Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Lian
This massage is great.
“Isn’t this massage great?” I ask Foster.
The man chuckles. “It is.”
“Thanks, Maya,” I tell my massage therapist, who’s currently demolishing a knot near my shoulder. “Your hands are magic.”
“Happy to help,” she says, sounding it. She gives my shoulder a soft pat once done. “Time to turn over.”
I maneuver onto my back as Maya holds my sheet in the air above me. Once settled, I glance over at Foster, tossing him a quick thumbs up when I find him looking my way. His massage therapist is setting to work on his leg closest to me, and hello, that’s a mighty fine calf.
The two women chuckle, making me realize I miiight have said that last part out loud. Foster is hiding a smile.
“It is nice,” I say, rolling with it.
He mutters a shy, “Thanks.”
By the time our hour-and-a-half session is up, I feel like a warm noodle. I thank Maya profusely, making a mental note to leave both women a big tip up front. When they step from the room, it’s just me and Foster and some sort of chiming music that reminds me of the mountains, for some reason.
“That was seriously great,” I say, swinging my legs down off the table. I realize a second too late that I probably should have gone the other way to avoid flashing my junk at Foster. Not a problem. I pull the sheet free, wrapping it around my waist. “What do you want to do after—”
My this turns into a squawk as I trip over the sheet wrapped around my legs and go sprawling. I fully expect to hit the floor, but, somehow, Foster is there, grabbing me before I can get anywhere.
I stare at him, wide-eyed, as I realize he’s nude. Catching me caused his sheet to fall away, which means the only thing between us is a single layer of silky soft cotton.
I think I squeak.
Foster clears his throat, making sure I’m upright and stable before walking to the chair that’s holding our clothes. I try not to stare. I really, truly do.
Sorta.
But biscuits, the man has a nice ass.
He quickly tugs on his underwear before passing my clothes over. I take them with a thanks, the silence between us stretching as I contemplate how inappropriate it would be to toss a flirt or two at my cruise companion to see if anything sticks.
In the end, I decide I should wait for any sort of signal that Foster might be open to that kind of attention. We do have to share a bed for the next thirteen nights, after all. Getting turned down on day one might make that experience mildly mortifying.
After dropping a tip at the front counter, Foster and I head back to our cabin. We both down a glass of water, the sun lower in the sky now as we close in on evening.
“Want to pick a place for dinner while I shower?” I ask. “Unless you want to go first?”
“Go ahead,” Foster tells me, sitting at the edge of our bed and picking up the packet with our dining options.
I leave him to it and shuffle inside the bathroom.
My drying underwear are hanging from the shower curtain bar, so I tug them down, leaving the lot in a pile.
I’m not going to wear them anyway, not without a thorough wash.
I’m fairly certain the cruise ship offers laundering, but I don’t worry about it right now.
I find Foster’s shampoo that he left out for me beside his toiletries bag, turn on the shower, and get myself clean.
When I come out, Foster is glancing somewhat warily out the window. He shoots me a tiny smile, eyes running down my body quickly.
I perk, but his voice is even when he asks, “My turn?”
“All yours,” I answer. “I like your shampoo, by the way. Smells nice.”
His eyes swing to my hair, something in his gaze I’m not sure how to read. Satisfaction, maybe? In the end, he offers another brief smile before walking past me into the bathroom, a few clothing items tucked under his arm.
I blow out a breath and flop down on the bed. A single rose petal flies out from under the pillow, and I pick it up, turning the delicate red flower over and over between my fingertips.
Shaking my head, I toss the flower petal into the small trash compartment beside the bed, putting thoughts of Kevin firmly out of view.
Foster chooses a restaurant near the port side of the ship, a full bank of windows providing a view of the slowly encroaching sunset. Tea light candles flicker along the tabletops, the ambient lights set low as we’re led back to an open table.
“I didn’t realize it’d be this intimate,” Foster whispers, our hostess retreating.
“I don’t mind,” I tell him, thinking he looks even more handsome with candlelight playing across his features, fake or not. I keep the thought to myself. Just. “What are you going to order?”
“Steak, I think,” he says, perusing the menu.
I nod. “Just let me know if you plan on kissing me before the night is over so I can avoid seafood.”
Foster’s eyes rise to mine, wide.
“Kidding,” I say quickly, chuckling into the silence. “Totally kidding.”
Our waiter arrives, setting a small plate down between us with a rose-shaped pad of butter, followed by a basket of bread. He takes our drink order before leaving.
“This is nice,” I say, reaching for a knife to spread the butter.
Of course, I end up knocking my water glass with my elbow, the drink precariously close to spilling before Foster manages to grab it.
Not having expected his quick reflexes, I can only watch in horror as the end of the butter knife I’m clutching collides with the back of Foster’s hand in my haste to catch the glass. “Oh my God.”
The knife clatters to the table as I grab hold of him, nearly causing my drink to spill again. I roll his hand in my palm, checking both sides, looking for the horrible flesh wound I just know is there.
“Lian,” Foster says, his voice light. “I’m fine.”
“I stabbed you,” I tell him, running my thumb over his smooth skin.
“It was a very blunt knife,” he says calmly, his blue eyes carrying no hint of the same panic I’m feeling when I bring my gaze to his.
I whoosh out a breath, my heart going a mile a minute. “I’m so sorry for dragging you aboard a seafaring nightmare filled with crabs and then nearly driving a knife through your hand. If you want to get off at the next port, I’ll arrange for your travel home.”
Foster merely smiles. “You didn’t drag me anywhere. I came willingly.” My brain blips. “And avoiding seafood is something I do all the time. It’s no problem, truly. Nor is the very minor attempt at stabbing. Not that that’s something I’m all that accustomed to.”
“I promise I won’t stab you again,” I tell him solemnly, his hand still tight in my grip. “Unless you ask me to.”
A beat of silence passes.
“I don’t mean that in a gory way! I mean, like…” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “A sexual way. Which, holy cheeses, I’m making it worse.”
Foster chuckles, his right cheek dimpling.
I fan my face, feeling lightheaded from both his near death experience and the unique musculature of his face. “Is, uh, that dimple genetic? Because I’ve always wanted a kid with dimples.”
Foster’s eyebrow rises. Slowly.
Luckily, I’m saved by the waiter returning to take our order. I drop Foster’s hand, asking for lobster so I’m not tempted to try to heroically save Foster’s face with my own at any point in the evening. Except…
“Oh no. What if you need mouth-to-mouth?”
Foster stops spreading butter on his bread to look at me. “Pardon?”
“It’s fine. It’s fine,” I assure him. “There are surely medical professionals on board. Is everything fuzzy, or is it just me?”
“Lian, breathe,” Foster says, giving my arm a squeeze. “You all right?”
“Fine,” I eke out. “I’m used to being a walking death trap. I just didn’t realize how terrible it’d feel to be on the other side of things. I owe Bailey an apology.”
“Bailey?” Foster asks, passing me a buttered piece of bread I readily accept.
“My best friend. He’s very worried when it comes to you, by the way. Bailey is a worrier. Which… I think I’m starting to understand why.”
Foster hums. “He loves you.”
“Yeah,” I agree, remembering I still haven’t updated Bailey since boarding the ship.
I pull out my phone, typing out a quick message to assure my friend I haven’t been taken captive and thrown overboard by some unknown to us yet notorious cruise killer I unwittingly brought with me on vacation.
“I knew you wouldn’t be the cruise killer. ”
For some reason, Foster doesn’t look reassured by my statement. “Is that…a thing?”
“Oh, our food!”
I send off my text to Bailey just as our waiter sets steaming plates in front of us. I smile happily, glad Foster can be in the same radius as seafood because this lobster smells divine.
We eat our food as the sun sinks below the horizon, the sky filled with reds and yellows that reflect off the water before everything settles into deep, dark blue.
The cruise ship stays lit, of course, making our short walk back to our cabin easily traversed.
Foster doesn’t complain about my grip on his shirt sleeve, and that woman that tried to herd Foster away from me earlier doesn’t show.
Which is good. I’m keeping an eye out for her.
“Oh my God,” I mumble. “Maybe she’s the cruise killer.”
“No, really,” Foster says as I unlock our door. “Is that a thing?”
I let out a sigh as we step into the room, the gentle lights of the ship outside our window making it easy to move around without bumping into anything. Foster doesn’t seem inclined to turn on the overheads, so I don’t bother either, but I do flick on the lamp beside our bed.
“Do you have a side?” I ask him, tossing back the covers. “Not that we need to go to bed right away. It’s pretty early still.”
“I usually sleep on that side,” he says, pointing to the far end from where I am. “But I’m not picky.”
“No, that’s perfect.” I flop down onto the mattress, the feel of the ship moving through the water a gentle sway I find comforting. “It’s a good thing you don’t get seasick on top of everything else, huh? Wait, you don’t, right?”
“No,” Foster says with a soft chuckle, lying down in the spot next to me, both of us fully clothed. “At least I haven’t yet. I did bring meds just in case.”
“Have you ever been on a boat before?”
He hums shortly. “Not unless you count about ten seconds on an unmoving pontoon before I flipped out and had to be carried back to shore. I’m fine in pools, and I’ve even gone to water parks. It’s just…oceans. Lakes. Any large bodies of water.”
“So this is a big deal,” I point out.
I knew that from what he said before. But this is Foster’s first time staying out on water like this, and he’s doing amazing. Better than amazing.
“I’m going to say something,” I inform him, “and you’re going to take it.”
He eyes me with caution, even more so when I scoot onto my side so I can stare him down, our noses inches apart.
“What you’re doing is incredibly impressive.
You’re incredibly impressive. I know you want to brush that off, but it’s true.
And it’s okay if you get scared. If that happens, tell me, and we’ll come back here until it passes.
Because it will pass. You’re safe here, Foster.
And when you step off this ship again in two weeks, you’re going to realize exactly how far you’ve traveled, even though your destination is right where you started from. ”
“Jesus,” the man says quietly.
“You’ve got this,” I tell him, voice firm. “Yeah?”
He nods against his pillow, watching me carefully.
I grin at him, my chest feeling light. “This is going to be the best vacation ever. Screw Kevins. Screw water. And screw crabs and exploding shampoo. Nothing is going to ruin this for us. I mean, who even needs underwear, am I right?”
Foster chokes a little, his gaze running downward. “Jesus,” he mutters again. “Are you…already going commando?”
“We’re gonna come out of this changed men, Foster. I can feel it.”
I nod to myself determinedly as Foster eyes my pants.
Maybe this cruise won’t be the romantic getaway I planned for. But I have a good feeling it might just end up as something better.