Page 67 of Love to Loathe Him

“It’s just a friendly race for charity, remember? Not the Oxford-Cambridge Boat Race,” I say, name-dropping the one race I know.

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Is that a yes?” I ask, holding my breath.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really, no,” I say, my voice sweet. “And if things go completely sideways out there, you can always just toss me overboard instead?”

He stares at me for a long, tense moment. “Don’t tempt me, Gemma.”

Shit. He’s not kidding. He looks like he’s about two seconds away from hoisting me over his shoulder and dunking me into the sea.

Eyes bouncing to the hefty crate Liam is cradling like it weighs nothing, I make a feeble attempt to be useful. “Is there anything I should be doing to help? I could take one of those to the boats?”

He glances down at me, then at the bottles that must weigh a good thirty pounds each, trying not to smirk. “I think I’ve got it covered, thanks.”

I huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “Okay, maybe not.” Am I going to be dead weight on this whole trip?

“Just go get changed,” he grumbles, already turning away. “And tell the kid to hurry up. We haven’t got all bloody day to be pissing about.”

“Aye aye, captain,” I mutter under my breath.

Alarm flashes through my head. My hips do not suit big yellow trousers.

Fifteen minutes later, I emerge from the changing rooms looking like Big Bird’s cousin in my bright yellow trousers.

I hoist my overnight bag onto my shoulder and grab Max, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. “You ready?”

He nods eagerly, following after me to the boats.

I spot Liam’s boat, a sleek beauty calledRán. I can’t help but wonder if it’s named after an actual woman, but that would require Liam to have emotions beyond “angry” and “absolutely fuming.”

“So, uh . . . how exactly do we get onto our boats?” I frown, squinting at the bobbing vessels and trying to spot a ramp or gangway that doesn’t require acrobatic skills.

“We walk across the other boats,” Max says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

My eyes bug out of my head. “Is that . . . safe? Some of those gaps look wide.”

He shrugs, already stepping onto the first boat. “I guess so.”

I watch as Max hops from boat to boat, navigating the gaps with ease.

Taking a deep breath, I step onto the neighboring boat, my legs only slightly wobbly as I find my footing on the rocking deck. So far, so good.

The next boat step feels more precarious, but still doable. Maybe this won’t be sobad after—

Famous last words.

Just as I’m starting to feel a flicker of confidence, some asshole jumps onto one of the boats I’m straddling, making the vessel lurch beneath my feet. I let out a high-pitched yelp, windmilling my arms as I struggle to regain my balance. My overnight bag slips off my shoulder, threatening to take a swim.

This is it. This is how I die. My lady bits torn apart as I straddle two boats like some kind of demented sea cowgirl. Right in front of my colleagues.

“You okay, Gemma?” Max calls back, even though I’m clearly as far from okay as humanly possible. He turns to come back to me, rocking the boat even more.

“Don’t you dare come near me!” I yell, flapping my arms. I’m going in, and I’m causing a major scene in the process.

Liam glances up from his boat, about six vessels away, his brow furrowed.