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Why?
Her steps faltered and she righted herself quickly. Caroline didn’t have to prove herself to anyone . . . but herself. She could do whatever she wanted—that would be her mantra moving forward. No one in Seaport knew her. What did she care what some boat captain thought of her?
Nothing.
In Seaport she was a new person.
As she passed by the shack, she stopped and went inside.
“Can I leave my bag in here?” she asked Ana, who nodded. “I won’t need my phone, right?”
“Here.” Ana handed her a waterproof cell phone cover. “You’re doing tours today and you might find something to take photos of. There’s a ton of historical preservation along the route Dune takes.”
“Thank you.” Caroline slipped her phone into the pouch and then into the built-in pocket of the shorts. “I appreciate your help.”
“No problem. When you’re done, if I’m gone for the day, Dune has the keys. He can get your bag for you.”
Sure, he will.
“Great. Have a great day!”
Caroline made her way down the dock and to the boat where Dune was. She lingered there, unsure if she should get on board or not. “Dune?” she called out, but there was no response.
“Are you going to just stand there?”
Again, Caroline jumped at the sound of his voice.
“Why do you keep sneaking up on me?” she put her hands on her hips and glared.
Instead of answering her, Dune placed a baseball cap over her bun. “It’s going to be hot, and you don’t want to burn your head.”
He stepped back onto the boat, and Caroline quickly followed while trying to secure her hair through the opening of the hat. “I knew I should’ve brought my sun hat.”
Dune scoffed. “That big thing I saw you wearing?” he asked. Before she could respond, he continued, “That’s a leisure hat. Something you wear to the beach, not when you’re working on a boat.”
“It’s the only thing I have.”
“Well, now you have a new one to wear.” Dune scrutinized her. At least, that was how Caroline felt. She shifted her weight under his gaze. “People will start arriving soon. Our first tour leaves at eight this morning. Do you know how to make mimosas?”
Caroline nodded.
“Follow me.”
They climbed a set of stairs and stepped into an open-air sitting room with table and chairs. Dune took her behind the bar, where champagne, sparkling wine, and a variety of juices were on the counter.
“We offer mimosas on every morning cruise we do. Only during the evening cruises do we offer cocktails.”
“Okay.” Caroline nodded as she listened to his instructions.
“For the first three cruises today, you’ll make mimosas. Keep track of how many bottles of champagne and wine you go through, and we’ll restock them when we get back to the pier.”
“Seems easy enough.”
Dune nodded and left her there. Caroline saw little that needed to be done, so she familiarized herself with where everything was. She studied the labels and memorized the juices they offered.
This time, when Dune reappeared, she didn’t jump, and he came back with the two men who had been on her tour yesterday.
“This is Speed and Wilson. This is—”
“I’m Caroline Taylor,” she stuck her hand out to shake theirs.
“I was getting to that,” Dune smarted.
“Yes, but since you like to call me that horrible nickname, I thought I’d save myself from having to hear it again.”
Dune’s eyebrow rose, as if he challenged her to prove him wrong. She would, once she figured out how to.
“Nice to meet you, Caroline,” Wilson said. “I’ll be around if you need any help or if anyone gets rowdy.”
“I appreciate that,” she said back to him.
“I’ll be the one in control,” Speed said.
“I don’t know what that is.” Caroline looked at each of the men and shrugged.
“Speed’s driving the boat,” Dune told her.
“And what do you do?” Caroline asked. “Do you greet every guest with the same sunny disposition as you’ve greeted me?” Caroline’s brow matched the arch of Dune’s earlier one.
“She’s got you there, Captain.” Speed tapped Dune on his stomach, much to Dune’s dismay. He grumbled something under his breath and then left.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Wilson said.
“Is he always so standoffish?”
Speed and Wilson laughed. “Nope, he’s a ray of fucking sunshine on a cloudy day.”
“Huh?” Caroline watched the doorway Dune had walked through. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to come back or not. What she wanted to do was a good job, so he’d respect her a bit more and not keep referring to her as “rich girl.”
By the time the first person boarded the boat, Caroline’s nerves had set in. Her palms were sweating, and she suddenly couldn’t remember how to make a drink she’d made (and drank) a million times over. What was the champagne-to-juice ratio?
Her first customer approached the bar and asked what juices they had. “Orange, pineapple, peach, cranberry, pomegranate, mango, and grapefruit.”
