Page 35 of Fire and Ice Cruise

He escapes before Elodie can rope him into her romantic crisis, which is smart. The man is learning.

“There’s always the next port,” I offer.

“That’s what I said!” Elodie brightens slightly. “Although if the next port smells like this one, I might skip the Viking hunt and just go shopping.”

“Solid plan.”

We make our way over to where Marina and Wes are standing near a bubbling mud pot, and I immediately notice Tinsley hovering between them—like a very persistent gnat in a windbreaker.

“Tinsley is a true terror.” Elodie rolls her eyes before walking over to the safety fence and taking a few pictures of the bubbling field.

“And the geological significance of these formations cannot be overstated,” Tinsley says with her hand firmly gripped around Wes’s forearm. “Captain, did you know that the geothermal activity here is directly related to the Mid-Atlantic Ridge?”

Wes looks as if he’s trying to be polite while also plotting his escape. “I did know that, yes.”

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Tinsley continues. “The way the tectonic plates are literally pulling apart right beneath our feet.”

Marina stands slightly apart, her arms crossed, and I catch the flicker of annoyance that crosses her face before she schools it back to neutral.

“Marina,” I call out, and she turns with visible relief. “Come look at this steam vent with me. I think I saw a troll.” Iceland has an entire folklore tradition built around trolls, and the locals will tell you with a straight face that they’re very much still out there.

“You did not see a troll,” Bess calls from somewhere behind me.

“Nettie says she saw one.”

“Nettie also said she saw Elvis in the gift shop in Copenhagen!”

“I DID!” Nettie insists at top volume.

Marina escapes Tinsley’s geological lecture and joins me near a smaller steam vent that’s putting out impressive amounts of white vapor.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

“Is Tinsley being territorial?” It took everything in me not to call her a troll.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Only to anyone with functioning eyeballs.” I glance back at where Tinsley is still monopolizing Wes’s attention. “She’s not exactly subtle.”

“I don’t want to cause problems.”

“You’re not causing anything. Tinsley is creating her own problems.”

I watch as Wes finally extricates himself from Tinsley’s grip and makes his way over to us, looking equal parts apologetic and relieved.

“Sorry about that,” he says when he reaches Marina. “Tinsley’s very enthusiastic about geology.”

“Among other things,” Marina says dryly.

Wes grins. “Want to see the overlook? Apparently, there’s a great view of the whole geothermal field from up there.”

She nods. “I’d love that.”

They take off together, and I watch Tinsley’s face go through several interesting expressions before she spots another passenger who needs her organizational expertise and stalks off.

“Drama, drama, drama,” Elodie sings, appearing beside me with excellent timing. “I love it.”

“You’re terrible.”