Since when did he tolerate pets, let alone coddle them? The man had never allowed me and Harrison so much as a hamster as kids.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re all right.” Ellie scrunched Whiskey’s face and smothered him with kisses. “I was so worried about you. Is he okay?”
Grandfather let Whiskey paw at his hand. “He’s doing just fine. And what a dashing life vest he’s wearing.”
I stared at the man I no longer recognized. He liked the cat’soutfit?
While Ellie gave Whiskey even more kisses and head scratches, my grandfather rubbed the cat’s fluffy belly. “You just missed the show. They already fished the schmuck out.”
“Schmuck?” I frowned, glancing over the railing. No sign of any people or flotation devices or rescue boats. “Who went over?”
“The preppy one who uses too much hair gel. Sounds like he had a few too many drinks.”
Fletcher.
I sighed. “How bad was it?”
“He’ll be fine,” Grandfather dismissed, seemingly more interested in the cat. “Harry and the Russian already went to the lower deck to retrieve him.”
My shoulders loosened immediately, but the relief was short-lived because, with the emergency over, I became all too aware of Ellie wearing just her tiny black lingerie. It’d made my grandfather’s brows rise, and garnered other lingering glances from the crew.
Ellie couldn’t seem to care less—every ounce of her attention was on Whiskey—but I should’ve grabbed her a jacket when we raced out of the room. I couldn’t even offer her my shirt because I wasn’t wearing one.
Looking almost comical in a huge fluffy white robe and matching slippers, Mac strolled over while Ellie rained more kisses on Whiskey. He rubbed his face like the alarm had interrupted a nice nap—or maybe a bubble bath. But my eyes caught on his robe.
I reached for his sleeve. “Give me this.”
Mac yanked his arm back, scowling. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Get your own robe.”
“Hand it over, Mac.”
“Dude, no way. I’m only wearing boxers under this?—”
“Mac.” I looked pointedly at Ellie’s tiny little slip, then did a double take. She was so distracted petting Whiskey, she hadn’t noticed that lifting her arms raised the whole thing higher up her body, showing off the bottom of her ass.
I swallowed a groan and held out a hand to Mac.
He muttered a few curse words under his breath.
“You owe me,” he grumbled, glaring daggers at me while he shrugged off the robe—leaving himself in a pair of tiger print boxer shorts two sizes too small. “I hate you so much right now.”
I took the robe and wrapped it around Ellie’s shoulders.
“Oh!” She stopped petting Whiskey long enough to put her arms through the sleeves and tie the belt at her waist. She gave a grateful smile, cheeks turning pink. “Thank you. I didn’t even realize what I was wearing.”
I nodded as she ran her hands over the soft fabric, and Mac’s scowled deepened. He crossed his arms over his hairy chest, left in just his teeny tiny boxer shorts.
“It wasn’t my fault!” an angry voice yelled over the crowd, pulling everyone’s attention to the stairs. Vlad and Harrison supported a soaking wet and spitting mad Fletcher, his arms slung over their shoulders.
A few too many drinks was an understatement. He was hammered.
Harrison muttered something to Fletcher, who scoffed.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t fall—” His gaze darted around at everyone before locking in, and Fletcher pointed in our direction. “That dumb cat tripped me on purpose!”
Ellie sucked in a breath.
“Whiskey is notdumb,” she called to Fletcher, who scowled.
