believing that this meant they were on the same team. In fact, he was pretty sure they were playing different sports. And whatever this was, he was perpetually three steps behind.
Between Amy’s cold shoulder and his family’s nagging, he knew there was no chance he was getting away from this trip without making everyone mad at him, one way or another. That’s why he’d prefer being in the field. At least then he had a clear objective—and a team to back him up if he ever got in over his head.
“Are you even listening to me?”
He jerked his mind back to his cousin. “Of course I am.”
Kaneesha narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Uh-huh.” Jordan’s attention shifted back to Amy. The gold highlights in the navy blue dress made her deep brown skin glow, and the highlights in her wavy hair shone in the late-afternoon sun.
“It’s good to see you, Amy.”
She nodded, the briefest acknowledgment. Then asked, “How’s Will?”
Of course she’d ask about his SEAL teammate. She’d been friends with Will Gumble for years. The fact that she’d barely acknowledged Jordan’s status as anything more than a barnacle on the hull of a ship meant they hadn’t progressed past prolonged apologies.
“He’s fine. Jess is about to pop. Will’s pretty excited about being a dad.”
She offered a flicker of a smile. He knew she still took credit for getting Will and Jess back together after ten years apart. And he had to give Amy credit. As a DEA agent, she’d been able to get Will set up with a false identity and thrown into a drug cartel’s compound where Jess had been held captive. Working together under the noses of their captors, they’d managed to save the day—and Will had won Jess over.
Suddenly their foursome became five, as a young girl bounded up to them from the dance floor.
“There you are!”
All four adults turned to the girl, whose pink cheeks couldn’t hide her delight or the effects of the brisk wind. And Amy’s eyes, always so expressive, grew round. “Elaina, what are you doing here?” She gracefully dipped to look the girl Jordan recognized as her eight-year-old niece in the eye. “I thought your dad took you back to your suite after dinner.”
Elaina shrugged. “I came to find you. I didn’t want to stay in my room.” A shadow of doubt crossed her face, and she reached for Amy’s hand. “My dad had to make a secure call from the captain’s office again. I was lonely.”
Neesha’s smile blossomed, and she bent to give Elaina a hug. “We can’t have our flower girl spending the evening all alone. Come on.” With a tug, she led Elaina and Rodney toward the dance floor and began to spin.
Amy crossed her arms as her gaze narrowed on her niece, and Jordan could do nothing but shove his hands deeper into his pockets, unsure what to say.
After a long pause, she spoke, barely loud enough to be heard over the thumping music coming from the DJ in the corner. “I worry about her. Ever since her mom died, it just seems like Michael is working more and more.”
Jordan nodded. Not that she deigned to glance in his direction.
“It’s hard for a little girl when her dad isn’t around.”
He knew she had some personal experience on that front. Her parents had split when she was young, and her dad hadn’t really been a part of her life. But despite a nearly twenty-year history between them—she was Neesha’s best friend after all—she’d never talked about it with him. Their conversations had rarely dipped below the surface.
Fair was fair, though—it wasn’t as if he’d ever chosen to confide in her. She knew about the circumstances of his childhood—messed up as it had been—because Neesha couldn’t keep from spilling every single bean she had. But it didn’t mean they talked about it. Ever.
Amy’s soft voice pulled him from his thoughts again.
“I tried really hard...but when Michael was sent to Lybania and I was transferred...”
Yeah, he knew that Michael Torres was now the US ambassador to Lybania. Jordan had actually met him after the mission that forced Jordan to cancel his sort-of date with Amy. But he couldn’t admit that he’d met Amy’s brother-in-law before this cruise. Not when the mission was still classified.
“Mmm-hmm.” It was more grunt than acknowledgment, but it was enough for her to jerk her head up, her gaze sharp and surprised, like she’d forgotten who she was talking to.
“You don’t have to pretend like you want to listen to me.” Her tone wasn’t bitter, but there was a distinct crispness in her words.
“I’m not pretending.” If they could smooth over so many months of awkwardness between them just by talking about other people, he’d be happy to listen to her for hours. But he knew it wasn’t that simple. Even if neither of them wanted to talk about it, they still needed to address the elephant on the lido deck. Rubbing the top of his head, he stared at his shoes for a long moment. “Listen, Amy, I’m—”
With a swift wave of her hand, she cut him off. “Please don’t. We’ve been through this enough times. You’ve apologized. Your teammates have apologized on your behalf. I’m just surprised that you haven’t sent your pastor to apologize.”
He tried for a laugh, but it came out dry and throaty and wholly unlike his normal chuckle.
When she looked into his eyes, hers were sure and unflinching. “I accept your apology.” Only her tone suggested the exact opposite.
“But we can’t be friends?”
“I think it’s better if we aren’t. Don’t you?”
She didn’t give him time to answer. She just stalked in Neesha’s direction, flashing a smile at Elaina as she danced across the hardwood floor, leaving him to wonder if he’d ever get a second chance.
He wasn’t used to accepting defeat. Especially not after battling through the rigors of the BUD/S—Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL—training. He’d been pushed to his limits both mentally and physically, and ever since then, giving up hadn’t been part of his MO. Throwing in the towel on whatever he and Amy could have been didn’t sit well with him.
They were stuck in a floating party together for five more days, so he might as well spend the time figuring out how to get her to really forgive him.
* * *
“Rodney can dance!”
“Not as well as you.” Amy laughed, spinning Elaina around the dance floor as a DJ played her favorite Cyndi Lauper song from the 80s.
Elaina threw her head back and smiled up at the sky as it faded to ink, her stick-straight hair swinging wide around her shoulders. “Can we do this all night?”
“No.” Amy gave Elaina her best fake-stern look. She had a real stern one, too. But she saved that for drug runners and cokeheads with big guns.
“Oh, please. I don’t want to go back to my room.” There was a slight tremor in the girl’s voice that put Amy on her guard.
