Jordan plays along with sweet kisses every time the Pilots, Red and Black, tinkle their champagne glasses.
I’m in the middle of a death-defying kiss when a huge, firm hand grips my shoulder and tears me from Jordan’s lips.
A big, blocky 3-D printed plastic hammer thumps on the table. Our plates and silverware bounce, and the boat pitches and rolls, causing the dishes to slide.
Cries of exclamation and surprise flutter through the dining room, and I pop my gaze back over my shoulder to see who is causing the commotion big enough to tilt the ship.
It’s Sven, and he’s already dressed like Christmas Thor, with red and green armor and a wig of flowing blond hair streaming over his shoulders.
“You, brother Loki, have tricked everyone again. This fair damsel is not your bride, but mine,” Sven shouts, shaking his hammer.
The boat shifts to the other side, and a voice over the loudspeaker announces, “This is the captain. Do not panic. We’ve hit rough waters, but we’re entirely safe. Rest assured, there are no icebergs in this part of the Pacific Ocean.”
“I am Thor!” Sven’s voice booms. “Hand back my bride or the sea will rise up at my command and toss icebergs as large as the mountains of Hel at us.”
Nervous laughter titters through the dining room as people recover sufficiently to take out their cameras and cell phones. Sven takes my hand, pulls me to my feet, and dumps me unceremoniously over his hard, metallic shoulder armor.
“Jordan.” I reach toward him, piteously, if at best, because instead of gallantly stepping forward to rescue me, he’s rolling with his chair tilted back, laughing and clutching his sides.
What kind of fake husband is he?
The disloyal reunion Pilots cheer and hoot, singing their high school fight song, as Sven removes me from the dining room.
No one comes to my rescue.
No one intervenes.
Everyone is laughing, and they think it’s scripted.
If it is, no one bothered telling me.
Great. I’ll be subjected to another extended bout of self-aggrandization, braggadocio, and the eardrum-pounding, booming voice, now amplified with Thor’s hammer. I can see a grand mal headache coming on.
Applause follows us as Sven lets me down, then, kissing my hand, he leads me to a private dining room with a table set for two.
Chapter 8
Sven is well-polished. I have to admit that. He’s also so good to look at and he knows all of the social graces, like which fork to use, what to do with finger water, and spooning his soup away from him.
I assume he’s housebroken, too, and I have to admit he makes a fine figure to go with to the ball. He turns heads everywhere he goes, being well over six feet five, and being dressed like a cross between a Viking god and a modern-day prince in red and green formal wear means I’m automatically the belle of the Yuletide Ball.
A small orchestra plays Christmas classics as we waltz and glide over the smoothly waxed parquet dance floor. Because I’m such a practiced socialite, I’m able to hold my own while navigating the shoals of small talk, introductions, curtseying, and responding to acts of gallantry.
Sven is gracious with every elderly man who requests a dance with me, and I’m passed from former business leaders to retired military men to reptilian congressmen and so forth.
Everything’s spinning like a dream when a mic drops with a thud, and a pair of cymbals crash. A mist spews near my feet, and I’m ripped from the weak grasp of my dance partner.
A man’s maniacal laughter roars over the exclamations of the other dancers, and I’m swept into the arms of a man in a hooded black cape.
He sports a black, curly beard, a glint of silver over one tooth, and his dark, bushy eyebrows glower over mischievous brown eyes.
“Jordan,” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”
“Claiming my dance with you for the rest of the night,” Jordan says. “Tell me, truthfully, are you enjoying yourself or bored out of your skull?”
“I’m going through the motions, and that in itself is enjoyable.”
He snickers. “Settling is never the secret to success.”
“Stop snickering.” I lightly punch his gut. “It’s annoying.”
“True, but I’m sent to rescue you from not ever being annoyed again.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say as we waltz over the dance floor. The music has picked up again, and Jordan’s disturbance of the ball appears unnoticed.
Certainly, the finer people are great at pretending nothing is out of order—smoothing over faux pas and gauche behavior comes as second nature to those who aspire to master-of-the-universe status.
“I’m Loki, or Chaos, as opposed to Thor who stands for order and security.”
“Why invite chaos into my life?” I give Jordan a sidelong glance. “When my life has already been turned upside down.”
“Chaos and the unexpected are more interesting than order and stability.” Jordan’s voice purrs close to my ear, and his fake, black beard tickles my earlobe and neck.
“Is this why Jade sent you? To give me trouble? To annoy me?”
“To surprise you.” He twirls me around as the music changes from a waltz to a foxtrot. “Was that expected?”
Before I can say, “boo,” Jordan leads me into the walking steps of a slow foxtrot.
Thank goodness I tried out for beauty pageants and know how to ballroom dance. Is there anything Jordan doesn’t know how to do?
We spin and sway to the jazzier style of music, and to tell the truth, I’m enjoying it way more than the stuffy waltz with its even and predictable steps.
“You’re definitely not what I expected,” I answer him, leaning back and twirling my head on the two quick steps.
“Good, because predictable is boring, and you would have been unhappy.” Jordan’s black cape swirls around my body as he wraps me into an unexpected dip.
I catch my breath and can’t help sinking into his dark and soulful gaze—deep set like the eyes of a Russian orthodox saint with a shining halo around his crown, in contrast to the dashing and devilish black beard.
“Are you saying I would have been unhappy married to Stephen?” I, too, can play devil’s advocate.
“You tell me.” He guides me into another dip which leaves me breathless.
“My parents were so proud of me when I landed the engagement.” They’d invested so much into singing and dancing lessons and the beauty pageants.
“And now? Have they disowned you?”
“They’re disappointed.”
“You’re much better off.” He turns me around and sweeps me across the floor. “If you truly wanted to marry Stephen, you wouldn’t have jumped out of that cake.”
This bit of self-sabotage has been bothering me. “I screwed myself out of a Christmas wedding.”
“And out of a picture-perfect, plastic life.”
I’m so busy keeping up with Jordan’s steps that at first, I don’t realize we’ve glided out of the ballroom. I half-expect Sven to intervene, but then, why would he care?
The last I saw, he was hobnobbing with venture capitalists and wealth managers. No doubt, he’s seeking a sponsorship for his water polo team or maybe an internship with a political giant.
“Sven does seem to be a picture-perfect substitute for Stephen,” I observe while walking hand in hand with the black-caped trickster.
“He’s a superhero,” Jordan says. “Most eligible bachelor in all of Europe.”
“And you set me up with him. Why?”
We step up onto the top deck, and a breeze picks up Jordan’s cape, whipping it along with my hair, as the ship cruises over the moonlit ocean.
I lean against the rail, and a shiver of goosebumps grips my arms and shoulders. The music and laughter of the ballroom seem as far behind as my glitterati life in San Francisco, New York, and the capitols of the world—being seen with Stephen at the opera house or getting in and out of limos.
I wasn’t allowed to visibly work, so during breaks in Stephen’s schedule, I rented space in recording studios and read audiobooks. It relieved boredom and gave me an outlet into other people’s lives—even if imaginary.
Jordan thankfully wraps his cape around me and rubs my shivers away. We’re quiet for a long moment, which surprises me, because he’s usually so chatty.
I inhale the cool, misty night air and turn halfway so I can look up at his profile. The fake beard covers his smirky lips, making him appear more heroic. I miss the impish twist of his lips, and his pointy, fox-like chin.
“You haven’t answered my question. Why did you set me up with Sven?”
“You wanted a blond superman,” he reminds me. “You told me that’s your type.”
“Maybe it’s what I was taught to want. A guy always in control. A natural leader. Someone strong and predictable.”
“Why did you set me up with Dr. Alice Lin?” he counters. “Don’t get me wrong. I like her. She’s brilliant.”
A squirt of jealousy rumbles my stomach, and I turn my attention back to the river of moonlight shimmering over the dark ocean waves.
“Did Jade tell you to find dates for me? As part of her plan to cheer me up?”
“Is it working?” He hugs me tighter and warms me against the buttery leather vest he’s wearing beneath his cape.
“As a distraction, yes. But in the middle of the night, when I’m alone, I still feel this tremendous sense of loss.” I clench my fingers on the rail to mirror the ache in my heart. “I don’t know what I want anymore. I invested two years in Stephen. I had everything planned.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t worry,” he says. “Let life happen. Maybe you shouldn’t make plans. It’s no fun if they come true.”
“Where do I go from here?” I know my voice sounds plaintive and my heart feels so broken. “Where do I go after this cruise? I can’t face going home where everyone knows me as the one who let Stephen Sommers the Third get away.”
“There’s always Sven. You can hook up with him and see the world with him,” Jordan says, tilting my face up to face him. “And then, there’s me. You’ll never know what comes next.”
I swallow and stare at him. His gaze never wavers. Slowly, he peels the fake beard from his face, rubbing off the glue. He throws it overboard and grins crookedly.
His nose cocks to one side, and one side of his mouth lifts higher than the other. He’s got an out-of-place tooth, and an eyebrow which is longer than the other, but my heart beats lopsidedly, and I don’t know if he’s joking or serious.
“Say something, or I might have to dive after my beard,” he says, his voice gravelly.
“Did you draw that spider on the toilet paper?”
He snickers. “Did it scare you?”
“Stop snickering, and maybe I’ll give you a chance.”
Snicker. “You’re so predictable.”
“Am not.” I reach up as if I’m going to kiss him. In fact, I wait for his lips to pucker and his eyes to close. And then I blow a raspberry and snicker as I squirm from his arms and leave him standing there, black cape aflutter like the gargoyle on a dark and stormy castle wall.
Chapter 9
It’s Christmas Eve, the first one I’ll spend without my family.
I wake alone and miserable, heart pounding too fast from a recurring dream of missing the boat.
Jordan’s bunk is unslept in, and there’s no note on the table as to his whereabouts. Not that he owes me an explanation.
Today’s our last day at sea, and we’re supposed to watch an exhibition water polo game between Sven’s team and the Singaporean champions.
I’m also signed up for learning how to surf, or at least kneeboard, on the artificial wave machine. I suppose I can find Sven and he’ll have no problem teaching me how to surf.
Part of me misses Jordan, and even as I scour the bathroom for more pranks, I can’t seem to tamp down my disappointment that he hasn’t even seen fit to stick a plastic snake in my makeup case.
He can’t possibly be upset at me for raspberrying him instead of kissing him, can he?
He called me predictable, and I resent that he thinks I’m so easy. Just because I have a broken heart doesn’t mean I’m going to jump the first man who happens to share my cabin with me.
I mean, he’s Jade’s cousin, for goodness sake, which means he’s almost my cousin, and I’m definitely not into incest.
Besides, I’m not his type. He says he likes Asian women.
And I said I liked blond men. A nagging voice reminds me that if I lied, maybe he lied also.
Not that he has any reason to. He’s only doing Jade a favor, taking her place because her ship has finally come in.
I miss her, and I should send her a Christmas message.
We have one last day at sea before we hit land on the Big Island. Hilo is our first stop, and I intend to find an Internet café first thing so I can make contact.
I do miss my family, and maybe I overreacted by running away for Christmas.
Can you tell I’m in a crappy mood?
I’m not sure I can face the breakfast table alone, not after the beautiful lobster breakfast of the day before, but there’s nothing worse than hiding in my cabin on Christmas Eve.
I get dressed for the surfing lesson, wearing my bikini underneath cutoff shorts and a camisole. If success is the best revenge, then I’m not going to let a small thing like Jordan’s absence stop me from conquering the activities Jade scheduled for me.
Swallowing my pride, I knock on Sven’s door to see if he’s going to breakfast. I can’t stand the thought of Jordan sitting in the dining room sipping passion fruit juice with whichever woman he picked up the night before while I sit amongst a table of strangers trying to look brave and confident.
Sven opens the door and steps outside, clearly blocking my view inside.
Perhaps he, too, got lucky last night.
“What’s up?” he asks, rubbing the grizzly, blond stubble on his square jaw.
“It’s not too early, is it? I mean, I hope I didn’t disturb anything.” Although either I slept like the dead, or his room was truly quiet all night.
“You didn’t. I’m cool.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot as if I’m taking him away from something he’d rather be doing—or someone.
“Was wondering if you want to go to the dining room for breakfast. Do you know how to surf? I’ve got two passes for surfing on the artificial wave machine.”
“The wave machine is nothing like the North Shore in winter,” Sven says. “If you want to see surfing, come with me when we get to Oahu. This time of the year, we’ll have waves well over thirty to fifty feet high.”
“Actually, I’d rather stay with the wave machine. I figure if I crash, I can’t actually drown.”
“You’ll get mat burn,” Sven says. “I can hold your hand and make sure you don’t fall.”
“It doesn’t sound like it’ll be fun for you.” I backtrack down the corridor. “Forget I asked. You don’t happen to know where Jordan went, do you?”
Sven’s face twists with obvious confusion so I say, “Never mind. See you around.”
Great. Not only am I dateless for the day, I’ve just admitted my own roommate, who was tasked to cheer me up, has dumped me.
Maybe I’m a real nasty person no one wants to be around. Look at me. Not a friend in the world. No family around me, and the last thing I posted on social media was a picture of me with a gun-shaped vibrator.
Pathetic.
My head hanging low, I pass into the dining hall and grab a tray. I hope my tablemates are not present, but no such luck.
Alice and Sylvester are there, along with the fortieth-reunion club.
“How did the ball go?” Sylvester asks. “We didn’t see you after the foxtrot.”
“You didn’t see us either,” Alice says. “We were dressed as Christmas trees.”
“All lit up, but stuck to our roots,” Sylvester adds. “Y
ou won’t find trees dancing.”
“I’m glad you had a good time,” I manage to choke out between bites of toast, while keeping my gaze planted on my placemat, where I read about the cruise’s various events.
Alice leans close and taps me. “What did you do to Jordan?”
My heart stops, and I carefully lift my eyes and glance at her. “Is he okay? What happened?”
“He spent the night with me,” she says matter-of-factly. “Poor kid.”
I almost choke on a piece of toast. “Why do you say poor kid?”
“He wasn’t his usual cheerful self,” Alice says. “He believes you don’t want him to carry out his assignment.”
“Oh, no, he misunderstood. I’ll be glad to hang out with him the rest of the cruise. Honest.” My eyes wander around the dining room, looking for my own personal Loki. “Where is he right now?”
“Having room service in my cabin. I told him he’s acting like a big baby, but he claims he’s going to be in trouble no matter what happens.”
Sylvester grunts and elbows his sister. “You’re not supposed to repeat confidences.”
“In trouble. With who?” My gaze pops between brother and sister. “I’m not going to give him a bad report. He’s very entertaining, and I had a great time yesterday, from the lobster breakfast to all the spa treatments, shuffleboarding, dinner with Sven, and the Christmas Ball. It was magical, even the walk on the top deck with a mysterious caped man.”
Alice snickers and is about to say something when Sylvester cuts her off. “See? Nothing to worry about. There’s no trouble.”
No trouble for Jordan, but I can see it now. He really doesn’t want to do this job for Jade, but now that he took her place on the cruise, he feels obligated.
I shouldn’t be so dependent on him. Maybe there’s another woman on board he’d rather pursue. Maybe it’s Dr. Lin.
Hey, who am I to judge? May-December relationships can go either way.
Seashells & Mistletoe (Hawaiian Holiday Book 2) Page 6