Page 6 of Meet Me in Tahiti
Malik jogged by with a stack of plates from the decktable. “I give it a nine out of ten. No bugs, no boats, and the stars are already showing off.”
Russ allowed a faint grin, but his mind wasn’t fully there. He scanned the deck one more time out of habit, then turned his eyes briefly toward the aft seating area, where the guests were lingering with their drinks.
Five years was a long time to be away. From home, his parents, his brother and sister, and the niece and nephew he’d never even met.
And Tessa was still sitting there—legs tucked beneath her, sipping something bright and citrusy. She was laughing at whatever the guy in the Red Sox hat said—Drew, wasn’t it? But Russ noted the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Something about her seemed slightly adrift.
She didn’t seem like she’d be a problem, not at all. If anything, she’d been polite, maybe a little guarded. But she also hadn’t clung to the group the way some solo travelers did. She was content to hang back, observe, find her own rhythm.
He’d noticed her earlier, of course—who wouldn’t? Pretty, dark hair, eyes that said a lot more about her than what she let on.
That flowery sundress she wore didn’t hurt either. But it was more than that. There was a kind of quiet curiosity about her, like she was trying to make sense of everything at once—the boat, the ocean, maybe even her circumstances, which was probably understandable, considering she was supposed to have shared a cabin on this trip with a guy named Ethan, who’d apparently canceled a couple of weeks ago.
A quick call to his boss at the office in Raiatea had confirmed it. The staff had somehow failed to update the manifest. That was all. Lucky for Ethan, all he’d lost was his deposit plus one night’s stay. But it was no matter to Russ. One fewer passenger made his job easier.
Russ rolled his shoulders and turned back toward the forward lines. Best not to dwell on any of the guest’s issues, anyway. He had enough on his plate—the week’s busy schedule, the tides, the wind, the email that still hadn’t come.
Jules called out, “You want me to double-check the galley before I shut it down?”
Jules was always so helpful. He was lucky to have her assigned to his charters so often. “I already did,” Russ said. “It looks great. Go crash. We’re setting off early tomorrow.”
He took one last look at the dark water, lapping gently against the boat, then headed up for a last check of the bridge, the soft creak of the stairs echoing in the quiet.
Tessa turnedover for the third time in her bed, then sighed and kicked the sheet off entirely.
They’d sailed a short distance around the island of Moorea this afternoon and anchored for the night in a tranquil cove. They’d jumped into the sea and used the rafts to float about in the warm water for a couple ofhours, splashing and exploring. It had been—amazing, actually. She shouldn’t have worried.
But now, as the catamaran swayed gently beneath her, the motion made her feel like she was floating midair—not enough to make her sick, just… unsettled. Or maybe that was her brain.
Sleep, contrary to what she’d been told, wasn’t coming easily on a boat. Not when her body was convinced it was moving and her mind was doing laps around the thoughts she’d promised not to bring on this trip.
She tossed the sheet back over her legs, stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, then gave up.
Pulling a sweatshirt over her tank top and pajama shorts, she padded up the narrow stairs to the top deck, the quiet hush of waves wrapping around her like a lullaby that hadn’t quite worked.
The quiet hit her first. The muffled sound of laughter and chatter was gone, since the group had retired to their rooms earlier.
The stars hit her next—so many of them. The sky was absolutely glittering, a black velvet canvas dotted with light. In Miami, stars competed with the glow of the city. Here, the celestial bodies owned the night.
She exhaled slowly and leaned against the rail. She hadn’t expected to feel lonely. Even having a steady boyfriend for six months, and even having developed such a great group of friends so far from home, she was used to independence. Used to solo projects at work, solo meals, solo workouts, solo playlists.
But something about this kind of quiet—this kind ofopen ocean night—made her feel small in a way she hadn’t expected.
“You’re up late.”
She startled, spinning slightly at the hushed voice.
Captain Russ stood a few feet away, a coil of rope in one hand, vibing with the kind of easy calm that probably came from hundreds of nights like this one. He’d taken off the captain’s hat hours ago, she’d noticed, and it turned out it wasn’t the hat that made him so handsome.
“Sorry, Captain,” she said quickly. “Didn’t mean to sneak up.”
His mouth tipped at one corner. “It’s Russ. Please. And you didn’t. I saw you the second you stepped out.”
“Oh,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. She thought she’d been alone.
He tied the rope with two quick tugs and secured it to a cleat before straightening. “Can’t sleep?”
“Not really.” She hesitated. “I didn’t know the ocean could seem soactivewhen everything else is so quiet and still.”
