“Maybe we should forget the whole thing,” Debbie said, standing.
“No. Come on, Debbie,” Joan said. “Besides, we’d lose our money.”
“Couldn’t you bend the rules just this once?” Cat asked in her soft voice.
Javi shot her a look, but bit back a comment, again caught by her flawless fair skin. Damn, and her eyes were a mesmerizing green. Red hair, green eyes. Must be Irish. She flushed again under his scrutiny, something she did a lot. What’s up with that?
But the brunette was right. What did one night matter? If Marlin were here, he’d definitely give in to these three sirens.
At least they didn’t have any special requests. Marlin claimed all they wanted was a week of R & R in paradise where they didn’t have to worry about driving home after too much drinking—and from the amount of tequila they’d brought on board they intended to do plenty of that. They planned some snorkeling, paddle boarding and quiet nights anchored in protected coves.
Javi nodded at the blonde. “All right. Transfer your possessions into garbage bags and welcome aboard.”
* * *
“‘WELCOME ABOARD’?” DEBBIE MIMICKED, lifting her tequila shot off the scarred wooden table in a toast. “Captain Bligh actually said ‘Welcome aboard’ after being such a jerk.”
“He did help us with our food,” Joan said.
“Here’s to that,” Cat said, raising her own small glass. Following tradition, she licked salt off her hand, swallowed the liquor and bit into a tart lime. Her eyes watered, then the whole mess settled in her stomach and burned. She grinned at her friends, triumphant.
“Whoo-hoo, Cat!” Debbie said, whirling her arm in the air. “I knew you had it in you.”
“Anyway, we’re sleeping on board tonight,” Joan said, settling back in her hammock suspended from the high wooden ceiling. “It all worked out.”
“I didn’t think he’d agree,” Cat said. Using her foot, she pushed her own hammock into motion, relaxing into the gentle sway.
After transferring their luggage to Spree, Cat and her friends had returned their rental car and grabbed a taxi to Hattie’s Hammock, a restaurant with a popular bar on the water within walking distance of Spree’s marina. They planned to have dinner, a few drinks, and then make their way back to the boat.
“He damn sure wasn’t happy,” Deb said. “I hope he’s not like that the whole week.”
“I suspect he’ll stay as far away from us as possible,” Joan said.
“And here’s to that,” Deb said, again raising her glass and taking the third of the three shots they’d each ordered. With a flourish, she turned the glass upside down on the table beside the other two. “We need more. I’ll get our waitress.”
Worried Deb was imbibing too much tequila, Cat followed her friend’s progress to the crowded bar where she was immediately approached by a tanned, good-looking dude of around thirty. Cat sighed. Maybe now she was the one being a jerk. She wasn’t Deb’s mother. Inside her head she could hear Joanie telling her to loosen up already, that bad things didn’t always happen.
Anyway, Deb appeared to be enjoying herself—the whole point of this trip.
Deb’s new friend had brown hair, a great smile and must have had a good line, because she actually smiled back at the guy. She leaned on the bar, and they began to talk.
“Look at that.” Cat nudged Joan, who appeared to be lost in thought as she dreamily looked out over the calm water.
Refocusing on Deb and the guy at the bar, Joan said, “Now that’s a very good sign.”
“Has she said anything to you about Brad?” Cat asked.
“Just that he’s marrying the old bat this week.”
“The filthy-rich old bat,” Cat muttered.
“He apparently had to sign a prenup,” Joan said, “but still gets a ton of cash in case of divorce.”
“Yeah, well, he’s good at divorce.”
The dude at the bar bought Debbie a drink, and she perched on a stool beside him. Cat frowned, wondering if that was such a good idea. They were in a strange town and didn’t know a soul.
But maybe a little attention from an interested male was exactly the medicine her friend needed to restore her shaky confidence, which was likely why Deb was being such a pain. This was the first night of their vacation, a getaway they all three needed. They didn’t have to drive anywhere, so why not cut loose?
Hadn’t every man she’d ever dated told her she was uptight, nervous, always worried about the future, seeing disaster around every corner? Some had used less flattering descriptions. Okay. So she was a cautious person, but that was for good reason. Bad things did happen sometimes. She had firsthand proof of that.
Still, she ought to learn from Deb. Hurting from the betrayal of a husband she’d dearly loved, yet here she was bravely meeting new people.
Am I too cautious to ever have a good time? Too frightened to ever take a chance?
Well, not this trip.
Cat took a deep breath and upended her second shot. A little loopy, she was glad to see the waitress arrive with her nachos. Steam billowed into the air from the plate before her, and the tantalizing fragrance of melting cheese and spicy chilies reminded Cat she was starving.
Joan caught Debbie’s eye and motioned for her to return to their table. She did, with the barfly in tow.
As she took her seat she said, “Jeff, this is Joan and Cat, the best friends a gal ever had.”
Cat scrutinized Deb. How much more tequila had she downed at the bar?
“Will you join us, Jeff?” Joan invited, removing her purse from the empty fourth hammock at their table.
“Thanks,” Jeff said.
“Have you eaten?” Cat asked to be polite as she used her fork to detach a tortilla chip from a mound of cheese and salsa.
“You ladies go ahead,” Jeff said, placing his drink on the table. “I’m waiting for some buddies.”
“Jeff crews on a private sailboat and knows these waters well,” Deb said as she squeezed mayo on top of the lettuce and tomato on her mahimahi sandwich.
“How big is the boat?” Joan asked before taking a bite of a giant hamburger.
“Eighty feet. She’s in dry dock for a week, so I’ve got some free time.”
“He was telling me about a fabulous anchorage in the Biminis where we need to go,” Deb said. “Tell them, Jeff.”
“Yeah, I highly recommend Gun Cay if you have enough draft.”
“Draft?” Deb asked.
“How deep your keel goes down in the water,” Jeff explained. “You don’t want to run aground. The water depth in Gun Cay is about ten feet, so it’s dicey at low tide for the Ocean Watch.”
“Ocean Watch is the boat you work on?” Cat asked.
“Right. Do you know your draft?”
“Six feet,” Joan said.
“Then you’ll have no problem. There’s seldom another boat to interfere with your serenity. At least, now that the busy winter season is over.”
“I like that idea,” Cat said.
“Crowded anchorages can ruin a vacation,” Jeff said with a nod. “And with no one else around, you ladies can enjoy the sun au naturel, one of