“I’m not that tall,” I responded. “It’s just that you are just a couple inches away from being a midget.”
“I am not!” she cried with mock indignity. I smiled a little.
“Landon thought it was important to be able to handle any kind of…situation.”
“Like surviving at sea?”
“At sea, in the desert, in the jungle, in a cave, downtown Manhattan – whatever.”
She giggled again.
Holy shit. What was it about that sound that got me so worked up? I took a deep breath and said a mental “down boy” prayer to my crotch.
“Is he…still alive?” she asked.
“As far as I know,” I said. We were approaching dangerous territory faster than I would have liked. “I haven’t talked to him in a while.”
“I lost my father a few years ago,” Raine said.
I had expected as much. I tilted my head in what I hoped came off as a sympathetic gesture. I debated asking her what happened to him, but I really didn’t want to get into such depth of conversation – not with her or anyone else. Too much talking about oneself was dangerous. I kind of liked listening to her talk, though. About the time I decided to go ahead and ask her, she opened up her mouth and told me anyway.
“He was a police officer,” she said quietly. “He died in the line of duty.”
Great.
I wasn’t sure if it was irony, karma, Murphy’s Law, or fucking feng shui, but it just figured her dad had been a cop.
“I was still in high school when it happened,” she continued. “And all that was kind of a nightmare, really, so I got my GED, got emancipated, and spent a couple years in college. I couldn’t really cope and dropped out last spring. I’m planning to start again in the fall, though. My friend Lindsay convinced me to take this cruise so I could relax and have a good time before I start my life over again.”
Raine issued a short, humorless laugh.
“Relaxing, huh?”
“I’ll let you know when the spa opens,” I said. I meant it as a joke and hoped it didn’t come out too harsh. “You picked the wrong vacation.”
“I would say so, yes,” Raine agreed, “but it could be worse.”
“How the fuck could it be worse?” I snorted.
“Well, at least you found me,” she said, shrugging. “I could have drowned, or I could have ended up on a raft by myself and not know what to do. If I have to be on a life raft out in the middle of nowhere, I have the feeling you are the person to be with.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to think about exactly what she was saying. I knew she just meant I had essential survival skills, but she just sounded so grateful. I don’t think anyone ever really talked to me – or about me – in that particular tone before.
“Yeah, if you were really unlucky, you would have ended up with John Paul.”
“I thought John Paul was sweet.”
“You talked to him?” Stupid question. Of course she had talked to him; he was practically a one-man cruise director. He talked to everyone.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Alejandro was making waffles for breakfast, and John Paul told me to have it with blueberries instead of strawberries. He said Alejandro bought the strawberries super cheap and they were absolutely nasty.”
She giggled again. Damn.
“The blueberries were really good.” Raine smiled, looked straight into my eyes with her dark brown lashes half obscuring her irises, and giggled again.
Holy shit. I had to stop breathing for a second. She said something else, but I totally missed it.
“What?”
“I said, did you have the waffles with blueberries, too?”
“No.” I shook my head, “not my kind of breakfast.”
“What is your kind of breakfast?”
“Coffee with Kahlua and a half pack of cigarettes.”
“Seriously?”
“Only thing that keeps me awake.”
“What about lunch?”
“Oh, I usually eat lunch,” I said. “Whatever Alejandro brought to the pilothouse I would eat. I’m not too picky about food, as long as it isn’t crappy food.”
“What’s crappy food?” she asked.
“You know – like chips and red meat and candy and shit. I never eat that stuff.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not good for you.”
She laughed out loud, which was almost as cute as the giggling, but not quite.
“You drink and smoke breakfast, but you won’t eat a candy bar?”
“Yep.”
“Does that really make sense to you?”
“Yep.”
“Do you think you could explain it?” she asked, tossing a handful of hair over her shoulder. “Because I think that sounds absolutely ridiculous.”
“It isn’t fucking ridiculous,” I growled, glaring at her. “Alcohol gets processed by your liver and doesn’t affect muscle mass. Chips and other shit like that are wasted calories in fat which slows you the fuck down. Red meat is too hard to digest, has too much protein and too much fat.”
“What about the candy?”
“It rots your teeth.”
Raine smiled with one eyebrow arched towards me but didn’t laugh again.
“Change the fucking subject,” I warned. “Otherwise I’m going to start being a dick.”