Chapter 6
DYLAN
A s soon as the wheels touched the tarmac, I ripped my damp hand out of Max’s, and slid on my sunglasses and my baseball cap. With my usual mask in place, I faced him again. I wanted to thank him for his kindness, but I choked on the words.
I hated forgetting my lines.
So I did what I normally did in these types of circumstances and made light of the situation.
“You’re good at keeping panicked flyers calm. If the teaching gig doesn’t work out, you can always try psychology.”
Max smiled. “I made an exception this one time because I didn’t want you to puke all over me. Trust me, no one would ever accuse me of being sensitive to others.”
I grinned in return, thankful that he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it.
It was odd, though. I’d grabbed hold of his hand like a lifeline, and I hadn’t even tried treading water first. With a few exceptions, it was out of character for me to reach out to anyone—especially when I was in distress—since I was fiercely independent.
So much so that my past partners often complained I never let them in.
Was that another sin I had to atone for?
Shaking off my mood, I had one priority before we started our day. I turned off the airplane mode on my phone and texted my sponsor for a check-in. The yacht had a tender that could take me to shore if I needed a meeting, which gave me comfort.
Once that was done, I got up and gathered my things while Max did the same. Annie opened the door, and a bright beam of sunshine filled the cabin, beckoning us outside. I threw my duffle over my shoulder and grabbed the suitcase Annie wheeled out, thanking her for her wonderful hospitality.
Max followed closely, standing behind me as we waited for the okay to head down the stairs. I caught his scent—clean, warm, masculine—and for a second, I let it linger in my lungs.
“You can head down now,” Annie instructed. “Enjoy your stay in France.”
It was a picture-perfect June day—hot, sunny, and with just enough humidity to make you sweat without moving.
We went through the usual customs check-in, and a half hour later we were greeted by our driver at the arrivals gate.
After throwing our luggage in the trunk, we took off down a winding road to the coastline.
Field after field of blooming lavender turned to grassy knolls and glimpses of the sea. I rolled down my window to take a much-needed breath of the briny air, and felt the immediate impact in my body, my pulse slowly ebbing.
A short while later, we pulled into the marina in Nice. No surprise, Now, Voyager was the largest yacht docked, gleaming in the sunshine like the finest pearl. The crew was busy cleaning down the decks, the entire ship bustling with activity.
“Our writing cave awaits.” I pointed to the ship.
His eyes nearly bugged out behind his glasses. “Oh my God, it’s enormous!”
“I told you it was a yacht. What did you expect?”
Max shrugged his shoulders. “Like maybe a quarter of that. You didn’t tell me it was the size of a small city.”
“I better not repeat that to Rowan. He’ll crown himself mayor and make me refer to him as ‘Your Worship.’”
Max chuckled and continued to stare at the ship like he’d never seen one before. “Where are we going to dock?”
“I’ll find out from the captain. Probably only a fifteen-minute tender ride to the nearest marina.”
“Sounds good.”
We pulled up to the dock and the driver helped us unload our luggage.
As we walked up to the plank to board, a pallet with provisions was being hauled onto the ship.
I recognized Captain George Bernard with his gray beard and his crisp uniform, giving directions to his bosun, Charlie. I smiled and gave a wave.
Always a serious expression on his face, George’s demeanor was quiet and polite.
He didn’t socialize much with the guests.
I could sympathize with the good captain, preferring the company of one or two close friends over a crowd any day.
In any case, it was clear from my last visit that the crew respected and admired George.
Apparently, he had only one enemy and that was Rafe, Rowan’s brother. Rafe was the total opposite in temperament, outgoing and flirtatious. I’d missed the angry exchange between those two last Christmas, but I was told by Andrew it was a real showdown.
Who says you need actors around for drama?
“Good morning, Dylan. It’s a pleasure to welcome you on board again. And nice to meet you, Mr. Lowell. I’m Captain George Bernard,” George greeted us in his brisk British manner as we shook hands.
“Max, please. And I’ve never seen such a magnificent ship in my life,” Max replied as he gazed up at the bow. Awestruck, if his wide gaze and open mouth were anything to go by.
“I count myself a fortunate man. I hope you enjoy your time with us.”
Max nodded. “I’m sure I will, thanks.”
George checked his phone briefly before glancing up.
“All the rooms are ready, so you have your choice. We’ll be loading for another fifteen minutes and ready to leave port in half an hour.
We’ll drop anchor near Les Calanques. Our new chief steward, Jana, is in the galley and ready to assist along with our bosun, Charlie.
Chef Lisette and sous chef Cassie are also at your service.
Any issues, come visit me up in the wheelhouse. My door is always open.”
“Thanks, Captain. Appreciated,” I responded. He nodded at me then Max and turned and headed up to the bridge deck.
I greeted Charlie, who was on board the last time I visited.
After his introduction to Max, he insisted on taking our luggage as we ambled along the plank and onto the lower deck.
The ship was as impressive as I remembered, but I half expected Rowan or Andrew to pop around the corner any minute.
Soon enough. I was starting to miss my friends something fierce.
“You take the main suite on the upper level. It has a private office and balcony. I’ll take one of the guest suites.”
“What if Rowan and Andrew come to visit you?”
“There are still six other rooms, so there’s plenty of space. Andrew insisted.”
“Are you sure? I don’t really need my own office.”
“You’ll need it. After I finish boring you with tales of my life, you can hide up there and work on your other books,” I replied as we entered the interior lounge and made our way to the stairs.
“I thought I was supposed to be shocked by your stories, not bored.”
Shit, I forgot about the warning I had given him.
“I thought so too until last night. My stories are dull compared to some of the scenes you write about.”
A red stain bloomed over Max’s face, and I couldn’t help but take delight at his fluster. I had a feeling he didn’t do that too often. “But I have one surprise that will make for an interesting plot twist.”
“That’s usually in fiction.”
“Not in this case.” I shook my head at him.
“When do you want to start working?” Max asked as we stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase.
“Tomorrow is fine. Feel free to rest this afternoon,” I replied. “There’s a hot tub on the sun deck and plenty of loungers. Your room is one level up, first door on the right. Text me anytime.”
Max nodded and made his way upstairs. Once he was out of sight, I made my way down the long hallway and entered the suite at the end.
After unpacking, I changed into my black board shorts, slapped on my straw cowboy hat, and headed back outside.
My body was in dire need of that hot tub after the long night of travel.
I climbed the outside stairs, enjoying the salty breeze and the heat of the sun.
When I reached the upper deck, I ambled over to the tub, testing the water with my hand.
Like a warm bath, the temperature was perfect.
I slid in, turning on the jets and letting the gentle massaging motion soothe my aching muscles.
Leaning my arms on the side, I let my head drop back.
Between the tub and the motion of the yacht as we left port, I finally relaxed. Until a soft voice spoke up.
“Mr. Aylmer, I’m Jana, the chief steward. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
I turned my head to find a young woman in a with long, dark hair and a kind smile looking expectantly at me.
“Nice to meet you, Jana. And please, call me Dylan,” I greeted her. “Do you have any guava juice?”
“We do. Would you like it served with sparkling water and lime?”
“That would be perfect. And a sandwich? I’m not fussy, anything’ll do.”
“My pleasure. If you need anything while on board, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Jana.”
She headed back down the stairs and I let my head fall back again. I soaked up the warmth of the summer sun on my shoulders and chest and gave a big sigh. I should hit the treadmill instead of lazing about. Tomorrow for sure, or my restless body would revolt.
I’d had plenty of time to myself these last two years and I spent a lot of it working out, exorcising my pain and anxiety.
I’d never been healthier in my entire life.
Here on the yacht they had a fully equipped gym, and we were also surrounded by the Med, the best swimming pool in Europe.
Keeping my active routine would be no problem. But not today.
With the heat of the sun and the water, and the bonus of jet lag, I was starting to feel sleepy. Maybe a quick nap wouldn’t hurt.
“Careful, you’re going to end up with burnt shoulders and shrivelled legs if you fall asleep in that tub.” Max’s voice rang out.
I didn’t move but my whole body stiffened like I was on high alert for danger.
“I rarely burn. And I’m more used to the sun than you are, city slicker,” I replied as I continued to enjoy the intense rays, my bones aching in the very best way.
“All right then, but don’t ask me to rub you down with aloe later on,” he replied.
My eyes popped wide open at that comment.
An image of Max hovering over me and rubbing his hands down my back flickered in my mind like a clip in a movie reel.
I turned to look at him, but he was already stretching himself out on one of the loungers.
For a city boy, he certainly kept himself in good shape.
Long and lean, he had a smattering of dark hair on his chest that tapered over his taut stomach.
As my eyes continued to wander south, all the blood in my body followed suit.
Then I spotted his bathing suit—what there was of it.
Lord have mercy.