by Avery Flynn
"You seem pretty sure about that, you don't even know where I'm from or what I do or my favorite movie—which is anything staring The Admiral because that ass. Oh my. I'd like to slap that and then give it a little bite." She made a little lion roar and used one hand to claw the air as her focus moved up his body until she got to his face. "I do know you." Raising herself up on her tiptoes, she planted one hand on his chest and leaned in close enough he might get drunk off her fumes. "Were you the guy in that video who did naked trampoline Zumba?"
Okay, that he had not been expecting. He shook his head as he scanned the crowd, looking for something—anything—to distract his inebriated inquisitor. The woman's friend was flirting with both of the bulked up dudes. The people behind them were taking selfie after selfie. He turned and that's when he saw Aubrey walking in through the out door.
"Too bad." The woman let out a disappointed sigh. "That would have been something to recreate. Maybe we can anyway. And then—wait a minute." Her glassy eyes widened with recognition. "I know where I know you from, you're The A—"
"Aubrey!" He yelled, panic making his voice louder than he meant.
"The Aubrey?" The drunk girl hiccuped. "No. that doesn't sound right."
"My friend. Aubrey." He waved the pants thief next door over and when she got close enough, he grabbed her by the hand and yanked her over to his side, sending every silent message of "help me" he could with only his eyes and the squeeze of his hand. "We know each other."
Aubrey fell right into the game, pasting a huge smile on her face and nodding. "He went to college with my big brother. They both were in the same tabletop board game club." She gave the other woman an oh-my-God-right look when the other woman's expression turned skeptical. "Crazy right? We see each other for the first time since that epic two-week long game of Monopoly on a singles cruise."
"Monopoly?" The woman looked from Carter to Aubrey and back again as if she'd never heard of it before. "The kids' game?"
"It's fun for all ages," Aubrey deadpanned.
"That can't be right," the woman said with the kind of stubborn confidence that only the mostly drunk had. "This guy he's got superhero arms. He wouldn't do that."
"There are all sorts of people who are in the tabletop board game world," Aubrey said, taking another step closer to Carter. "You wouldn't believe who’s into it. Totally underground, fight club type of thing. No one can talk about it, but you seem cool so I'll tell you." Aubrey looked around as if she didn't want anyone to overhear. "Ryan Reynolds. Crazy for it."
"Really," the woman gasped.
"Totally." Aubrey nodded and lowered her voice. "But you didn't hear it from me."
The other woman mimed turning a key in a lock on her lips. Well, that was what she tried to do. What it actually ended up looking like was a woman about to jab herself in the eye with her thumb.
"If I could have your attention," said the cruise ship attendant at the front of their clump of people pulling everyone's attention her way. "The following information will only take a few minutes to hear but could save your good time."
A few people chuckled. Aubrey didn't. She looked a little green.
"Thanks for saving me," he said, realizing that he was still holding her hand.
He let go, his fingers tingling, and the idea—the solution to his undercover problem—hit him like all the best ones do, fully formed and just in the nick of time. "So you know how you owe me for the pants?"
She nodded, her gaze skittering away from him.
"I know just how you can pay me back."
Her eyes rounded.
Fuck. He was an asshole.
"No. Not that." Yeah, he was not trying to have sex with her, especially not to pressure her into it. Damn. It was a good thing he made his living speaking the words other people wrote for him. What he wouldn't do for a quick rewrite and a second take. "I put that the wrong way. I'll explain everything after we get out of here. Okay?"
Thank God getting out of here involved a drink with a teeny-tiny umbrella in it because Aubrey needed some aged in a barrel courage to make it through a face to face with Carter "The Admiral" Hayes without letting on that she knew who he was and that she had ratted him out to the world when he was obviously trying to stay on the down low. It really was a two rum punch with extra cherries guilty kind of moment. When would she learn to think first, act second, and to stop sabotaging herself?
You've only had your whole damn life to figure out that one.
They sat down in a pair of deck lounge chairs on the otherwise empty deck at the front of the ship (The bow? The hull? The lido deck? Like she had any idea). His feet were planted on the deck and he was turned so he faced her, his elbows propped up on his muscular thighs. Whew. It was hard enough not to drool when she was watching him up on the big screen. From less than a foot away there was no denying that the man needed his own forearm porn calendar. And an ass calendar. And a sexy dimples calendar. And—
Focus, Dean!
"So here's the deal." He took a long pull from his beer as if he was gearing up to say something earth shattering. "My name's Carter but my last name isn't Van Steeple, it's Hayes."
In an effort not to flinch at what was coming next, probably something along the lines of "and you ruined my vacation by opening your damn mouth," she took another fortifying drink. That kept her from talking too, she just looked at him over the top of the hot pink drink umbrella with yellow flowers on it as she sucked down half her drink to keep from having to talk.
He cleared his throat, looked around, and then leaned in close. "Carter Hayes." He waited a beat as if expecting her to scream or freak out (too late). "The Admiral." Another pause. "Do you watch movies?"
Only every single one of his an embarrassing number of times.
She nodded but said nothing.
"Okay, you're much cooler about this than people usually are."
Well if by cool he meant utterly petrified into drinking almost an entire rum punch and praying for a giant shark to leap out of the ocean and onto the cruise ship's top deck to eat her in one bite, yeah, she was totally that.
"So, I'm trying not to let folks know who I am." He gestured toward his blond hair. "Dyed my hair, got these glasses, and ditched my normal wardrobe. However, it turns out I need some help making sure everyone knows me as Carter from Iowa."
And this was it, this was when she admitted that she knew who he was and had maybe sorta definitely blown his cover on Instagram. She'd explain that she was sorry and felt like total shit about it. Some of the tension in her shoulders lessened and she relaxed enough to power through the rum punch, which was mostly gone already.
Decision made, she opened her mouth and she fucked it up. Again.
"Why?" she asked.
"It's a long story, but let's just say that someone loves telling the world about me."
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
He was talking about her. Well, about her Insta page. The whole thing had started as a joke, a silly bit of stress relief. She'd never meant for it to have blown up like it had. All of the followers had just sort of happened, and well, he'd seemed so far away, so unreal, so unknowable, that the fact that her super fan page might impact him never even crossed her mind.
He was The Admiral for the love of all things superpowered.
That was then. Now? He was pretty damn real sitting across from her looking like she was the only person between success and failure.
Aubrey's gut clenched and she set her drink down on the little table between their deck chairs. She was such a bitch—also, she had to get downstairs and stand in the line that probably wrapped around the piano bar to sign up for internet so she could take down the post. Before that though, she needed to tell him the truth.
Wow. This is gonna be super fun in the chewing off a limb kind of way.
"If you're in agreement," he continued. "We can just use that perfect bullshit story you came up with for the drunk woman. I'll be your brother's friend from college. It's
perfect. The board game thing was a nice touch. You're the only one on this ship who can help me. I can't risk telling anyone else who I am."
"I can understand that." Loose lips and all that.
"So are you game?" He gave her a hopeful smile that made his dimple appear. "A little backup help? I'll make it worth your time. Just tell me what you want."
The way he looked at her when he asked was a shiv to her guilty conscious. Her chest was tight, the rum punch in her stomach was swirling, and she couldn't stop jiggling her knee. Nerves? Guilt? Shame? How about all of the above.
However, if she deleted the post and helped him out on the cruise she could make up for the trouble she'd caused because she hadn't seen Carter as a person but as a famous dude who'd voluntarily relinquished his privacy. If she did him a solid, fixed things up, then what good would telling him the truth about her do? None. It would just complicate matters since the person he'd confessed his identity to was the last one he'd ever want to. Why shove that in his face?
Hey, Dean, stop projecting. You're the guilty party here.
It was true. And she was a chicken shit. She admitted it all in her head but…well…he'd never have to know the truth. Anyway, when he got off the ship without anyone being the wiser about who he was, he probably wouldn't even care.
Yeah, sure, Dean.
"I'll help," she said, her voice little more than a squeak. "And I don't want anything in return. Really."
"Thank you so much." He clinked his beer against her plastic cup. "You have no idea how much you’re saving my ass. You're the best, Aubrey."
Oh yeah. Definitely. Without a doubt. She was the best shithead on this cruise.
Four
Plate loaded down with enough carbs for a marathon runner, Aubrey scooted in next to Grace at their table in the crowded buffet restaurant and took a sip of coffee. After a million dreams last night all involving Carter and her getting it on—which all ended with her telling him she had been the one who'd told the world he was on board and him denying her an orgasm as punishment—she'd woken up tired, unsatisfied, and desperate for caffeine.
Grace, however, had no fucks to give about any of that judging by the little divot of pissed-off-ness in the middle of her otherwise gorgeously unlined and fully moisturized forehead.
"I meant what I said yesterday," Grace said. "I want my pants back."
No one else said anything. Not a shocker, the pants stealing had been her idea. Liv had even tried—unenthusiastically—to talk her out of it. But the prank was too much fun for Aubrey to deny.
"No clue what you're talking about, and anyway, this is a cruise, live a little." She took another sip of the world’s best no frills coffee. "I'm sure whoever stole your pants will mail them back to your house as soon as we get to port in Orlando."
With a little snort of disbelief, Grace swiped Aubrey's mini chocolate croissant and—while maintaining unblinking eye contact—took a large bite. It reminded Aubrey of watching her gran's bakery cat give her the what-the-fuck-you-gonna-do-about-it glare as she pushed the canister of flour off the counter. Grace was out of pants and fucks apparently, which meant nothing but good things. Aubrey's lips twitched as the giggle built up. She smashed her lips together and tried to stay quiet. It wasn’t gonna work. It never worked. Really, she should know better by now. Lucky for her, Grace was doing the silent chuckle, well, at least her eyes were because her hand was covering her mouth to keep the half-chewed croissant from flying out.
"You're the worst, Aubrey," Liv teased, shaking her head.
"And that's why you love me best of all," she shot back at her best friend from college.
Oh my God, the trouble they used to get in. Unlike her life now, everything then was all late nights, good times, and hot guys. Now she was early mornings, old guys who were regulars at the bakery, and cold brew coffee. But she was done thinking about that for the next six days. Instead, she was just going to bask in the awesome of getting to hang out with Kendall, Liv, Grace, and Benjamin as they enjoyed the eye candy, margaritas, and sunshine. Nothing was going to mess this up.
"There you are!" a man called out in a way-too-cheerful country bumpkin tone.
Shit.
She knew that voice. Awkwardly enough at the moment, she'd gotten off to that voice as he planned an arctic rescue mission in The Admiral: Permafrost, which she'd watched way too many times to ever admit out loud. Even worse, she'd probably get off to it again even though she now kinda knew him and he wasn't just the amazingly hot, chiseled guy who did that Salmon Ladder exercise shirtless and sweaty in every movie. Did that make her a bad person? Probably. She'd find a way to live with that.
"Aubrey, I've been looking everywhere for you." Carter slid into the booth next to her.
"You have?" she asked, trying to sound cool and normal and not like a woman who was picturing the naked sideview of that ass.
It was official. She really was the worst.
He leaned in close and lowered his voice. "Omaha. Three o'clock."
In a move that would have done The Admiral proud, she snuck a peek without making it obvious. A trio of women were clumped together, frozen in place as they stared at Carter. The other twenty billion people in the morning buffet getting their carbs and coffee on swerved around them like a school of fish dividing and coming back together around some mid-ocean impediment. It was wild.
"Did you put a spell on them?" she asked.
"No, they're just confused about who I am," he said, giving her an unmistakeable help-me-out-here plea with his blue eyes.
At the table, Benjamin looked like he was about start asking questions and Kendall had her tell-me-everything face on. Add that to the women who were starting to move closer to their table and it had all the potential to be a total disaster on the high seas.
"Oh for the last time, you do not look at all like The Admiral," she said, her voice loud enough to carry over to the port side or bow or whatever part of the ship they were farthest away from and most definitely carry to the ears of the women about to ID Carter. "Oh my God. The ego on this guy." She rolled her eyes at her friends before turning back to face Carter, her features set into a passive-aggressive and yet sympathetic mask. "No offense, but your nose is more bulbous at the end than his, your build not quite as perfect, and—bless your heart—my panties didn't immediately go up into flames when you walked by. You're cute and all but you're just the poor gal's Admiral not the real thing. There's no way you could get away with telling people you were Carter Hayes."
Watching out of the corner of her eye as doubt walloped the trio who were taking in every word out of her mouth, she smiled sweetly at her friends, who'd stopped eating and were giving Carter a closer perusal.
"So," she said, her brain spinning in an effort to get a kinda plausible story out fast enough to cut off any inquiry. "It turns out in a very seven-degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon way that we’re connected. Can you believe that? He went to college with my older brother and they were in the same fraternity."
"Which one?" Benjamin asked, leaning forward so his forearms were on the table.
And that's all it took to turn the inside of her head into a total void. She had nothing. Oh God, she sucked at this whole subterfuge thing.
"Alpha Lamba," Carter let out a cough, holding up one finger in a non-verbal plea for a moment. "Duck."
Aubrey's eyes went wide. Duck? Really? Okay, she'd had a total brain coma but he'd gone with duck?
Too bad she didn't have any choice but to go with it. "It's an Iowa thing."
Kendall, Benjamin, Liv, and Grace didn't ask a follow up but she had no doubts they would later—and it would be epic.
Nice going, Aubrey Dean. You're world class.
"What was that?" she asked, leaning in close to Carter and keeping her voice as quiet as possible in the loud dining room.
"I froze." He shrugged. "My big nose must have gotten in the way of my brain."
It took just about everything she had not to lift her fist and s
hake it at the sky while screaming "men" at that moment.
"Don't be so sensitive," she said. "You've made the sexiest humans to have ever existed list, you'll live."
"Three times." He held up three fingers. "That's how many times I made the list."
"Really?" she whisper yelled. "That's what you're gonna focus on right now when your cover almost got blown straight out of the water?"
He snagged a mini-pastry off her plate, tore off a bite, and held it out as if to hand feed her. "Good thing I have you to save the day."
Then, he gave her a grin. It wasn't just any grin either, it was the one that one that showed off his dimples and made him look like a good guy who would do all the bad things—and her panties went up in flames as she accepted the bite.
Feeding Aubrey may have too much, but she was the kind of woman who inspired that kind of take-it-to-the-next-level reaction in him. He'd have to watch that. Just because he happened to have a thing for troublemakers and wild women in general didn't mean he needed to get any closer to this one in particular. It didn't help that the move confirmed that her lips were as soft as he'd imagined last night. What could he say, all that rocking of the boat had given his dick ideas.
"So you went to school with Aubrey's brother, huh?" Benjamin asked, uh-huh-sure-buddy dripping from each syllable.
Yeah, that was not where this conversation needed to go. The less said about Carter the better. Time to redirect.
"That's right," Carter said with a nod before turning his attention to Grace, who was reaching down every other breath to tug at the hemline of her shorts. "Have your missing pants turned up?"
"No." Grace took a sip of juice. "It seems I won't see them again until I get home after the cruise."
"That's," he paused trying to come up with a response that wouldn't hint at his own involvement with the prank, "weird."