Fearless (Pier 70 Book 2)

by Nicole Edwards

  His phone chimed again.

  Oh, and there’s someone I want you to meet.

  Noah frowned.

  Milly had mentioned setting him up with someone a while back, but he had adamantly refused, hoping she would get the hint. Noah didn’t have problems finding guys on his own, thank you very much. He definitely didn’t need his stepsister setting him up with her friends. That was a recipe for disaster on all fronts. What if Noah didn’t like the guy? Or vice versa? The last thing he needed was to upset Milly, even if she was simply trying to do a good deed—her words.

  Still not interested, Milly.

  Noah stared at his phone, waiting for her response. It finally came.

  Oh, but you will be, trust me.

  With a heavy sigh, Noah was about to give her a long lecture on why he didn’t want to be set up when another text came in.

  Flight’s about to leave. Gotta run. Be prepared to relax and have fun for a few days.

  Knowing she wasn’t going to listen if he rehashed his many reasons for her minding her own business, Noah typed: That’s the plan.

  It was his only plan, actually. He would be boarding a ship, not knowing a soul other than Milly and Gannon, so he figured he’d have plenty of time to himself. And since he hadn’t taken a vacation in too many years to count, Noah was secretly looking forward to it.

  Not that he had any intention of letting Milly know that.

  Two

  Sunday, May 29th (the next morning)

  Dare groaned as he popped open one eye to find the sun shining through the blinds in his small apartment. Since it was all one room, that little bit of light filled up the whole space.

  This was bad.

  The sun should not be that bright.

  Not yet.

  “Son of a bitch.” He rolled over, reached for the nightstand, and found his phone. He gave a quick peek at the screen. “Aww, hell.”

  At that exact moment, his phone chirped. Rubbing his eyes, he pulled up the text.

  If you’re still in bed, I’m going to personally kick your ass.

  Milly.

  Great.

  Not for the first time, Dare was grateful he was gay. He couldn’t imagine getting on a woman’s bad side and dealing with her wrath indefinitely. Dealing with Milly on a part-time basis was stressful enough.

  He tapped out two words—I’m awake—then dropped the phone onto the mattress beside him.

  In an instant, he was out of bed and on his way to the shower, forcing his boxer briefs down his hips and letting them land somewhere on the floor along the way. He’d overslept and now he had less than fifteen minutes to get presentable and out the door.

  After a quick piss, he flipped on the water in the shower, then turned on the water in the sink, purposely ignoring the reflection staring back at him.

  Rushing out of the bathroom while the water warmed, he headed for his closet. Opening the door, he yanked on the chain to turn on the single bulb above his head. It flickered once, then came on. With a bright white glow casting everything in a harsh light, Dare stared at his options in clothes. On one side of his closet, he had at least forty T-shirts, most of them white with some logo or another on the front. The other side had a variety of shorts—athletic, swim, cargo.

  None of which he was looking for.

  Pushing his comfortable attire out of the way and ignoring those that fell from the hangers, Dare finally found the last pair of jeans he owned, along with a forest-green polo shirt. He shook them in a weak attempt to remove some of the wrinkles. To this day, he couldn’t remember why he’d bought either—if he had to guess, Grams had forced him to—but he was pleased he’d had the forethought.

  A couple of weeks ago, Roan had convinced him to go shopping to buy clothes for the cruise, during which Dare had argued profusely. For one, Dare made a point to avoid shopping at all costs. He’d read somewhere that there were around 109,500 shopping centers in North America—all of which were on his I’m-not-gonna-go-there-if-at-all-possible list. And two, they were going on a freaking cruise. Shorts and a T-shirt seemed quite logical.

  But no-o-o, Roan had insisted that Dare also have jeans and shirts without holes in them.

  Nitpicky bastard.

  Despite his aversion to more clothing, Dare had bought what Roan had insisted he get. And all of that was packed in his suitcase, still with the tags—in the event he didn’t wear them, there was no reason he couldn’t take that shit back. That was his motto.

  Passing back through his bedroom, he tossed the clothes on his bed, glanced at them, then picked them up again. Maybe the steam from the shower would help smooth them out. With hangers dangling from his fingers, he then went into the bathroom and hooked the hangers on the towel bar.

  Ten minutes later, he was shaved, showered, and dressed in the clothes that still looked as though he’d pulled them from the back of his closet ten minutes ago.

  Eh. It had been worth a shot.

  Five minutes more and he was in his truck, heading to the airport, praying he had everything he needed. He patted his pocket, confirming he had his wallet and his phone—the only two things he really needed as far as he was concerned.

  Yep. Both there.

  He took a breath for what felt like the first time that morning. It was a damn good thing he didn’t have to do shit like this often. He was quite content with his regular routine of rolling out of bed, yanking on shorts and a T-shirt, then making the three-minute drive from his apartment to the marina.

  “Good thing you’re my best friend, Cam.” After sharing his thought with his truck’s interior, Dare turned on the radio and put his foot to the floor.

  The drive to the airport took less time than he’d expected, which allowed him to make up a few minutes but still didn’t give him much of a buffer. He found a spot in short-term parking, grabbed his suitcase, and made a beeline for the doors.

  “Cam, I hope like hell you appreciate this, man,” Dare mumbled to himself after he checked his luggage and made it through security—thirty-three minutes later.

  Jesus.

  As though his best friend heard him, Dare’s phone vibrated once, signaling a text.

  Praying it wasn’t someone intending to give him a hard time, Dare pulled it from his pocket as he double-timed it toward his gate, squeezing between the slower-moving people.

  I assume you’re on the plane.

  Not Milly. Or Cam.

  Roan.

  Dare stared at the screen and tapped out a response as he maneuvered through the crowds lined up at the other gates.

  Of course I am.

  Smiling to himself, he kept moving.

  You overslept, didn’t you?

  Okay, so maybe he was a little predictable.

  Rather than give them anything more to worry about, Dare responded with: It’s all good. I’m on my way. See y’all in a few hours.

  Then he tucked his phone back in his pocket and prayed like hell he made it on time.

  Because if he didn’t, there would be hell to pay.

  And he was pretty sure hell’s name was Milly Holcomb.

  When his shift was over, Noah headed for his apartment. It’d been a slow night, and he had managed to get a couple hours of sleep, figuring he’d grab a couple more on the plane. The short drive gave him a few minutes to plan out his morning, which he did for the twentieth time since yesterday. As had been the case for most of his adult life, he wasn’t the type to leave anything to chance.

  Once inside his small, one-bedroom apartment, Noah dropped his bag on his bed, careful not to wrinkle the comforter. He set out unpacking it, putting the clothes where they belonged—clean in the drawer, dirty in the hamper—then tossed the bag on a shelf in the closet. On his way out, he grabbed the clothes he would wear to the airport, which he’d already picked out, ironed, and had lying on the small chest in his closet.

  Twenty minutes later, he was shaved, showered, dressed, and ready to go, leaving him a solid hour before he needed
to head out. After putting away the few dishes he’d hand-washed the night before last, then taking the trash down to the dumpster, Noah pondered what to do with the rest of the time. Rather than start a load of laundry and pace the living room to count down the minutes, he opted to go, hoping to beat the mad morning rush—if there was any such thing—at the airport. He’d heard security could be a bitch, and Noah was nothing if not prepared. Or he tried to be, anyway.

  He made it from his apartment to Austin-Bergstrom International Airport in record time. Even managed to make it through security and to his gate with plenty of time to grab a breakfast taco and coffee, which he did, eating it while he waited in the empty area that would soon be filled with passengers ready to embark on their destination.

  Sometimes being prepared was lonely as shit.

  Glancing around, he noticed only one other person was there—a guy in a suit tapping away on a laptop while holding a phone to his ear. He seemed a little out of place on a Sunday morning, but, from experience, Noah knew that work didn’t always wait for a weekday.

  While he sat patiently, he sent his mother a text to let her know he was leaving, checked the baseball scores on his phone, and then shot a quick text to Milly, giving her an update. It was that or wait for her to text him half a dozen times. The woman was a little uptight, and Noah only hoped that once everyone was on board the ship, she would relax some. If not, what was the point of this trip, anyway? Well, other than two people getting married.

  His phone vibrated.

  I wish everyone was as prepared as you.

  If Milly only knew he’d arrived more than an hour early.

  Grinning, he looked up to see that another passenger—this one female—had joined him and the suit.

  Noah messaged Milly back: Everything cool?

  Other than my fear that the ship will leave and half the wedding party will still be on dry land?

  Yes, other than that.

  Noah took a breath, then relaxed in his chair, watching as more people began to arrive at his gate while it seemed the floodgates had opened and the airport was beginning to buzz with anxious travelers. He did not envy those who were running to their destination. That shit would make him crazy.

  Then again, his OCD probably made most people nuts. Along with being unorganized, being late was one of his pet peeves.

  His phone vibrated again.

  I think it’ll all be fine. At least I hope it will. Have a safe flight and I’ll see you when you get here.

  Will do.

  With that conversation out of the way, Noah leaned his head against the window behind him and closed his eyes. He had nothing to do but wait for them to announce they were boarding, so he figured now was as good a time as any to catch another power nap.

  Three

  Six hours later

  Dare had finally fucking made it, and now he was out of breath as he stepped into the banquet room Milly had instructed everyone to meet in when they arrived on the ship. As he tried to slow his heart rate, he grabbed a napkin from an empty table and dabbed the sweat from his forehead. Stupid-ass jeans. If he’d been wearing shorts and flip-flops, he wouldn’t be sweating.

  He scanned the place, smiling and nodding at the familiar and some not-so-familiar faces, trying to appear casual and not as though his heart was about to beat out of his chest. Not for the first time today, he was thankful that it took a lot to get him rattled; otherwise, he would’ve been a hot mess at this point.

  Dare dabbed the napkin against the back of his neck. Technically, you are a hot mess. Okay, true, but not the way he’d meant.

  The fact that he’d boarded his plane at the last possible second, managed to finally get transportation to the port (which had only taken a little more than an hour), then painstakingly worked his way through the ridiculously long check-in process in order to get on this damn ship had left him feeling somewhat frazzled.

  He was beginning to think that whoever said the benefits of travel were almost immediate hadn’t actually been anywhere. Dare recalled the statistic he’d read recently: After only a day or two, eighty-nine percent of people experience significant drops in stress. Had anyone considered that getting to your vacation destination doubled stress levels? So, if he did the math correctly, the reduction actually didn’t even get you back to the one hundred percent.

  Great. That didn’t help him to relax at all.

  But he knew what would…

  To kick this off, a little alcohol would go a long way toward settling his nerves.

  As he weaved his way toward the bar, Dare shot a grin to Cam’s sister, Holly. That’s right. I’m here. Although he hadn’t missed a single scheduled event in his entire life, he knew that everyone had been worried that he wouldn’t make it—because not everything could go smoothly for the wedding, right?

  And okay, yes, maybe he wasn’t the promptest person in the world.

  Or the most organized.

  Whatever.

  He had arrived on time. So any mishaps … they weren’t on him.

  Now that he was here, Dare was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Cam and Gannon were officially tying the knot in a few short days—on this fancy cruise ship, no less. Not that it wasn’t long overdue or anything. Those two were perfect for each other. In a weird, opposites-really-do-attract sort of way. Ever since the two of them had started this game of slap and tickle—as Grams liked to call it—in the marina office nearly a year ago, they’d been playing kissy-face. It was about damn time they made it official.

  And here Dare was with at least two dozen of their family and friends, all of whom had probably arrived two hours ago and were already settled in while Dare had stowed his suitcase with the concierge so he could make an appearance before Milly’s head exploded.

  Speaking of Milly… He glanced around, looking for her.

  “What’s up, pretty boy?”

  Dare spun around when he heard the familiar voice.

  It would appear that she’d spotted him first. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past her to have had him microchipped for this occasion.

  Milly stood there, hand cocked on her slender hip, holding a clipboard, looking as dazzling as ever in a short red sundress with her blonde hair piled on top of her head, lips a rich ruby red. Her light blue eyes lit up when he met her gaze.

  “Pretty boy?” Dare hugged her to him when he approached. “Ruggedly handsome, sure. Devastatingly good-looking, I can see. But pretty…?”

  Her lips curved up into a grin, eyes dancing with … hmm. That looked a lot like relief. Had she really thought he wouldn’t make it?

  “Look at you.” Her smile brightened as she slid her hand over his smooth jaw. “All grown up.”

  It was true, Dare hadn’t seen Milly in a few months, but he wasn’t sure he’d go so far as to say he was all grown up. At thirty-four, he wasn’t quite ready to grow up. He’d been through that phase once in his life—a long, long time ago—and he had the scars on his heart to prove it. He had no intention of going through that again, so he’d settled on planning to be a kid for the duration.

  However, if she was referring to the fact that he’d used a razor that morning, was dressed in something other than shorts and a T-shirt—and yes, wearing shoes—then okay, fine, he was all grown up.

  “Where’re Cam and Gannon?” He peered over the heads of the others to see if he could find the happy couple.

  Milly checked something off on the paper on her clipboard before responding. “If I had to guess, Cam’s probably seducing Gannon to keep him from overthinking the fact that we’re on a boat.”

  Technically, they were on a ship—a ship could carry a boat, but a boat couldn’t carry a ship—but Dare didn’t correct Milly.

  Everyone knew that Gannon wasn’t keen on the idea of boats—or ships, or water in general—but they were also aware that Gannon would pretty much do anything for Cam, which, Dare assumed, was how Cam had talked his future husband into this.

&nbs
p; “I wouldn’t doubt it.” He met Milly’s eyes. “Gannon did look a little green yesterday. And that was before they left Texas.”

  “Green?” Milly chuckled. “Are you kidding? He’s more like an overripe avocado at this point.”

  “Oh, yum.” Dare cringed. “Have you seen anyone else yet?”

  While most of the others had spent the night seeing what a difference a stay could make at Embassy Suites, Dare had come straight from the airport. Apparently, they’d been smart in their planning and he’d been … rushed.

  Time to change that, he thought.

  No better place to chill than on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

  Gannon, no doubt, didn’t agree, since, according to Milly, he currently resembled Kermit the Frog’s twin brother.

  “Roan and Teague left to take a quick tour of the boat, see what trouble they can get into,” Milly noted, then nodded across the room. “Hudson is over at the bar with his plus one—who is quite yummy, I have to admit. And I saw Mr. Strickland, Holly, Keith, and the kids when I was on my way here. Oh, and my stepbrother’s around here somewhere.”

  “Your stepbrother?”

  Milly’s smile was impish. Ever since Gannon and Cam had gotten together, Milly had been teasing Dare that she wanted to set him up with her stepbrother. And here he’d thought he had dodged that bullet by telling her he wasn’t interested in a relationship. Granted, this was Milly. He’d learned she was as hardheaded as they came.

  “I needed someone to accompany me on this big ol’ boat.” To go along with her fake southern-belle drawl, Milly’s eyes reflected every ounce of feigned purity she could apparently muster.

  “I thought that’s what I was here for.” He puffed out his chest purposely.

  They’d become friends over the course of the past year, and Dare enjoyed spending time with Milly. She was fun and relatively easy to talk to, even if she was a tad nosy. Okay, more than a tad. A lot nosy.

  “Who said you weren’t?” Again, she offered him those big, innocent eyes.

  God, this girl made him laugh. She definitely wasn’t innocent.