Chapter Nine Lucky
Chapter Nine
Lucky
While I was distributing drinks, Mrs. Carmine thanked me and then said, “My friend Irene has a hankering for some homemade vanilla ice cream and I was hoping you could arrange that for us. She prefers it over store-bought.”
I kept my features even, trying not to react. “Of course. I’ll get the chef right on that for you.”
But I knew what Andre would do when I told him. He was currently in the midst of creating a charcuterie board and vegetable and fruit trays for the guests to snack on. He wouldn’t be happy about having to make ice cream because he hated disruptions to his routines. He liked things to be fairly predictable.
I’d never understood why he’d gone into yachting, which was the total opposite of predictable. You never knew from one hour to the next what was going to happen or what the guests would require from you.
When I got to the galley, I let Andre know about the request in a very calm tone. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, which I knew meant that he was displeased, but thankfully, he didn’t yell or throw any pans. I counted that as a win.
“You can take those upstairs,” he said, pointing at the trays he’d prepared. Every single one looked like a work of art. I radioed Georgia and asked her to come help me so that we could bring all the serving trays upstairs at the same time.
The chef pulled the eggs out of the walk-in to start the base for the ice cream. He might have slammed the door a bit harder than was necessary but again, all things considered, it could have been much worse.
Georgia helped me with the trays, which the guests oohed and aahed over. I told Mrs. Carmine, “The chef is working on the ice cream and I will bring it up as soon as it is ready.”
“Take your time, dear.”
Then my afternoon turned into running back and forth from the deck to the galley to update the Carmines on Andre’s progress. I offered multiple times to refresh their drinks or to bring them more snacks but they always demurred. As those hours went by, we reached our anchorage point and the entire boat trembled slightly as the crew lowered the anchor into the water.
I wondered if Hunter was helping them.
Not long after that Andre announced that he was done and served me up a bowl of vanilla ice cream with whipped cream and caramel lace tuile. I knew it killed him to not do something extra or over the top for the presentation, but it was already more than enough for a last-minute and unexpected request.
When I got to the sundeck with the ice cream, I noticed that all of the female guests were at the stern of the boat, staring down. I went over to join them.
What had they seen? A dolphin? A whale? Sightings like that were rare in this area of the Mediterranean but it wasn’t unheard of.
Not a marine mammal. They were staring at Hunter.
Who had his shirt off.
He was setting up the floating deck so that the guests could use the Jet Skis and other water toys.
One of the women sighed and I completely understood. I had only glimpsed paradise last night when I’d seen the barest hint of his shoulders. But this?
I had been admitted to the promised land and it was Hunter Smith’s glorious chest.
It was like watching a masterpiece come to life, every muscle and sinew moving and flexing, the strength on display making me feel a bit woozy.
I fanned my face with my free hand. He was making me overheated.
He had to put his shirt back on. He was going to give these poor women a heart attack.
He was going to give me a heart attack.
Plus, it was against the rules. Thomas and Francois must have been setting up the waterslide or else they would have told him it wasn’t allowed. I was the only person who could tell him to cover up.
I wished that I could yell at him from here because it would be much safer with all this distance and these elderly people at my side to keep my piping-hot libido in check. But I couldn’t make a scene in front of the guests.
“Ice cream!” I announced, and Irene reached for it without taking her gaze off Hunter. I glanced over at their husbands, who sat on the couches in the shade and wondered what they thought about this. I gave her the bowl and then turned immediately to go down the stairs that led to the back of the ship.
“Hunter!” I hissed his name, worried about getting too close because there was every possibility that my hands might have minds of their own and wind up on his chest.
“Lucky! To what do I owe this honor?”
Then, to my horror, he came over to where I was standing, so close that I could see every freckle, every vein, every blond hair on his tanned chest.
I felt dizzy.
“Why is your shirt off?” That wasn’t what I meant to say. I intended to reprimand him but it was like my mouth was trying to delay the moment that he put his polo back on for as long as was humanly possible.
He shaded his eyes so that he could look at me. “Because it’s five hundred degrees out here.”
“Ship rules. You can’t take your shirt off.” To the dismay of the female half of the Carmine party.
And myself.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. You need to put it on. We have to keep our entire uniform on whenever we’re on charter.”
He grabbed his polo from where he’d left it and seemed to be moving in slow motion. So much so that I was worried I was about to do something reckless. “Please hurry, we have an audience.”
Hunter glanced up at the gathered women and waved. I couldn’t be sure but I thought I heard someone giggle in response.
“Aren’t we supposed to be making the guests happy?” he asked, still moving at a maddening pace that had the effect of making my heart rate triple.
“Yes, but not by flashing them.”
“I’m not flashing anyone,” he said and then finally, finally put his shirt back on. I let out a deep breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Well, that’s not fun,” I heard someone say above us, and I completely understood her disappointment. Him putting his shirt back on was like throwing a tarp over a museum-quality painting.
“Lucky, are your cheeks a little pink?” he asked.
My hands went to my face. Why did he notice everything? “Like you said, it’s hot out here,” I finally managed to say.
His grin let me know that he did not believe my explanation.
Nor should he.
“Well, thanks for giving me a stern talking-to,” he said. “Get it? Because we’re in the stern of the ship?”
“I got it,” I said quickly.
“I’m sorry for being such a pain in the boat.”
“What did I tell you about the puns?”
He glanced up, like he was trying to recall just what I’d said. “That you love them and I should share them as often as possible?”
Despite the fainting spell I was fighting off, that made me smile as I shook my head. I wanted to stay here. To keep talking to him and hear what new nautical pun he might come up with. I couldn’t linger, though. His chest being covered up would hopefully make it easier for me to leave. “I should get back to work.”
He nodded. “Me too. Tell the Carbombs I said hi.”
“That’s not funny,” I told him. “You’re going to slip and do that for real and people don’t like it when you don’t remember their names.”
“If I have to explain to you why it is funny, I would be happy to. I can cite references if you’d like. I would include the fact that I’ve made you both smile and laugh, which is enough evidence that what I’m saying is correct.”
“That’s not evidence,” I sputtered. I did think he was funny. He amused me. I wanted to hear what inane thing he would say next, and that was bad because humor was one of the main things I looked for in a man.
I couldn’t be considering Hunter that way.
“It is evidence. Good enough for a court of law. The judge would rule in my favor.” Why did I like his teasing so much?
“I have to get back to work,” I repeated, as if it were some kind of magical phrase that would make my feet move away from him when they didn’t want to. I had a job to do, guests to check on who had paid a lot of money for me to be at their beck and call.
They weren’t paying for me to ogle my bunkmate.
Thomas’s footsteps on the stairs behind me got me to finally move. “Hunter, come help me unload the water toys.”
I brushed past the bosun and made my way back to the upper deck. The women were just where I’d left them, still watching Hunter.
Irene handed me her bowl of ice cream. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get a chance to eat it in time.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I said immediately. “Would you like more?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said.
I took the bowl back down to the galley to be washed.
I looked down at the soupy mess.
Me and the ice cream. Both of us completely melted because of Hunter.