Page 68 of Love to Loathe Him

Before I can process what’s happening, he’s striding across the boats like some kind of seafaring Terminator, his movements fluid and graceful.

In one smooth motion, he scoops me up by the legs and carries me across the remaining boats, depositing me ontoRánwith a mere grunt of exertion.

I land in a heap, mortified, as the rest of the crew—the two deckhands from Accounts, Max, and even Skipper Magee—all turn to watch the spectacle. Even Max is smirking, the teenage shit.

“Thanks,” I mutter, smoothing down my hideous yellow trousers, trying to salvage some shred of dignity from this embarrassing ordeal.

Skipper Magee looks at me like I’m a useless piece of seaweed that’s washed up on his deck. Which he’s not entirely wrong about.

“Sorry for shouting, Max.” I let out a tight laugh.

He grins. “No worries.”

“Listen up!” Skipper Magee shouts around the cigarette dangling from his mouth. “I’m in command of this boat and responsible for the crew. You do as I say at all times, no questions asked. Liam is my second-in-command. He takes charge if I’m unavailable.”

“When would you be unavailable?” I ask.

“In the event I die,” he says without missing a beat.

I blink, waiting for the punchline, but he doesn’t laugh. Okay then.

“You’ll all be supporting each other, you hear?” he continues, his raspy voice booming over the sound of the boat’s engine. “I don’t tolerate any freeloaders on my boats. You'll be rotating through the jobs, and you'll be working hard—no slacking on my watch.” He jabs a gnarled finger in our direction. “You'll stay alert and keep your wits about you at all times.”

For the next twenty minutes, he barks sailing jargon at us. All with the same cigarette dangling from his mouth. If it hadn’t already gone out, I’d half expect him to put it out on someone’s forehead for not paying attention.

I swallow hard, my palms starting to sweat. I feel like I’m in the bloody Navy here. “This is pretty technical,” I say to Liam.

He looks down at me, his eyes hard and unreadable. “You’re the one who wanted to play sailor for a day. Time to see if you can hack it.”

I gulp. Bring it on, sailor boy.

CHAPTER 20

Gemma

I want off thisfucking boat right now.

The boat lurches dangerously, tilting up on one side in a way that can’t possibly be safe. I frantically try to mimic the rope-pulling motions Skipper Magee demonstrated, but who am I kidding? I have no clue if I’m doing this right or just making everything worse.

There’s been zero opportunity for team bonding or charming Sir Whitmore’s grandson so far. Unless “bonding” means me and Max collectively losing our minds in sheer panic. He’s not as bad as me, but he’s not as good as Liam needs him to be.

“Steady as she goes!” Magee bellows from the helm, his wild eyes fixed on some distant horizon point. “Keep an eye on the luff!”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” I wail to the wind, tugging helplessly on the rope.

As the boat dips even further, I can’t stifle the scream that rips from my throat. “Is this normal?” I shriek to no one in particular.

Everyone else is working hard. The other guys and Liam are doing god knows what on the other side of the boat and Max is trying to trim like me. I don’t think he knows what he’s doingeither. From what I understand, trimming is adjusting the sails by pulling on the ropes.

Magee continues barking indecipherable technical instructions that leave me more bewildered by the second. Liam’s shouts as he rushes about the rigging make it evident that winning this stupid race is his sole priority.

The winds are intensifying by the second. Magee bellows more orders from the helm, this time aiming the torrent of bizarre jargon directly at Max and me—the clueless “trimmers” tasked with adjusting . . . something?

In a desperate bid to placate the furious old sea captain, I begin yanking on every rope and line within reach, like some sort of deranged puppeteer.

I catch Liam watching me intently, his brows furrowed into a severe line. He mutters a string of curses and strides over.

But it’s not out of concern for my wellbeing—oh no. The downright ferocious look on his face makes it clear this is all about making sure we don’t lose this stupid race.