll share with the nanny," Lindsay said without hesitation. "Done. Absolutely."

Dani bit back a smile. She'd never seen Lindsay pivot so quickly in her life. "I guess that means I'm with you, then," she said, turning to Jordan.

Jordan studied her. "You're sure? It's five nights. I know it's not ideal."

"It's fine. Really." Dani shrugged, aiming for casual.

"Okay." Jordan nodded. "As long as you're comfortable with the arrangement."

"I am if you are."

Something flickered across Jordan's face, too quick for Dani to read. "Good. Then it's settled. I'll speak to Gerald about the fee. Lindsay, back to the galley—we're behind schedule. Dani, get everyone settled."