Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“That’s the one where Picard lives that whole life in his head after being hit by a probe, correct?”
She somberly nods and places her empty hand on her chest. “It hurts. It legit hurts every time I watch it. Nae and I have to have a carton of ice cream on emergency standby.”
I lightly laugh, shake my head once more, and drop a kiss onto the side of her forehead, not only relieved that she’s open to the idea, but that we talked about it.
That we can talk about things, not just fight.
My mouth twitches to express my gratitude about that when Holmes’s large palm lands firmly on my shoulder and his words closely to my ear. “Hurst is reporting suspicious activity coming from the south and advising us to proceed directly to the yacht.”
I angle my face away from Bryn’s that’s battling strands being kicked up by the wind to ask, “Should we head home instead?”
“Park believes the inaccessibility of a yacht by an outside party is a wiser safety measure.”
“Unless that’s their plan,” I hiss back at the hushed volume. “Force us to the boat and attack there.”
Holmes flashes a small cringe on an even smaller shrug. “That’s a possibility, Wilcox; however, you don’t pay me to consider those types of strategies. You pay Park for that. And Park doesn’t seem concerned with an aquatic attack.”
“Perhaps he should be.”
“Maybe he should, but,” another bounce of his shoulders is wedged between statements, “between what Hurst has reported and the less than subtle movements I’ve been observing of that woman in the pineapple print bikini at our two o’clock, I would advise us moving to the yacht now where the three of you are easier to cover, we have high ground, and a weapons advantage.”
An immediate nod of agreement is given.
“Everything okay?” Bryn cautiously inquires as Holmes lags back to speak into his earpiece.
My jaw lowers, a casual lie of protection prepared to soar off, yet I stop.
Take a small swipe of my lips.
Release a deep breath and let her haunting words from just a couple days ago rewrite my words.
“No.”
Her eyebrows immediately launch to the beautiful blue sky.
“We’ve got questionable activity surrounding us, so we’re going to have to abandon seashell hunting and head straight for the yacht.”
She bobs her head in understanding and swiftly calls out, “Little Fins! Come here!”
Wy dramatically spins towards us and shouts, “Not done!”
“I wasn’t asking,” sasses his mother sharply. “I’m telling.”
The phrasing thankfully works yet to showcase his displeasure he comes to linger near me rather than her. “I touble?”
“No, Little Hero,” reassurance is attached to swooping him up into my arms, preparing to shield him as much as her. “We just need to get to the boat where the Captain Wally is waiting.”
“Captain Wally!” Wy enthusiastically exclaims on a clapping of his tiny hands. “I be Captain!”
Huh.
Why didn’t that cross my mind?
Considering he loves the captains on Star Trek and the ocean and bossing people around, a ship captain actually makes quite a bit of sense.
Our walk across what remains of the beach to our waiting golf cart is quick as is the drive over with Hill to the marina where the yachts are docked.
The process of getting loaded and settled onto La Bouteille En Verre – The Glass Bottle – provides security with an easy cover to extensively sweep the area while Wy, Bryn, and myself casually chat with Walter Rosewood – aka Wally – in the wheelhouse where he lets our son wear his hat.
Pretend to steer.
He gives fake directions to Wy who rambles them back to an imaginary crew – since the actual crew is busy preparing for departure – in between telling us how having his heartbroken in the small town he grew up in – Sunshine Bend – ultimately led him to indulging in the life of his dreams, which is this.
Living on and driving a beautiful vessel.
Once everyone is given the all clear on both land and water, we head for the open waters.
It doesn’t take long for our son to get noticeably fussy, revealing the obvious need for a nap, and instead of discussing who should put him down I volunteer.
Insist she goes down to the pool.
Relax.
Enjoy basking in the sun as much as the cool ocean air.
The process of getting Wy to crash out on a boat is vastly easier than that of the estate or penthouse and having Helena McLain, our on-yacht nanny who is also Wally’s much, much younger life partner, on duty to assist with bringing him to us when he awakes provides Bryn and I both with an adequate amount of comfort to truly unwind while he’s out of sights.
About the time I arrive at the pool area where Byn is stretched out in the water, peacefully staring out into the waves, we’re joined by Hurst who seems to have information to report.