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Maybe she’d jump.
Or spend the whole two weeks drunk under a cabana. Either way, it was different from her small-town home with her small-town problems and even smaller-town reputation.
She was slowly shuffling with the large crowd to get onto the ship. She’d reached the first deck of staterooms when an announcement came on.
“Welcome aboard, passengers! I’m Captain Mike, and we’ll be setting off soon. But while everyone is getting settled, the bars on all decks will be open, as will the pools and restaurants. So go have fun, and we’ll get set to sea shortly!”
Bars were open? Perfect. It didn’t matter that it was ten in the morning. Hannah was on West Coast time, which meant it was really 7:00 a.m., so a Bloody Mary sounded amazing.
She explored the top deck. Massive pools and hot tubs, all sectioned off with different themes. No kids’ area. This cruise was meant for adults for sure.
So Hannah would be surrounded by retirees and honeymooners and single losers. Like her. But she’d make the best of it, since it was her one shot at sunshine and forgetting all the crap in her life. Like a dead-end job where she was starting to worry she’d only ever be a waitress instead of a business owner. And a father who was slowly killing himself with an addiction Hannah had been cleaning up after since she was a girl.
She took a deep breath of the humid air and found a small bar open and vacant. It was in the corner of the bow and had a Hawaiian tiki theme. She sat on the bar stool that was wrapped in fake grass and ordered a drink.
“Can I get a . . .” She should say something classy or normal for a morning drink. Like her go-to Bloody Mary, or even a mimosa. Instead she looked at the wall of liquor . . .
Fuck it.
“Three fingers of Gentleman Jack, please.”
The bartender nodded. Didn’t ask questions, didn’t pass judgment, just poured her drink and set it in front of her.
“You look like you have the right idea,” a husky voice said. Hannah looked to her left and saw the voice was attached to a sinfully sexy man with thick hair and piercing eyes. And judging by the white button-down shirt and blue slacks, he could use a vacation more than her. Though, in his defense, his clothes fit him perfectly. Expensive. She could almost see his toned muscles beneath the crisp cotton.
“Can I get the same thing the lady is having?” he asked the bartender. And again, the bartender silently poured and placed his drink in front of him.
Hannah took a sip of her own drink and tried to ignore the stranger.
But that was difficult, since he was looking right at her.
“Can I help you?” she said over her glass.
“I was just wondering who you were going to be these next two weeks.”
“Ex
cuse me?” she asked.
The man smiled, and holy hell, was it a smile. Bright, straight teeth, and his jawline was strong, housing the slightest dimples.
“You’re on a boat for two weeks. Going to meet people, I’m sure.” His gaze trailed over her, and she felt seen for the first time in . . . ever. At least, seen in a way she wanted to be seen. Because the beautiful stranger was looking at her like she was edible. And part of her really wanted to be eaten.
“You could be anyone,” he finished.
Hannah nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” She watched him take a drink and lifted her chin in his direction. “Who are you going to be?”
He turned in his chair to face her fully. “Grant Laythem, only without all his problems.”
She raised a brow. “Grant Laythem, huh? Sounds like there should be a ‘the third’ at the end of a name like that.”
He laughed. “No, none of that. My mother wanted to torture me by giving me a name that sounded like a law firm.”
Now Hannah laughed—and realized her drink was gone. Something Grant also noticed, because with a flick of his wrist, the bartender was back, filling both their glasses again.
“What kind of problems would a Grant Laythem have?” She looked him over. “Debutante balls and polo matches?”
“You think I’m a snobby rich guy.”
