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“Who?” I pull the blanket closer around my shoulders.

“Nah, you’re smarter than that.”

I nod. “It’s going to rain.” I’m too raw for this conversation, my nerves scraped bare by the revelation of my father’s involvement. By the knowledge that I’m out of my depth when it comes to my feelings for Dean Evans.

“Do you like him?”

What is this, fifth grade?The question almost slips out, but I stop myself. Another shiver shakes me and Thompson reaches out, clamping my shoulder. I look up at him, hair whipping out of my hastily tied braid. Trying to focus on anything but the reality of where we’re going.

More hair lashes across my face.Ahhhh. I will never go anywhere without my no-slip grip rubber bands again. Part of me is surprised my hair hasn’t poked someone’s eye out at this point.

“You don’t have to answer. But I know him. I’ve known him for years. He’s saved my life a few times.” Thompson jerks his chin to where Dean stands, glowering at me. “He’s got it bad for you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” My throat is tight.

“Of course it matters.”

“But he’ll leave when this is over, and I’ll be left with what?” I blink rapidly.

Thompson sighs, pulling me into him. “Don’t cry. I can’t stand it when pretty women cry.”

I make a noise somewhere between a sniffle and a laugh. “I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of trying and getting hurt.”

He lets me go, pushing me away and resuming his lean against the railing. His biceps flex as he braces against a wave. Tea sloshes over the top of the cup.

“I think we’re all tired of that.” His eyes look old, the good humor replaced by something darker. “He’s got walls up. The last woman, she did a real number on him.”

“I’m not her.” I’m sick of hearing about this other woman.

He chuckles again, a dark sound. “All I’m saying is if you like him, you should try. At least a little bit. I think he’ll meet you halfway.”

“I don’t want halfway.”

Thompson reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to worry about halfway with Dean Evans. He’s all or nothing.”

He studies me, eyes lingering for half a second too long on my lips. “It’s a good thing he found you first.”

I have nothing to say to that, so I take another sip of the lukewarm tea. He dips his head and walks away.

The sea rolls under the boat, gray-green and inscrutable. Leaning my elbows against the railing, I turn Thompson’s words over in my head.

I like Dean.

A lot.

He’s a good man: smart, funny, kind, with a drive that matches my own.

We’ll probably have the shipment in the next hour. And then what?

We have a few nights together, if we’re lucky, and Dean and his merry band of man-meat will be on their way to their next job.

It’s a surefire path to heartbreak, continuing thisthingbetween us. I don’t aim for things that aren’t possible.

Well, except for theSantu Espiritu. No one seemed to believe I’d find that, and look how that turned out.

Self-satisfaction curls in my chest, purring like a happy cat.

At least I have that. At least I found theSantu Espiritu.