Page 70 of Fire and Ice Cruise

“I’m aware,” I cry out.

“Also, I’m pretty sure my hair just became load-bearing,” Nettie points out as if this were a positive.

“What does that even mean?” Bess cries out with frustration.

“It means if I leaned, it would hold me up.”

Mine could hold up a building.

Wes returns with five frozen cocktails balanced carefully in his arms, completely oblivious to our hair crisis. He distributes them, something pink and tropical that probably has an Icelandic name I can’t pronounce, and holds up his glass.

“To Iceland,” he says. “And to taking time away from reality, even when reality refuses to stay away.”

Bess raises her drink with water streaming down her arm. “And to catching a killer.”

Nettie shrugs, grinning. “To catching a hot stud and trapping him inside my cabin.”

“Nettie,” Bess says.

“What? I’m goal-oriented.”

“To gainful employment,” Ransom says quietly, and there’s hope and prayer woven through those three words.

I lift my glass a notch higher. “To new relationships.” I nod at Wes. “And to finding them in the most unexpected places.”

Like a bar in Copenhagen. Like a cruise ship in the middle of the North Atlantic. Like a volcanic hot spring in Iceland where we’re all floating around with catastrophic hair and frozen cocktails, trying to solve a murder while pretending we’re just tourists on vacation.

Here’s hoping Wes isn’t falling in love with a killer.

We clink our glasses together and the sound is bright and cheerful against the backdrop of steam and sulfur and slate gray sky, and we drink to possibilities we can’t control, and futures we can’t predict.

The cocktail is cold and sweet and absolutely perfect.

Just like this moment, sea witch hair and all.

CHAPTER 23

Suddenly Hitched—What a Trip!

Hello, Trixie!

It’s me again—Exhausted and Conflicted, now officially Exhausted and KISSED.

So, I took your advice and tried to talk to my BFF. It... didn’t go well. She said she needed “space to process” and has been eating all her meals in the cabin. Meanwhile, Sean and I have been spending even more time together, and last night during the farewell party, he kissed me. Really kissed me. The kind of kiss that makes you forget you’re standing on a ship in the middle of the ocean surrounded by a hundred people in formalwear.

Trixie, it was perfect. He’s perfect. And I’m absolutely terrified.

I haven’t felt this way about anyone since my divorce eight years ago, and honestly? I’m scared to death of putting my heart on the line again. What if this is just a shipboard romance that fizzles the moment we’re back in the real world? What if I’m reading too much into three days of intense conversation and northern lights magic? What if my BFF never forgives me and I lose a twenty-five-year friendship over a man I barely know?

Sean asked for my number. He wants to keep seeing me when we get home (we live two hours apart, which feels doable). But I keep thinking about all the ways this could go wrong. My BFF’s silence is deafening. My heart is racing. And I have exactly one day left on this cruise to decide if I’m brave enough to take this chance.

What do I do?

Exhausted and Kissed

Dear Exhausted and Kissed,

First things first! Congratulations on the kiss that made you forget geography. Those don’t come around often, especially at our age. Don’t minimize that.