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“We don’t need no stinkin’ badges,” Nettie growls out the words.
A part of me has always wanted to say that, so I offer her an appreciative smile for saying it for me.
“And look at these hands.” Nettie does a few loose Karate-inspired moves with her arms. “There’s a reason they’re classified as lethal weapons in forty-eight out of fifty states. In fact, I’m not even allowed to set foot in the states in question.”
Bess grunts, “And believe me, she’s working on the other two.”
Ransom penetrates me with those cobalt blue eyes. “If you continue to meddle, you’ll not only be putting yourself at risk, but you’ll be putting Bess and Nettie in danger as well.”
“Meddle?” I ask with more than a touch of umbrage in my tone.
Without warning, Wes shows up and pulls a chair up to the table.
“Captain,” I say brightly as he takes a seat among us. He’s just the change of direction we needed. The last person to accuse me of meddling in anything was my ex. And if Ransom doesn’t want to be added to the shortlist of my exes, I move we end the conversation. “So glad you could join us.”
Tinsley swoops in next to the captain with a seat of her own. “I don’t surmise I’ll get the same greeting.”
“What’s happening here?” Nettie squints as if trying to make out the two players that just landed at the table.
“Looks to me like a hostile takeover,” Ransom mutters.
Although judging by the timing, it’s a most welcome one.
I still can’t believe he accused me of meddling.
I’m not meddling, am I?
“Evening.” Tinsley clears her throat. She’s donned a chiffon and lace number in pale pink and looks as if she’s headed to prom circa 1950. Her chestnut locks run down her shoulders like a dark unknowable river—most likely filled with crocodiles and demons. Just an educated guess on my part. “Just so everyone is apprised, the captain and I are here on official business.”
“It’s true.” Wes tips his head to the side as if he can’t believe it. I’ll admit, he looks darn right regal in his all-white captain’s attire. Personally, I’d be terrified to eat in that color, let alone breathe in it. “Trixie, I’m sorry to have to bother you with this, and at dinner no less, but Tinsley is insistent I get to the bottom of something asap.”
“Not true.” Tinsley doesn’t mind usurping him in the conversation. “I requested we wait until morning and take it up with the kind folks at Royal Lineage Cruise Lines.”
Royal Lineage owns the Emerald Queen along with an entire fleet of other luxurious jewels that sail the ocean blue.
“What’s the matter?” Ransom cocks his head her way, assuring she has his full attention.
“She’s the matter.” Tinsley doesn’t hesitate to point a well-polished finger my way. “Or more to the point, she’s the menace. Trixie has started rumors that the ship is haunted.”
“Haunted?” Ransom sighs her way as if he’s resigned to the fact he’s dealing with a nutcase.
It’s a good act, considering he’s a ghost himself. He’s probably had years of training in that department. Although, for as much as I know, he could have been dead for centuries.
My goodness, what if I’ve got a vampire on my hands?
Not that I believe in vampires, but up until a couple of months ago, I didn’t believe in ghosts either.
He could be a goblin for all I know, but if he was, he’d be the sexiest darn goblin that ever gobbled.
Speaking of gobbling, he is certainly nibble-worthy in that suit. To Nettie’s point, why exactly aren’t we knocking boots again?
Oh, that’s right. I’m essentially a prude.
No, wait, that’s not true.
I’m a good girl. A good Protestant girl who still thinks a marriage certificate is worth more than the paper it’s printed on.
But do I really think a man like Ransom has matrimonial aspirations—with me no less?
