already far away, and stopped short.
Hannah plowed into the back of him, and he reached back to steady her. When she held her own, he turned to her, the woman he was stuck at sea with, the first woman he’d ever fallen for. And while logically he knew he was long over it, over her, there was nothing rational about how just looking at her had made his heart roll over in his chest and expose its underbelly.
She gave him a look he couldn’t begin to interpret and then stalked to the cockpit.
Harry stood there, hands on the helm as he steered, chewing on an unlit cigar, looking fully at ease as he eyed the navigation systems.
“What the actual hell, Dad?” Hannah asked.
Harry glanced over at them. “Problem?”
“Are you kidding me?”
Harry flashed his stepdaughter a grin before looking at James. “Just got a text from your parents. They never got out of New York. Planes are grounded due to a massive snowstorm. They’re going to catch up with us in San Juan.”
A stay of execution . . .
“Take us back, Dad,” Hannah said.
“No can do, Smalls. We’ve got our own storm system moving in. No worries, though. If all goes to plan, we’ll stay well ahead of it.”
“Dad, this is silly. There’s no reason for you to waste the fuel and rations for only the two of us. Just take us back.”
At the emotion in her voice, Harry took his gaze off the horizon to look at her.
James did not. He’d already soaked up the sight of her in that adorably sexy sundress. Plus, he’d just quite literally been beneath her, which had stirred up a lot of things best forgotten. His brain knew this, it did. But the rest of him hadn’t quite caught up. He hadn’t seen her in years, and the last time he had was right here on this boat, when he’d watched her walk away from him.
“This isn’t happening,” she said, tossing up her hands. “Turn us around.”
“As I mentioned, James’s parents are going to catch up with us in Puerto Rico. Same with your mom, I’m sure.” He smiled around the cigar. “Damn, it’s going to be great to all be together again.”
“Dad, that’s at least three days from now.”
Harry looked over the instruments, did a quick calculation, and shook his head. “Actually, with the headwind, maybe even four.”
“Look, Dad . . . just don’t get your heart set on this, okay? You know how Mom can be.”
“No, this year she’s coming,” Harry said firmly. “I can feel it.”
Hannah didn’t say anything to this, just slid dark sunglasses on her face. But the worry wasn’t hard to read, concern likely with good reason. Leslie Banfield liked to make promises, but she wasn’t as fond of keeping them. Same as Harry. Growing up, James had hated that for Hannah.
She had her arms crossed over her chest. Clearly there was something more than just worry on her mind.
James knew this woman. Or at least he’d known the girl she’d once been. She was smart as hell, passionate, and incredibly dedicated to those she cared about.
Once upon a time he’d been one of those people.
“Dad, this isn’t funny,” Hannah said.
And yeah, there was definitely something more in her voice besides worry. He turned to her. “What’s going on?”
She kept her gaze on her dad. “You mean other than the captain kidnapping us against our will?”
Harry sighed. “Do you really want to be the one to call your mom and tell her we’re not spending Christmas together this year?”
“Dad—”
“See this little dot?” Harry asked, pointing to his screen. “That’s us. See this other dot over there? That’s the port of San Juan. That’s how far we have to go. So nothing personal, Smalls, but I’d rather take on you two any day of the week than a pissed-off Leslie.”
Guilt. That was the unnamed emotion on Hannah’s face, and it flashed again now. Not that James gave a shit. All he did give a damn about was the fact that for at least three days, maybe four, they were stuck on this boat together—a complete nightmare. Especially since he still had absolutely no idea what had happened the last time he and Hannah had been together.
Granted, he’d been royally messed up at that time. Years ago, Jason had died of a rare and misdiagnosed heart condition. His family had fallen apart, and James had . . . lost himself. So much so that he’d asked Hannah to walk away