Sailing In Style

“I’ll try to keep to my assigned area, but I’m always a little loosey-goosey with the rules.”

She leveled what she hoped was a look brimming with indignation, but it might have been ruined by the water dripping from her hair.

“All right, then. Keep to your side of the boat and everything will be fine.” She sailed by, leaving a trail of water in her wake.

“Which side is mine, by the way?”

She lifted her chin and gave him her back.

* * *

CY’S HEART THUNDERED as he watched Piper disappear into the hallway. It killed him to see her. Drove him crazy that she let him have the last word. No fiery retort? No stinging barb? He needed to find out what had happened to the Piper Brindle he’d known. Or thought he’d known. As he followed her, he bumped into the uniformed young man. He could now see the black braid twining down the man’s back and his slightly crooked bow tie, an earring sparkling in one lobe. He regarded Cy with amusement as he removed one earbud.

“Did you need a towel, too?”

Right now, he needed to catch up with Piper.

“No, thanks. I’m in a hurry.”

The young man arched an eyebrow. “Not gonna get through that way. Floor’s being mopped.”

Cy heaved out a breath. He felt like swearing except that every profanity he’d ever voiced brought back the taste of the green soap Aunt Bitsy had used to cleanse the sin from his tongue. He settled for a drawn out sigh.

The kid offered a hand. “Hollister Luis. I’m the purser.”

“Cy Franco. I wish some sort of secret passageway would turn up about now.”

Hollister’s eyes widened. “No passageways.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “But I could show you secret places in the River King that would blow your mind. You’re the decorator, right?”

He nodded.

“And you tossed Mr. Spooley into the river, didn’t you?” He grinned, showing a perfect smile except for the one smaller, crooked tooth next to the two big front ones. “I didn’t think a decorator would have the guts.”

“I’m not your everyday decorator, and actually, it was an accident.”

“Spectacular.”

Cy only wanted to escape, but Hollister’s frank smile made him try another tack. “So you know everyone on this boat? The employees, I mean?”

He nodded.

“You know Piper Brindle well?”

His smile faltered just a little. “She’s an actress. Been on board rehearsing for a couple of months now. She’s excellent. Spooley seems to think so, too.”

“Does she stay on board? I mean, does she have a room here?”

He smoothed his uniform coat, tugging it over his skinny chest. “That stuff’s private.”

Was he for real? Cy reached for his wallet. “How about if...”

Hollister held up his palm. “Uh-uh. She’s entitled to her privacy, and I don’t even know you.”

Hollister Luis stood with his chin in the air, somehow managing to look down his nose at a man who was taller by a foot and older by almost a decade. Cy didn’t know whether to laugh or punch the kid.

“Anyway, I gotta go. My shift’s over and I have some homework to do.”

“College?”

“Trying. Mostly online. Sometimes I doze off during the lectures.” He shrugged. “I always do things the hard way.”

Cy stepped aside to allow the purser to pass.

“Hollister?”

“Uh-huh?”

Cy shook his hand. “Thank you for protecting Piper’s privacy. You are a man of honor.”

“Glad you see it that way, Mr. Franco.”

There really was no chance of Cy catching up to her. Cy pictured a wet and angry Piper, robed in a ruined wedding dress and looking as though she’d be happy to send him to the bottom of the river. His sister’s advice rang in his ears again.

If you see Piper Brindle, run in the other direction.

Now, it seemed they would be sharing deck space, at least until his job was finished. Ignoring the lancing pain in his chest, Cy headed to the tiny room he’d been assigned.

How far could he possibly run on a boat, anyway?

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_ec0bdc19-66cb-5550-a08a-077b21068a6c)

PIPER WALKED THE ten blocks from the dock to their apartment. She still felt cold from her dive into the ocean, but perhaps it was not only that. Cy was the same handsome, athletic, sensitive man she’d abandoned. Yet he wasn’t. Hurt had changed him. She had changed him.

She kept up a brisk pace, insisting to herself that she’d probably done Cy a favor. He needed to grow up and see the truth about life.

It was hard. It was unfair. It was no place for innocents.

Stomach knotted, she hurried the last stretch, resisting the urge to stop and take in the spangle of stars like she’d done so often with the only man she’d loved desperately in a time that seemed an eternity ago.

At the apartment complex, a sixty-something woman was sweeping the walk. The late hour did not seem to matter to Mrs. Rapapeet. Piper had never seen her without a broom in her hands. The twists in her elaborate coiffure gleamed in the moonlight.

“Hi, Mrs. Rapapeet.”

The woman tightened her grip on the broom, turned her back on Piper and retreated in angry sweeps down the walkway.

Odd. Piper let herself into their studio apartment. The smell of mac and cheese greeted her.

“Studio” seemed a grand label for one room, a run-down bathroom and a single burner stove, but for eight-hundred dollars a month, beggars could not be choosers. Uncle Bo had not been able to find a job that stuck, his prior gig as a hot dog vendor lasting only three weeks. She hoped the shuttle driver stint would serve a bit longer. They’d put up a curtain to create two minirooms, and it was enough since Piper stayed on the boat most of the time.