Page 47 of The Admiral's Daughter

This date is held together by favours, bribes, and sheer desperation.

Leaning over, I pass Cleo a bottle of beer. Ideally, I would have champagne on ice, but lager is all I had available so…

“Cheers!” I beam. Cleo clinks her bottle against mine and takes a swig.

The mess door opens and Cheddar steps through, holding a tray. She’s our server for this evening due to the lucrative deal she struck with me, which will have me supplying her with Wotsits for the next twenty years.

“Evening,” she says, a little out of breath. “Do you know how hard it is to sneak a tray of food from the galley to the mess? Really hard! God, I had to hide like three times.”

I glare at her because she’s completely ruining the mood. I spent hours planning this. I coordinated with half the ship. I was finally getting Cleo to relax, finally building some intimacy, and Cheddar just waltzed in like she’s on a bloody cooking show. I love her, but right now, I could throttle her.

Shit! I forgot to put some music on.

My stare must do the trick because Cheddar shuts her trap and puts the tray on the table.

“I’ll be back later with dessert. Bon Apetit.”

We watch her leave, and silence descends for a few awkward seconds.

“Did Cheddar just say Bon A-pet-tit?” Cleo snorts.

I scratch my temple nervously, because yes, my best friend did just butcher the French language to make a stupid joke…in the middle of my first date with the admiral’s daughter.

“What can I say…she’s…Cheddar. No one like her in the world.”

Cleo is still chuckling as I pull off the plate covers and reveal our meal for the evening.

“Voila,” I declare in a terrible accent. “Only the finest for you, Cleo. Toad-in-the-hole with creamy mash and gravy.”

Okay, so when I said Tadpole was the finest chef in the King’s Navy, I may have exaggerated just a little. He is a great chef though, and would’ve absolutely proved that if he had the ingredients in the galley to make us something fancy. However, as he was, and is, risking a bollocking for helping me sneak food out of the dining room, I can’t complain that he served us the same dinner as the other sailors.

Unfortunately, the favour owed to me by one of the officers’ chefs couldn’t be called in, so I went begging in the crew’s kitchen.

“Wow, this is a generous portion.”

My heart freezes as I watch her assess the plate. She’s smiling, but I don’t know her well enough to discern her taste in food. What if she’s a vegetarian? What if she hates gravy? What if she thinks toad-in-the-hole is too working-class, too common, too…not fancy enough? I should’ve asked. I should’ve planned better. I should’ve—

But then again, I wanted tonight to be a surprise for her.

Christ, this dating stuff is hard. The only thing I ever had to worry about as pre-dating River was if I could get out of the woman’s bed without waking her up, and if I had enough cash left for a breakfast bap before getting back to the ship.

“It’s not exactly—”

“It’s perfect, River. I love toad-in-the-hole. I can’t remember the last time I had it.”

“Oh, um good. That’s good then!”

Before picking up her cutlery, Cleo reaches over and lays her hand on mine, which is gripping my fork like there’s no tomorrow. “River, please relax. This is supposed to be fun, not anxiety-inducing.”

Oh, if she only knew. I’ve had anxiety since the second I woke up this morning. Trying to coordinate a mess full of sailors while working at the other end of the ship,whileavoiding Benson and Grey, has been nothing short of a terrifying miracle, considering I seem to have pulled it off.

“Sorry. I guess I’m a little nervous.”

“We’re just eating together. No pressure.”

“Ha!” I bark involuntarily. Cleo’s eyebrows rise slowly. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just, for me, there is a ton of pressure.”

“Why?”