Chapter 7
FORMER AIR FORCE pilot Teagan Carmichael didn’t do cruises.
And yet, here he was, handing his boarding pass to the attendant, about to board the Nautica cruise liner, still a little unsure as to how his brother, J.T., had convinced him this was a good idea.
Mexico of all places. Two months ago, he and his buddies were flying into South America to rescue his brother J.T. after he’d accepted a charter flight gig to Mexico that had started out simple enough, but had ended up with J.T. and his female passenger crash-landing near the Guatemalan border.
They’d ended up in Sao Paulo, and somehow, by the grace of God, they’d made it out alive with all fingers and toes still intact, but Teagan was fairly certain luck had been a factor.
Maybe their guardian angels had cashed in some chips, because there were times Teagan had been fairly certain their goose was cooked.
Against all odds, they’d managed to not only escape, but to come out on top, which was the biggest surprise of all.
J.T. had made a lot of boneheaded decisions, but hiring on with Dr. Hope Larsen had been an unexpected blessing in several different ways.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Carmichael,” the sharply dressed male attendant said as he scanned the ticket electronically. “Enjoy your stay aboard the Nautica.”
Gulls squawked a racket, screeching at one another as dirty waves lapped at the dock, the smell of brine salting the air. Los Angeles harbors weren’t known for their beauty, but then no one was flocking to LA for the beaches, either.
Teagan nodded and walked up the gangplank to board the massive liner. Like most cruise ships, it was a city on water with every amenity, every luxury.
Bright pennant flags flapped in the wind, snapping like colorful towels, signaling something festive was about to happen on this boat, but Teagan was still questioning his decision to go through with the cruise.
He probably could’ve talked his buddies Kirk Addler or Harris McGoy into taking the cruise instead, but J.T. had felt strongly about Teagan going, so he’d caved.
And thanks to the fat payment from Tessara Pharmaceuticals from J.T.’s last charter—the one that’d subsequently trashed their only plane and nearly gotten them all killed—Teagan was staying in an upgraded stateroom.
“Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water.” An older, curvy, auburn-haired goddess wearing a fancy outfit and dripping with rings, was eyeing him with open appreciation. “If you’re representing what we have to look forward to on this singles cruise, then I’m all in, sugar.”
Oh, that’s another thing. J.T. had booked him on a cruise meant for hooking up.
Like Teagan needed a relationship right now. With rebuilding Blue Yonder Charter, revamping their business plan and generally trying to start over, he didn’t have time for slap and tickle on a regular basis.
Teagan chuckled, blushing only slightly because attention from a beautiful woman, even one considered a cougar, was still flattering as hell. But he wasn’t looking for a hook-up. No matter what J.T.’s advice had been before dropping him off at the dock.
“You need to loosen up, big brother,” J.T. had said, admonishingly. “You’re wound tighter than a drum. You’d think that almost dying would’ve reminded you that life is for the living.”
“You’re giving me advice?” Teagan had joked. “Is this a sign of the coming apocalypse?”
Because, yeah, Teagan was the cool head and J.T. was the screwup.
At least, J.T. was until he’d met that saucy redhead scientist, Hope. Now his little brother was becoming responsible and thinking with his head and not his...well, you know.
And maybe Teagan had been a little bit envious of how happy J.T. was with Hope, but seeing as he wasn’t about to do anything
