Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
But he and I both knew the truth.
If there was a stew down, it was going to be hell on both of us.
“Leah,” I said, announcing my presence with a gentle knock on her cabin door. I slid inside when she didn’t answer, then inched the bathroom door open.
The poor southern belle was splayed out on the ground, her legs in a stag shape, arms draped over the toilet seat, head resting on her forearms. She groaned, turning just enough to glance up at me through her greasy hair.
“I swear, Em. I’m not hungover.”
“I believe you,” I said. I bent next to her, holding her hair out of the way as she dry-heaved into the toilet. When she caught her breath, I rubbed her back and sighed. “I think it’s safe to say you need to be in bed today.”
“No,” she whined. “I’m fine. I… I just need…”
She vomited again, her shoulders deflating.
“You need rest and to hydrate. I’ll call provisions and add some electrolyte drinks to our order. I’m going to bring you some crackers to nibble on, and when you’re ready, Finn can make you some broth.”
She gagged, then whined again. “I’m mortified. And putting you and Bernard in this position…”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. I was distantly aware of the camera duo just outside the bathroom door capturing this whole thing. “We’ll figure it out.”
Leah nodded and sighed, then smiled just a little. “Thank God for Gisella, huh? Not often you have a deck/stew on board who can help when something like this happens.”
My insides coiled tight. I hadn’t even gotten that far yet, but Leah was right — I was going to have to talk to Captain and see if we could use Gisella for this charter.
Which meant not only were we rooming together, but we’d be working together — closely — for at least the next two days.
“Yeah,” I muttered, hoping my smile looked genuine. “Thank God for Gisella.”
“Don’t worry, mi reina. I got you.” Gisella squeezed my arm where I was filling the champagne glasses to welcome our next charter guests, her smile bright and filled with assurance.
I wished I believed it.
Captain had agreed that it would be best if Gisella worked mostly with interior this charter while Leah recovered. He felt confident the guys on deck could handle everything without her and call on the radio for special circumstances, like docking or blowing up the giant slide that was always a pain in the ass.
I’d felt relief at first, but after provisions arrived and every moment since, that relief had slowly morphed into worry.
Gisella was sweet. She would definitely be able to serve with a smile. She was laid back.
But she was maybe a bit too laidback.
She’d moved at a snail’s pace with laundry, and Bernard told me he had to go in behind her to tidy up the laundry room and get uniforms where they needed to be. She hadn’t read the names on tags, so everyone had ended up with other people’s clothes — including Captain, who also gave me a stern warning look when his epaulets went missing in the process.
Then, she’d taken nearly three hours to set the guest cabins, fluffing pillows and adjusting throws while simultaneously missing important things like tucking the corners of the sheets properly and making sure the mirrors were spotless. I’d had to polish up every single room when I checked her work, fixing everything she’d overlooked.
When we were provisioning, she spent more time learning how to make an espresso martini — something the guests had specifically stated they’d want in their preference sheets — than actually putting anything away. And yes, I needed her to know how to make that drink, but what I didn’t need was for it to take half the afternoon. While the rest of us were knee-deep in organizing the fridges and dry storage, she was laughing at the mess she was making with the espresso machine like it wasn’t adding to our list of shit to clean.
Not to mention the amount of times just since this morning that I’d caught her flirting with Finn instead of working.
I felt like we’d all been duped — me most of all. Because where Gisella had seemed like a rockstar with the first charter, she was more like a rock in my shoe for this one.
I forced a smile at her now as I continued pouring the welcome aboard champagne, hoping for my and Bernard’s sake that it was just an off day. “At least these guests seem a little more relaxed than the last group,” I said.
“They’re certainly less picky eaters,” Finn chimed in as he swept past us, tucking in his chef’s shirt on his way to the main deck aft where the guests would come aboard. He smiled at me, making my stomach flutter like it was full of hummingbirds.