Page 6 of Fire and Ice Cruise

Ransom clears his throat, and I know what’s coming before he opens his mouth.

“It’s true. Trixie’s fiftieth birthday is on the final night of this cruise.”

“Traitor.” I’m only half-teasing. And I shoot Bess the stink eye for reminding him of it, not that she needed to.

“What?” Nettie shrieks. “You’re turning fifty and you didn’t tell us?”

“It’s not a big deal⁠—”

“Not a big deal?” Bess looks personally affronted. “Fifty is a milestone! A celebration! A⁠—”

“Please stop talking,” I beg.

Wes glances at Marina, and his expression turns a touch sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind me sharing this, but I had to review your ID to approve the last-minute boarding.” He pauses. “It seems you have a birthday coming up on the final day of this cruise, too.”

Marina’s eyes widen, then she winces. “I’m turning fifty, as well.”

The collective gasp from Bess and Nettie sucks half the oxygen out of the atrium.

“A double celebration!” Nettie claps her hands like mad. “This is perfect! We need cake. We need multiple cakes. Heck, we need a whole cake buffet.”

I shake my head at Ransom. “Please don’t⁠—”

“Too late.” Bess waves me off. “I’m already planning the menu.”

“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “But I think Marina and I should get a say in frosting.”

“You don’t get a say,” Nettie grouses. “You get a candle.”

“One candle?” I wink at Marina, who looks oddly Zen about our chaotic exchange.

“Fifty would be a fire hazard,” Nettie informs us.

“She’s probably not wrong,” Marina says with a laugh.

It’s the first real laugh I’ve heard from her, and it’s a good one—warm and unguarded and entirely too brief. Women carrying secrets that size don’t usually let their guard down until something is about to give.

I hope I’m around when it does.

CHAPTER 3

Aman breaks away from the Second Act Society group and heads straight for Wes as the entire lot of us stand at the mouth of the gangway, here on embarkation day.

The man in question looks to be in his early sixties with sandy brown hair going silver at the temples, and he’s dressed in an expensive navy blazer over a crisp white shirt. His movements are crisp and controlled, and there’s something about the way he carries himself that screams former corporate executive. It’s basically a power suit without the jacket, but the jacket is implied.

“Captain Crawford!” He extends a hand. “Gideon Vale. We spoke on the phone about the group booking.”

“Mr. Vale.” Wes shakes his hand. “Welcome aboard. How was your flight?”

“Long but worth it.” Gideon turns to survey the atrium, and his eyes light up. “This ship is even more impressive in person.”

“Wait until you see the rest of her.”

Gideon waves to three people standing near the champagne fountain. “Let me introduce you to some of our members. They’re eager to meet the famous Captain Crawford.”

Famous Captain Crawford?

I bite down on my lip because I’m half-afraid he meant infamous. And I can’t help but feel like some of that infamy might be all my fault.