Page 51 of Fire and Ice Cruise

Marina laughs, and I can see some of the tension leave her shoulders. “I don’t want to intrude⁠—”

“Too late,” I tell her, taking a page from Nettie’s shenanigan playbook and linking my arm through hers on the other side. “You’re coming with us. Ransom, would you please buy her a ticket?”

He’s already at the booth before I finish the sentence, because the man knows better than to argue when I’m in full friendship-enforcement mode.

Five minutes later, we’re packed onto a whale watching boat with approximately sixty other tourists, all of us bundled in what appears to be glorified plastic wrap. The boat smells like diesel fuel, wet rubber, and something vaguely fishy that I’m trying not to think about too hard.

The tour guide—a cheerful Icelandic woman named Sigga who introduces herself three times just to make sure we get it—explains the safety procedures while the engine rumbles to life beneath us.

“We’ll be looking for humpback whales today,” she announces in perfect English tinged with a lovely Icelandic accent. “Also minke whales, possibly orcas if we’re very lucky. Please keep your arms inside the boat and your expectations realistic. Nature doesn’t perform on command.”

“Unlike some husbands I know,” Nettie mutters, and Ransom coughs into his hand.

Ransom can perform at the drop of a hat and I can personally attest to it—many, many delicious times.

The boat pulls away from the dock, and Isafjordur shrinks behind us. The fjord opens up as dramatic cliffs rising on either side, the water a deep gray-green, cold enough to freeze your thoughts solid. Clouds hang low and heavy, but every so often, sunlight breaks through and turns the water into hammered silver.

Marina stands at the railing beside me, her crimson hair whipping in the wind. She’s clutching her phone in one hand, and I can’t help but notice her knuckles are white.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

I wouldn’t dare tell her that I witnessed that whole heated exchange she had on the phone earlier with whoever was getting the brunt of her wrath. The poor thing looked livid and desperate all at once. And I hate that for her. I genuinely care about Marina. I want her to feel safe and loved and definitely not moved to commit a homicide.

“Oh, I’m just fine.” She pockets her phone quickly. “I’m just cold, that’s all.”

I’m pretty sure she’s lying, but I let it go. For now.

“Look!” Bess points starboard, where a dark shape breaks the surface, maybe fifty yards out.

The crowd surges toward that side of the boat—because apparently whale watching requires everyone to collectively threaten capsizing—and Sigga laughs into her microphone.

“Please distribute your weight evenly, folks. The whales will still be there if you stay on your current side of the boat.”

Unfortunately, nobody listens.

Nettie is already elbowing her way to the front, her phone held high. “I need photographic evidence or nobody back home will believe me!”

“Nobody back home believes half the things you tell them anyway,” Bess calls after her.

“Rude but accurate!”

Ransom wraps his arms around me from behind, and we watch as a humpback whale surfaces again, closer this time. Its back is massive and dark, slick with water, and when it exhales, the sound is the world’s biggest sigh followed by a spray of mist that catches the light.

“Holy wow,” I breathe.

“What do you think?” Ransom asks, warm against my ear.

“It’s magical. Sort of like you.”

I lean in, and we share a steamy kiss that somehow manages to outshine the magic of nature all around us.

The crowd screams and we pull back to see that nature is about to outdo itself.

More whales appear—two, then three, then what Sigga excitedly announces is a pod of five humpbacks feeding together. They move through the water with a grace that shouldn’t be possible for creatures that size, surfacing and diving in a rhythm that feels almost choreographed.

“You two!” Bess waves her phone at us. “Get over to that railing. I want a picture of this for posterity, and no, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Bess Chatterley, playing paparazzi?” I tease.