Page 64 of Hearts Aweigh

“G OOD NIGHT , P RINCESS M ADDIE .”

Abby kissed her favorite passenger’s forehead as she tucked her into bed.

The lovable little girl’s eyes closed when her head touched the silk pillowcase.

After tiptoeing from the room, Abby peeked over the balcony.

Two waiters cleaned the remainder of their room service meal from the dining table below.

She waited until they left the suite before heading downstairs.

Spencer sat on the couch, perusing his tablet. He spotted her and smiled. “There you are.”

Abby flopped onto the couch beside him. She’d insisted on dressing in her Monarch polo and shorts to stem any gossip the waitstaff might spread about her dining with them.

But she couldn’t resist wearing a too-tight platform sandal to lessen the height difference between her and Spencer, in case he tried to steal a kiss or two before she left.

So far, the sacrifice had been in vain. She bent over, wedged her finger between her foot and the back of the shoe, and moaned.

“What is it?” Spencer dropped his tablet on the couch and leaned closer.

“My feet don’t like these shoes. I’ve been running around in sneakers for the past two years in the Kids Kingdom. I wonder if I can get away with walking barefoot to my cabin.”

“Unprofessional.”

“Easy for you to say.” Abby slid away and kicked off one shoe, lifted her leg, and pointed the other platform heel in his direction. “You don’t have to wear a pair of these. Whoever invented them should be locked up.”

Spencer grabbed the sandal waving half an inch from his knee. “I assure you it wasn’t me. Please point your weapon in another direction.”

Abby tried to lower her foot, but he held on. “You’d better let go unless”—she wiggled her toes—“you’re planning on giving me a foot massage.”

Spencer regarded the jerking digits. He scooted up in his seat and propped her foot on his knee. “Why not.”

“Excuse me?” Abby’s foot curled as he slipped the shoe off. “I was joking. You can let go.”

He ignored her. His warm hands settled on her bare skin, and his fingers kneaded the sore flesh. “I talked with Daisy today.”

“Good.” Abby applauded. “You both need to bond.”

“You must’ve been surprised at my mother’s reaction to our dating announcement. She practically told you to dump me.”

“Have you two always been so … forgive me for saying it but … cold to one another?”

“Mastersons aren’t known for their compassion.” His pressure on her foot increased. “Money. Power. Strength. We possess those in abundance. But whoever designed the family gene pool left out the softer attributes.”

“I beg to differ.” Abby pointed upward. “God put quite a bit of caring in the three Mastersons I’ve become acquainted with.”

“Three?” His fingers stilled.

“Daisy, Maddie, and you.”

“I can’t deny Madeleine’s sympathetic side.” He rubbed again. “No idea where she got it from.”

“None?” Abby smiled at the millionaire who was massaging her sore foot without complaint.

“Can’t have come from me.” He snorted. “And it definitely wasn’t inherited from her mother. Maybe there’s a saint hidden somewhere in the family lineage. Perhaps compassion skips a few generations.”

His gentle fingers stroked the arch of her foot.

The soothing pressure might have put her to sleep if the butterflies in her tummy weren’t doing figure eights.

If only this moment could last forever. But the ship reached home port in two days.

He’d return to Louisiana, and she’d start her teaching job in Florida.

Would their newfound relationship withstand the distance?

Harsh reality paralyzed her butterflies.

She pulled her foot back, tucked it under her, and locked her arms over her stomach. “I’m sorry to ruin this sweetness with cold, hard facts, but we should talk about what happens when the cruise is over.”

The wary look he gave her was hardly encouraging, but she continued.

“Your job is important to you, and once I start teaching, my schedule will be more packed than ever.” Abby rubbed her arms. “I’ll be happy to spend all the minor holidays visiting you and Maddie in New Orleans, but would you consider coming to Florida in December?

I’m from a big family, and they’d raise a ruckus if I missed our Christmas traditions. ”

He made a swift turn. “I’ve been considering the logistics, and I’ve landed on the best solution.”

“Super!” Abby drew her other leg under her and sat on her heels. “What is it?”

“Marry me.”

Abby pressed the flap of skin that covered her earhole. She wasn’t sure what it was called, but if she pushed it in and out a few more times, it might fix the problem. Something had to be wrong with her hearing. “What did you say?”

“Marry me,” Spencer repeated. “Now, before the ship docks in Galveston.”

A half laugh, half gasp escaped her lips. No moonlit beach, no candles, no rose petals strewn on the floor. In fact, her shoes littered the living room rug. She bolted to her feet.

He followed, staring her down.

Abby’s bare toes twitched on the soft area rug. Without the extra inches her sandals provided, Spencer towered over her. But he looked nothing like a giant. He looked like a scared little boy asking someone to be his friend at a new school.

She wanted more than anything to be that friend. And more. But this was crazy!

“How can we get married?”

“I know these boats have ministers since you dated one of them. Or don’t ship captains have some sort of special ability to perform ceremonies? We’ll ask him to do it.”

Abby held her hands to her eyes like a pair of blinders, trying desperately to focus. Could she accept his proposal? They still barely knew each other.

She lowered her hands. “We’ve been dating one day.”

He rubbed his throat. “I know it’s fast.”

“Cheetah fast.”

“It floors me that I’m the one suggesting it.

I’m always the most rational person in the room.

” He grasped her arms. “But I lose all reason when it comes to you. Limiting our relationship to phone calls and holiday visits sickens me. Maddie and I both need you.” He drew her into a warm embrace. “We both love you.”

Abby rose on her tippy-toes without realizing.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew his face down.

His head tilted, welcoming the kiss. His other hand reached around her and splayed on her lower back, urging her closer.

Abby’s eyes started to drift closed when she came to her senses.

She jerked away and pressed against his chest.

His gaze clouded. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m forcing myself to be the logical one for the first time in my life.” She laughed. “Every atom in my body is shouting yes, but what if you regret it?”

“Impossible.” He squeezed her in a hug and pulled her up so her feet dangled against his legs. His cheek settled on top of her head.

Rational thought dissolved, but Abby made one last, futile attempt. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with a sore neck whenever you kiss your wife?”

He leaned back with a wolfish grin. “We’ll keep a step stool in every room.”

And then he proceeded to demonstrate how well he could do without one.

“Daddy, what are you doing?”

Abby dropped to earth with a thud. She and Spencer sprang apart and looked at Maddie, who stood at the bottom of the steps in her pajamas. Her wide eyes stared.

Abby wanted to race from the room and keep going till her feet hit water, but Spencer took her by the hand.

“I have a question, Madeleine. How would you like to be our flower girl when I marry Abby?”

Talk about blunt. Did he have to launch right into it without a buildup? What if Maddie didn’t like the idea?

But Maddie didn’t give a big reaction. Instead, she remained where she was. “What’s a flower girl?” she asked

“What’s a—?” Spencer scratched his head. “Well, you’ll carry a basket with flowers and stand with us while we get married.”

“Will there be a lot of people there?”

“No, sweetie.” Abby rushed to kneel in front of her. “Just a few people you already know. Are you okay with that?”

“I guess so.” Maddie blinked.

Spencer joined them and hunkered down. “We’ll have a short wedding in the chapel. Grandma Daisy will be there. You’ll get to wear a pretty dress, and”—he seemed to be scrambling for the right words—“and eat a big, fancy cake when we’re done.”

“Cake?” Maddie’s face brightened. “Yay! Can we get married tomorrow?”

He laughed. “Oh, Maddie. I love you.” Spencer drew his daughter into a hug. “Yes, we can get married tomorrow.”

The butterflies were back. They dive-bombed from Abby’s stomach to her toes and shot straight to her brain, where they drove out every thought but one.

She was finally getting married.

Tomorrow.