by Adams, S. C.
“I sold the Mississippi cruise line to a bigger company fifteen years ago, after ten years of doing it. For two years before I sold, I used all of the profits from the Mississippi line to fund a new ship, an ocean liner, to start up that side. It was ready to go when the sale went through.”
“What was that first cruise like?”
He laughs. “It was kind of terrible, to be honest. Caribbean cruises are entirely different than river cruises. It took over a year for me to figure things out. Once I did, though, things took off.”
“How many ships do you have in your fleet now?”
“Twenty-three. We’re looking to add more in the next five years, but we’ve hit some red tape with what we want to do. I told you about the one new one, with the go-karts and stuff? That took forever to get permits. The next one is going to be even bigger, if we can get the right permits to do it.”
“That’s crazy. You’ve literally started from the bottom, and now you’re here.”
Carter laughs again. “I guess so. When my river line started to get more and more successful, a few papers called it a real life rags-to-riches story. I just took a chance on a raggedy old boat.”
“It really is a Cinderella story.”
“Is that lame?”
I squeeze his arm gently. “It’s not lame at all. You found something you love to do, and you made a serious business out of it.”
“Thanks. It’s definitely worked out well for me. I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if I hadn’t bought that boat twenty-five years ago.”
“I’m glad you did,” I say.
“Me, too.” He bends over and kisses me lightly on the lips, surprising us both. “You know, I never ended up finishing college.”
This makes me laugh.
“With all of your business experience, you could probably get an honorary degree.”
“I have one of those, actually.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you do. You could probably have one in every state if you wanted.”
“I wouldn’t say that. It was pretty cool to get a degree, though – especially since I got one without having to sit in the classroom. My parents are definitely proud. They were pissed when I quit school to run a cruise ship. They’re over it now; they still invite me to Thanksgiving dinner and everything. It just took some time for them to see that I could make a go of being a businessman without four years at the University of North Florida.”
“It’s good they came around to the idea.” Time to change the subject again. We’re getting close to an awkward silence, and I don’t want that to happen. “So, where do your cruises go?”
“The first one was just the Caribbean. It left from Miami and went to Jamaica, Grand Cayman, and the Florida Keys. It was a good itinerary to start with because there’s tons to do in every port. We were able to offer a lot of exclusive excursions.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Jamaica.”
“You should go sometime,” he says. “They have these corn bread things there that are incredible. And the jerk chicken? You’ll be ruined on food forever. Nowhere has better food than Jamaica.”
My stomach rumbles quietly, but Carter doesn’t notice. Thankfully. “You’ve sold me. Jamaica is now number one on my must travel list.”
“You know, we have a cruise that goes there, this summer in fact.”
Is he telling me this because he’ll be there or because he wants more of my money to go to his line? I would ask, but the dealer declares the break is over, and I have to give my seat back to the guy actually playing.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell Carter, hoping my voice comes out flirtatious instead of confused. I give his arm one last squeeze when I stand up. The fabric on the chairs keeps my legs from sticking despite the island humidity. We’re inside, and even with the air conditioning, I’m still sweating through my dress.
Carter looks totally at home surrounded by his rich comrades, but there’s something different about his posture when he’s playing poker. He’s serious, almost tensely so. But not in a bad way. He just looks like he fits in with the other people at the table.
With me, he’s different. When he was telling me the whole story of his cruise line, he seemed so relaxed. He let his guard down. He fits in with these other rich guys, but it’s almost an act. Or it’s something he has to consciously put effort into.
I like that he doesn’t have to put effort into talking to me.
As I watch Carter playing poker, something he said earlier hits me. He started his first cruise line at twenty, and that was twenty-five years ago. That makes Carter forty-five now. I knew he was older, but I didn’t realize the gap between us was so large.
I’m only twenty-seven. The age difference is intimidating, but my heart doesn’t seem to care. I’m really starting to like this guy, and it’s only been a day.
Carter wins another hand and glances back to share his smile with me. I return it without hesitation.
Who cares if I was only two years old when he started his business?
He’s here with me right now, and that’s all that matters.
9
Carter
What was I thinking going on about my business with Abby? She seemed interested enough, but she was probably just being polite.
At least her questions didn’t revolve around how much money I have. The first few times I brought a guest down to my suite, I had to deal with awkward pillow talk about the millionaire lifestyle. And that was before I’d crossed the threshold to billionaire. I shut that down pretty quickly by shoving women out before it got to the talking part.
With Abby, I want the talking. I can never get enough of her talking.
A bell chimes somewhere from the heart of the island casino. “That signals the end of round two,” the dealer says. “We will reconvene in fifteen minutes.”
The two guys left at my table grumble and wander off. Their chip stacks have dwindled to pretty much nothing. They’ll be out by the end of the next round for sure.
Abby takes the seat next to me without prompting this time. She carefully sets her drink down on the table, avoiding the guy’s miniscule chip pile.
“You’re amazing at poker,” she says, studying my chips. “I know I said that before, but it’s so true. You’re killing these guys. They probably want to kill you.”
“Probably. I have security for that, though.”
Her eyes widen. “Do you have a bodyguard or something?”
Abby scans the room, looking for the secret service. “No,” I say. “Nothing that severe. But there’s security throughout the casino and all over the island.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“No, no. I might have thought about how cool it would be to be in a Bond movie for a minute, but I think it’s better you don’t have private security. I’d hate to think what he or she would have to witness.”
I hope she’s thinking about last night because that’s where my mind is, too. If I did have a bodyguard, I’d send them away the second we got to my room. No one else needs to witness what goes on in my bedroom.
“You’re a fan of Bond?”
“I used to watch the movies with my dad when I was younger. That’s what made me buy this dress if I’m being honest.”
That gives me the perfect opportunity to check her out. Her long, gorgeous legs are tucked under the poker table, but her chest is there for the admiring. The dress leaves enough to the imagination to keep it decent, but it shows off her neck and shoulders. The red looks amazing against her creamy skin. I bet she’d look good in any color. Or no color at all.
“Tell me about yourself,” I say. “I spent all last break droning on about my business, and I know nothing about you.”
“I didn’t mind. I like hearing you talk about your passion.”
Her genuine tone makes my heart swell. Even my parents are sick of hearing about the business at this point. Hell, I think the board is the only entity in heari
ng me rant and rave about my ships at this point.
“I’m glad, but now I want to know about you. What do you do?”
“Well, I’m a CPA. I have a master’s degree in Accounting, and I’ve been at this firm for five years now – since my last semester in college when I passed the CPA exam. I actually just got a pretty good promotion when one of the other accountants left and I took over his clients.”
I try to picture the Abby I know sitting behind a desk. True, I’ve known her for less than twenty-four hours, but she doesn’t seem like the kind of person who likes to be in a chair from nine to five. She’s kind of shy, but I see the way she keeps eyeing the beach outside the panoramic window of the casino. It’s the look of a woman who loves the water, who would always rather be outside.
“What got you into accounting?”
She shrugs. “Would you believe me if I told you it was an eighth grade aptitude test?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
“Good because it’s true. I’ve always been really good at math. In middle school, they had us do this test about the things we like doing to tell us what we should study when we eventually got to college. The questions were mostly practical things, so I chose the ones that made most sense, usually the ones about enjoying math or problem solving. The test said I should be an accountant, so I took all of the right classes in high school, went to college, and now, here I am.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who let a test decide their future.”
Abby’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Honestly, I had no idea what I wanted to do in eighth grade, or even by senior year. All of my friends had a clear vision of their futures, but I just wanted to sit on the beach solving quadratic equations. It made sense to listen to that silly test instead of flounder in school until I figured out what I wanted to do.”
“Well, are you happy being an accountant?”
“I’m not unhappy,” she hedges. “It’s a good job with amazing pay. I get to stay near my family in Miami and work relatively normal hours. I’ll probably be putting in overtime to catch up on Emmett’s old caseload, but once I’m familiar with all of the new clients, it’ll be back to nine to five, with only the occasional weekend added in.”
“But you don’t love it,” I say.
She bites her lip. I want to lean forward and bite it for her. “No, I don’t love it. I’m good at it, but it’s not my passion.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “And what is your passion?”
Abby’s eyes dart back to the ocean view once more. “It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s okay, Abby. You can tell me; I won’t judge you.” I squeeze her shoulder for reassurance, letting my fingertips linger against her soft skin.
“I love the water,” she admits after a long pause. “When I was a senior in high school, my parents let me skip school one day. They took me to the beach. There was a place there where you could learn to scuba dive, and my parents agreed to let us try it. The company took us out on a boat away from shore and taught us the basics. We didn’t go deep or anything, but we got to see the amazing life underwater just off the coast of our town. It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced. At that moment, I decided I wanted to be a scuba instructor. But that wasn’t a practical job choice, and I’d already been accepted to school as an accounting major.”
“I’ve been scuba diving a few times. I got certified a few years after we started the ocean cruise line. I get what you mean. There’s nothing like being underwater.”
She looks longingly out the window once again.
“I’ve gone scuba diving over fifty times already, and I’m certified. Part of me was bitter that it would never be my job, so I avoided the formal certification process until last year. It’s a little sad, really. I kept dilly-dallying and between the stress of my job and all sorts of other things, I kept putting it off. Finally, I couldn’t though. Something in my heart just kept telling me this was right, so I went back to my first diving school and asked if they could help me with my certification. Fortunately, they were really nice and the instructors walked me through the process and made sure I stayed on track. The certificate now sits in a folder at my house, taunting me, actually. Opening my own scuba training company is my dream, and that certification was the first step to getting there, but I haven’t done anything more. Maybe someday, I’ll take the dive,” I chuckle morosely.
“You should do it,” I say. “Look at me. If I hadn’t followed my passion, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
“That’s true. But honestly, I’m not you. Who would want to take scuba lessons from a chubby girl like me? I’m lucky I got clearance from my doctor to go through with the certification.”
I rake my eyes over her fantastic body. “What are you talking about? You’re gorgeous.”
She rolls her deep brown eyes. “You’re just saying that. I know I’m a bigger girl. Scuba instructors are usually skinny because diving is an extreme sport. I’m a really good swimmer, though. We had a pool in the backyard growing up, and I used to do laps every morning before school, even when I was in elementary school. But that doesn’t matter. One look at me, and clients will want to go elsewhere.”
I stroke her shoulder gently. “I think you’re wrong. People will surprise you.”
Abby shakes her head. “The worst part is, water is where I feel most comfortable. I’m weightless out there.”
“You can do it, Abby. I believe in you. You should at least take the next steps in being certified as an instructor.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It all sounds great in theory, but I’d be crazy to quit my job for the possibility of opening a scuba business.”
“Hey, look at me! People told me I was crazy when I quit school and bought a river boat, and now I’m rich. You never know what might happen.”
Abby smiles, but it’s strained. “Thanks, Carter. I’ll think about it.”
I want to keep telling her to go for her dream, but the dealer comes back to the table, signaling the start of the next round. Abby moves back to her standing position behind me. Her absence leaves a cold feeling throughout my body, and she’s only a few feet away.
I’ve really got it bad for this girl already.
The dealer tosses our cards, and I check my hand. A ten and a jack, different colors and suits. Not bad. I stay in when the dealer asks. The flop shows a seven, a nine, and another jack. When the guy next to me goes all in, I call. The turn is a ten. We both call. The river is an eight. Another excellent hand for me.
The other guy shows his cards first. An eight and a king. Not a bad hand, but mine is better with two pairs and a flush.
He huffs as his chips are pushed toward me. The guy walks away angry, but I’m not worried about him. I’ve seen him around at other tournaments like this. He’s probably got just as much money as I do burning a hole in his pocket.
The dealer pauses our game to consolidate tables. Out of twenty-five original players, only four remain. The other two, a guy and a woman, join our table.
After a few more hands, the two guys are out, leaving just me and the woman. She goes all in on a hand and loses, making me the big winner of the tournament.
Abby claps excitedly behind me, earning her a dirty look from all of the losers who have gathered around to watch the final hands. She throws her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. “You were incredible.”
“Thanks, babe,” I say easily. My eyes widen at the term of endearment, but neither of us points it out. “You ready to check out the island?”
Her eyes brighten. “Yes! I can’t wait to see it.”
“I was thinking that tomorrow, we’ll be in the Bahamas, and there are a bunch of shore excursions. Are you signed up for any?”
“No. The girls and I just planned on visiting a public beach or something.”
“How about you and I go scuba diving?”
“Seriously?” she squeaks. “Oh my God, I’d love to! Caitlyn and Jessica aren�
�t really into getting more than just their toes in the water. I couldn’t convince them to go with me, and I wasn’t about to go by myself.”
“Well, now you can go with me.”
Abby looks so excited that I can’t stop myself from planting a tender kiss on her parted lips.
“Let’s go exploring,” I suggest, holding out my hand. She takes it and follows me out the door, finally getting to see the beach she’s been staring at all afternoon.
If only I had a camera to capture the moment when she first laid her eyes on the clear blue water lapping the white sand. I would have the photo framed and hung on my wall.
Abby looks at the beach like it’s the one thing in the world she truly loves. I can’t help but hope that someday she will look at me the same way.
10
Abby
When I’m in the water, I’m free.
Surrounded by waves and wildlife is the only place that I truly feel at home. I don’t have to hide any part of myself when I’m bobbing in the ocean. The deep blue Caribbean Sea doesn’t care how much I weigh; it’ll let me stay on the surface or sink deep below if that’s what I want to do.
“You’re a natural,” Carter says, the words muffled by his face mask. “I can see why you’d want to make this your job.”
At least someone else sees it. Sometimes I worry that my connection with the water is all in my head.
“I’ve never been comfortable on land, but I’ve always been comfortable in the water.”
“That’s obvious just by the way you’re floating. You’re one with the waves.”
I smile at the thought. He might just be placating me or buttering me up so that I’ll give him something good later, but I don’t care. I’ll take any compliment he wants to give me, especially when it’s validating my dreams.
“Okay!” a professional diver calls to us. “We’re going to descend now. Are you prepared?”
Carter and I secure our masks and air tanks and give the diver a thumbs up. It’s always good to dive with someone familiar with the area when possible, so Carter hired us a personal tour guide for the afternoon.