Page 15

CHAPTER 15

While Trixie’s Away, the Ship Will Play—The Elodie Edition

A hoy, amorous adventurers! Our honeymooners are still reviewing security footage (wink, wink), so let’s tackle another burning question from our mailbag.

Dear Elodie,

I noticed the ship has a couples cooking class. My husband thinks it sounds boring, but I’d love to spice things up in the kitchen. Is it worth it?

Culinary Curious

Oh, my simmering sweetie,

There is nothing boring about playing with food. Trust me, a couple’s cooking class is just foreplay with better props. Think about it—all that kneading, stirring, whisking... It’s like Fifty Shades of Gourmet.

The best part? The kitchen’s marble counters are just the right height for… Let’s just say quality control testing. And don’t get me started on what you can do with that chocolate fountain after hours. Although I do recommend bringing your own apron. Those ship-issued suits of armor can be a bit... restrictive .

Heating things up,

XOXO Elodie

Trixie

The honeymoon suite wraps us in warmth, with its soft golden lighting and plush carpet beneath our feet. Music filters through the speakers—something jazzy and slow that makes my pulse skip in time with the beat.

Ransom’s arms slide around my waist as we sway together in the middle of the room. I must look absolutely ridiculous with this overdone makeup still on my face, but the way he’s looking at me makes me forget everything else—my new rainbow features included.

“You know”—he murmurs as his thumb traces circles on the small of my back—“I’m developing quite an affinity for this colorful side of you.”

A dark laugh rumbles through me as I tighten my arms around him. “Ransom, I’m a walking spectacle, and don’t you dare deny it.”

“Have it your way.” He pauses to brush the hair from my eyes. “But I have a sudden craving for a walking spectacle.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he offers up that devastating half-smile, making my knees weak. “Particularly beautiful blonde ones with the softest lips I’ve ever kissed.”

“Real smooth, Baxter,” I say, leaning into his kiss and running my fingers through his thick, glossy hair. His mouth is warm and insistent against mine, and I lose myself in the sensation until a thought hits me and I crash back to reality. “Oh! I just remembered something. I need to run down to the boutique. Elodie hijacked my entire wardrobe and I’m relegated to looking like a formal night castoff until we hit England.”

“I thought the closet looked as if a runway show was taking place in it.” Ransom frowns over at the closet. “Elodie does seem to have a talent for wardrobe redistribution.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “Although I must say, I’m rather fond of what you’re wearing now.” He gives my furry white stole a quick rub. “And that blue dress brings out the beautiful in your eyes.” He lands a kiss to each of my eyelids as if to drive the point home.

“This old clown costume?” I tease. “It’s designer and costs more than this stateroom. Elodie left all of the price tags on. You have great taste, Mr. Baxter.”

“Only in women,” he shoots back with a wink. “So are we doing a quick trip to the Queen’s Mall?”

“Are you in?” I wince as I ask and he nods without hesitation. “Oh, thank you. I promise, we’ll be in and out in ten minutes, tops, and then we’ll come right back here and continue where we left off,” I say, already heading toward the door, and I’m about to swing it open, but the handle doesn’t budge. I try again, this time putting more muscle into it, but nothing happens. “Uh, Ransom? Either this cabin is having an existential crisis or we’re locked in.”

“What’s going on?” He steps over after retrieving his phone from the dresser. “Having a wrestling match with the door?”

“And losing spectacularly.” I jiggle the handle again as if that might change things. “Something isn’t right. It’s almost as if it’s locked from the outside.”

He gives it a try, but the result is the same.

“That’s odd.” He takes a minute to glare at the door as if that might convince it to open. Shockingly, it doesn’t.

“Should we call engineering?” I suggest, but Ransom is already shaking his head and glaring at his phone with that look in his eye that usually means trouble.

The engineering department here on the ship is usually the one that the staff calls if anything needs to be fixed, adjusted, or set free to live out their days flying in the sky. That last one involved a seagull and Nettie. And there were several activists looking to sue the kaftan right off of a certain gray-headed granny. There was some major cursing and some minor bloodshed involved. Trust me, you don’t want any more details. Just know that both Nettie and the seagull came out the victors.

“I don’t think we need to call engineering.” Ransom’s fingers fly over the screen. “I say we escalate the issue all the way to the captain. I’m going to ask him if he’s the one responsible for this.” And he does just that before hitting send.

The reply comes almost instantly.

Wes: A hostage situation? Such dramatic language. Loosen up and enjoy your honeymoon, kids. Barring a ship-wide emergency, I’ll let the two of you out in the morning. You deserve the alone time. No more sleuthing for either of you. I’m officially giving you the night off.

I suck in a quick breath as I read it. “He didn’t!” I examine the screen once again. “He absolutely did.”

“Oh, he did.” Ransom wags his phone my way. “And it’s perfectly legal. Certain crew members have override privileges when they suspect passengers need some—enforced rest.”

“So we’ve essentially been placed on a medical quarantine,” I muse, laughing despite myself.

I know for a fact that the staff can lock down staterooms if someone has been loading up on cold medicine in the gift shop or showing other concerning symptoms. I just never thought it would happen to me.

“Sure, it’s technically legal.” I run my finger softly over Ransom’s lips. “Although I strongly suspect this particular lockdown lacks proper medical authorization.”

“That’s for sure,” he muses. “Typically, room service is still available in these situations,” he points out while backing me slowly against the wall as his arms lock around me tight. “And housekeeping, should we need it. But otherwise...” His lips brush my ear, sending shivers down my spine, and I soak in each and every one. “We’re stuck here, all night long with no way out.”

“Whatever shall we do?” I say as I tweak his ribs and his gaze presses into mine, unwavering.

His lips curve with a wicked grin because Ransom Baxter knows exactly what to do in a situation like this. “You did mention something about a shower earlier.”

“That I did,” I say as his mouth finds mine again, and this time there’s nothing gentle about it. This kiss is all heat and promise, making my toes curl.

Ransom and I kiss our way into the bathroom of the honeymoon suite, batting around blindly, far too consumed with passionate kisses to care that we’re knocking over cosmetics and toiletries alike.

The bathroom in the honeymoon suite really is a marvel of luxury, easily twice the size of a standard cabin’s facilities. Gleaming white marble stretches from floor to ceiling, with a rainfall shower big enough for a small party (not that I’m planning on inviting any guests). Gold fixtures catch the light, and a bench seat built into the shower wall practically begs to be utilized in some shape or form. The whole space screams decadence—and, well, in this case, shower for two.

Ransom reaches in to turn on the water and steam begins to curl through the room as if it could hardly wait to get here.

His jacket hits the floor, followed by his tie. “Now, where were we?”

I take off my stole and do my best to fling it onto the chair next to the closet. I’m not a monster.

I waste no time unzipping my gown and letting it drop to the floor. I’m about to toss it to the chair as well when I spot a spray of light pink stars next to the ceiling, and within seconds a full-fledged ghost materializes, a redheaded menace sporting a victory roll and a bright red toothy smile to boot.

I gasp at the sight of her as Ransom does his best to ravish me.

Sassy gives an impish wave before motioning for me to get back to work. Not that it’s work doing a single sinful thing with the handsome stud before me.

However, I’m not entirely sure I can perform my best knowing that I have a live studio audience.

Ransom’s lips find that spot just below my ear that makes coherent thoughts impossible, and I groan for more than one reason as I tilt my head toward our nosey disembodied neighbor.

I shoot her a look that says, Really, Sassy? Now?

And honestly, I have a feeling the here and now is exactly what she’s looking forward to most on this trip back to the planet.

Can’t say I blame her. The here and now with Ransom is my favorite part, too. Or at least it would be if I knew I wasn’t going to get scored on my performance.

Ransom pulls back and inspects me for a moment. “Is something wrong?” he murmurs against my cheek as his hands land possessively on my hips.

A part of me is tempted to tell him that it’s just our new resident ghost deciding this is the perfect time for a show, but I don’t dare say a word. It’s bad enough Sassy is ruining the honeymoon for me. The last thing I want is to ruin it for Ransom, too.

“Nothing is wrong,” I say, pulling him close. “In fact, everything is right.” Mostly.

I shoot the sassy nosey specter a dirty look because of it.

Ransom pulls back and gives a slight frown. “You did say something earlier about being quick.”

“That was about shopping,” I say as his mouth does wicked things to my neck. “This is entirely different. This deserves to be savored.”

Ransom’s mouth claims mine again as we step under the hot water and it feels like heaven.

Maybe being locked in a luxury cabin with Handsome Ransom isn’t such a terrible fate after all.

Although I am definitely going to have words with Wes about his creative interpretation of crew privileges. Eventually. Much, much later.

Meanwhile, Sassy, our supernatural voyeur, simply grins and settles in for the show, fanning herself with entirely too much enthusiasm.

At least someone is having the time of their afterlife.

And if she wasn’t dead, I might have considered homicide myself.