“I know.”
Kendall managed a smile. “Let’s get our rooms situated and then we’ll figure out the rest.”
“Figure out the rest,” Grace repeated, giving her a look like she was a tiger in a cage. “You know you’re on vacation, correct?”
“You’re one to talk.” She didn’t comment on Grace’s aversion to vacation wear, which really translated into an aversion to wearing shorts. It didn’t make much difference now, while it was still cold and windy and they were too far north for anything resembling warm, but Grace wouldn’t change her mind once the sticky heat set in. She’d just suffer in silence as if that made any kind of sense. Then again, they all had their quirks. “The only reason you agreed to this is because your CEO forced you to.”
Grace opened her mouth, seemed to reconsider, and closed it. “Let’s find our rooms.”
“Checkmate.” Kendall laughed, but it came out half-hearted. One of the cruise people called Grace’s name and she waved her off. “Go get your room and warm up. I’ll see you in a little bit when we meet for drinks.” She needed a drink after this spectacular failure. She managed to keep her smile in place until Grace disappeared into the crowd, and then Kendall let her shoulders slump.
She should have known this would go sideways before the cruise ship even departed. If there was one law she ascribed to above all others, it was Murphy’s. Anything that could go wrong, did. Every. Single. Time. It started with the death of her parents when she was nine, and it hadn’t let up in the sixteen years since. Not once. She’d thought this trip would be the exception, the turning point she so desperately needed.
She really should have known better.
A sensation swept over her, stalling her before she could start pacing. Someone was watching her, their attention a weight she could feel as surely as she felt the cold nipping at her skin. She looked around slowly, telling herself this was silly even as she did. It didn’t matter if someone was watching her. This was a freaking singles party cruise; no doubt people would look at her and assume she wanted in on the activities. They’d be wrong, of course. Kendall didn’t do wild, and she sure as hell didn’t hook up. With her long-running bad luck, it’d end even worse than her handful of relationships had over the years. She shuddered at the thought.
Her shudder turned into something else altogether when she met blue eyes across the deck. The man they belonged to leaned against the railing, looking particularly unaffected in his weathered jeans and leather jacket. His dark hair barely ruffled in the wind, and his square jaw looked sharp enough to cut herself on.
She turned her back to him immediately. Nearly two decades of crappy luck was enough for her to develop keen instincts when something would cause her an untold amount of trouble. Like every time her little sister said “I have a great idea,” or whenever the owner of the hotel she worked for smiled and said “I know you have this covered.”
Whoever that man was, he was trouble with a capital “T.”
She wanted nothing to do with it—or him.
* * *
Alex Jeffries watched the little brunette scurry across the deck away from him. Everyone else waiting for their rooms seemed intent on starting the party early, despite the fact that the wind chill made the mid-March day feel like spring would never come.
He fucking hated New York.
Almost as much as he hated cruises.
Even though he knew better, he tracked the brunette’s movements as she all but rushed to the harried looking cruise employee, no doubt to demand her room to get her away from the rest of the rabble. That one had high maintenance written all over her, from her pretty floral dress to her black tights and boots and the jacket that couldn’t possibly hold up against this cold. She was the kind of person who dressed for visual appeal instead of function, and he’d met more than his fair share of those over the years.
“See something you like?”
“No.” He reluctantly dragged his gaze away from her to look at Lucas. The only reason he was on this godforsaken cruise in the first place. It wasn’t strictly true—Pop bought the tickets and all but strong-armed them both into coming—but if Lucas had made some excuse not to come, Alex could have gotten out of it. He should have gotten out of it.
Even though he knew, rationally, that his bar, Pop’s, was in good hands for the next nine days, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d arrive back in town to find it burned to the ground. That if he wasn’t there every single day, putting in the time and effort, it would fall to pieces.