Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
PRODUCER
You said there was something electric between them. What do you mean by that?
Bernard chuckles, shakes head as he drinks water before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms over his chest.
BERNARD
I mean, we all should have seen what was coming. Where there is smoke, there’s fire — and those two were fanning the flames from day one.
The main salon exuded opulence, from the high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and a stunning chandelier to the dark mahogany bar with sleek granite countertops. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the view of the marina beyond, natural light flooding the room and warming my already slick neck. Rich, polished wood accents complemented the soft, creamy beige of the sitting area where the crew was now gathered — all of us squished together on one of the couches as we faced Captain Gary and waited for him to kick off our season.
I, of course, sat as far away from Finn as possible.
He was at the edge of the couch opposite me, his arm draped lazily over the armrest and one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. We’d all changed into our polos since arriving, each of us working diligently in our respective areas to get the boat ready for our first charter. But it didn’t matter that he no longer sported a posh button-up or that he’d broken a sweat getting the galley in order.
Even in a stupid red polo with a stained apron around his waist, he was hot.
I hated that fact as much as I hated that I noticed.
My brain still felt like it was short-circuiting at his proximity. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how the hell this had happened.
I was never supposed to see him again.
He was supposed to be in Ireland.
He was supposed to be running some stupid fancy restaurant.
He was supposed to be done with yachting.
He was supposed to be done with me.
I reminded myself — quickly, and with much emphasis — that he was done with me. Just because we’d somehow ended up on the same yacht in the Mediterranean didn’t mean anything had changed.
In fact, it likely only meant that the producers of this show were out for blood when it came to packing their season with drama.
I didn’t know how the hell they knew about us, but judging by the way they’d had cameras trained on my face when he showed up, they weren’t oblivious. I wondered if they’d gone through our Instagrams, if they’d seen photos of us together two years ago — that sunset picture on the beach with his sunburned shoulders and my drunken grin; a crew night out where we were both dressed in all white, his fingers curled around my hip as he kissed my cheek; a quick selfie captured before dinner service, me in my blacks and him in his chef’s jacket, our tongues out and eyes crossed.
I swallowed, the memories scattering like dry leaves caught in the wind — impossible to catch, impossible to ignore.
Had they dug up the past on purpose, piecing together the remnants of what we were to set the stage for what we could be? Or had they simply gotten lucky, striking gold in the form of unfinished business and unresolved tension?
Either way, I knew one thing for certain.
This wasn’t just a coincidence.
It was a setup.
Well, I hoped they didn’t waste all their ammo betting on the fact that I would play into this little game, because I wouldn’t.
I didn’t care that he was here.
I didn’t plan on giving him any more attention than what was absolutely necessary to run the interior.
I was here for me — not for Finn Pearson.
In order, it was him, Gisella, Eli, and Leah on one couch, and then Bernard, Cameron, Palmer and me on the other. Our engineers and first mate — Rocco, Quest, and Liz, who would be excluded from being filmed for the show, the lucky bastards — stood in the corners off to the side, their arms folded, shoulders leaning against the wood- paneled walls.
“Alright,” Captain Gary said, sporting a toothy grin as he spread his arms wide. “Welcome to the Sinking Sun, crew. Are we ready to have a great season?”
We all clapped and did various little hoots and hollers of enthusiasm — mostly at the request of the producers. Bernard and I shared conspiratorial looks when the noise died down, both of us making fun of the situation. I already knew he’d be my drinking buddy come crew night out, and I couldn’t wait.
My eyes flicked to Finn then, and my next breath shuddered in my chest when I realized his were already fixed on me. It was like a car crash, the way my body seized beneath those piercing blue-green eyes.
We watched each other for a long, rib-crushing moment — one that sent me flying back to another time, another version of myself.