Page 4 of No One Aboard

“Where’s Rylan and Dad?” The ice cubes made music in her daiquiri glass.

“Off on a dive. Rylan still hasn’t passed all of his rescue skills. They’ll be back soon, I’m sure.” Lila reached a long arm over and toasted her drink with Tia’s. “But enough about them. To Tia Cameron! The newest—and finest—graduate of St. Beatrice—”

“Bernadette’s.”

“St. Bernadette’s! Now, even if you weren’t educated a bit, you at leastlooklike you were on paper.” Lila drained her glass.

Tia took a sip. Even though she was only two hours from her redbrick, woodsy boarding school, not nearly far enough, the sunlight, the sea, and the strawberry sweetener were enough to make her finally relax. St. Bernadette’s School for Girls was behind her now. For good.

Lila wrinkled her nose and touched Tia’s hair. “Did you dye the ends yourself?”

“Yup.” The sink in her dorm room had still been stained red when Tia left this morning.

“Let me pay for a salon next time, hm?” Lila tossed her own corn silk hair over one shoulder.

Tia pictured for the millionth time what her life might have been like if she looked more like her mother. Lila Cameron was a classic beauty—soft hair and softer skin with a delicate frame that, like her maiden name, Lila Logan, made it seemlike she was ready to soar. Tia hadn’t inherited any of it. She was shorter and curvier with coarse dark hair that had taken half a dozen bleach attempts to dye the split ends red.

“My, if it isn’t the dashing and daring Cameron women!”

Tia’s father materialized at the swim ladder, decked out in full scuba diving apparel: skintight wet suit, half-inflated buoyancy control device, and bright orange fins under one arm that evoked some awkward avian creature.

Tia downed the rest of her daiquiri.

Captain Francis Ryan Cameron. A rags-to-riches yachting CEO and owner ofThe Old Eileen.

Call sign: Midas.

Meaning: The storied king whose mere touch turned everything into gold. Or, the Midas cichlid fish, known to be omnivorous, territorial, andcolor-changing.

Lila matched her husband’s pearly grin as she leaned back on her elbows. “Ah, and the gallant, gawky Cameron men.”

“Glad to see you, Tia. How was the drive?” Francis tossed his flippers aside and worked to peel off his wetsuit.

“Fine,” Tia said, her focus behind her father where any moment she hoped Rylan would appear.

And he did, hauling himself over the edge effortlessly, black hair dripping beads down his face. He shed his wet suit like a selkie’s coat and locked in on her with owly eyes.

Francis Rylan Cameron. Son, brother.

Call sign: Minnow.

Meaning: Small, bashful, freshwater fish. Harmless and quick. But fun fact—they have teeth in the back of their throat.

Tia stood. Rylan crossed the deck, leaned down, and crushed her in his arms. When he pulled back, his smile was electric, a current that ran from him to her and made her smile in return.

But something was different. He’d gotten tall. There was a nick on his chin where he must have cut himself shaving.Since when does Rylan shave?And was he even thinner than last summer?

Rylan drew her in again and murmured into her hair, “Missed you.”

He was definitely thinner.

“How was your dive?” she asked.

Francis answered for him. “He passed some of the rescue skills. Third time’s the charm, eh, Tia?”

“Sure.”

Francis strode across the deck once he was free from his equipment and planted a scratchy, stubbly kiss on his daughter’s head. He did the same with his wife’s cheek, and she swatted him away. “Shave. Now.”