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Chapter Nineteen

MURPH

I can barely wait one more minute to climb onto that rickety old houseboat in the harbour… and the gorgeous man on it. But first, I’m being a gentleman—and a good boyfriend candidate.

I’m leaning against Sunrise Island’s bar while Doug cooks two breakfasts to go. Berty is holding up both ends of the conversation as usual, ignoring his ringing phone in favour of telling me all about the new ferry.

There are so many perks to being the walking—but not talking—definition of strong and silent . All I have to do is grunt now and then, which sure beats getting interrogated about why I asked for an extra breakfast to go.

“You wanna get that, Murph?”

Wait. It’s my phone ringing, not his.

“Shit. Yeah, I probably do,” I mumble, stepping outside as Berty laughs and waves me off.

It’s a 604 number—which doesn’t help, because it covers the whole southwest part of BC. “Murph here.”

“Oh, you’re there. Thank god. I know it’s early, I hope I’m not bothering you.”

I grunt. But customer service doesn’t go away just because I have a hot breakfast date, so I draw a breath. “It was a good moment. What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking to hire your barge on Saturday.” Before I can tell him that I’m booked for the whole month, he hurries on. “I saw your website calendar, and that was the one day that isn’t red.”

I frown. “That should’ve been blocked out.” Felix insists this will make things easier, but I still think it’s easier to update my voicemail message every week with our availability.

“Right. It was grey. I couldn’t click it.”

“Oh. So it was blocked out. That’s my day off,” I tell him flatly. I wouldn’t be half as grumpy about it, except everyone ought to know that this weekend is Bathtub Race day, and the Nanaimo harbour will be jam-packed. Anyone with any kind of boat crowds into the harbour to watch.

“The race, right?”

Phew. I wasn’t going to try explaining that at such an hour. “Yep,” I grunt.

“Yeah, so I need to be on the water, but I can’t rent a damn thing,” says the guy with a frustrated sigh. “I know someone with a little yacht, but he said it won’t even get into the harbour.”

Little yacht? I laugh shortly. “Yeah, no. The good mooring is already gone, buddy. You’ll have to watch from the shore. It’s a better view of the finish line anyway.”

“Yeah, but I’m not just—I mean, I need to—I mean, okay, listen. How much would it take? I’m not even asking you to haul anything. I just need a boat.”

I’m not hosting someone else’s watch party instead of my own. Especially now that I finally have a new not-quite-boyfriend-yet to introduce to all of my brothers.

“Yeah. It’s a family day for me,” I tell him firmly. “Nothing comes above family.”

“Even love?” he wheedles.

Wait, what? It feels like bad karma to cut him off and hang up, and besides… I’m curious. I grunt, inviting him to go on.

“I’m proposing. My intended will be on the water, so… I can’t really do it from land, you know? I need to sweep him off his feet. And I can’t just buy a kayak. Prince Charming wouldn’t kayak. I need a mighty steed.”

Okay, now he has my attention. Besides the bald-faced attempt to manipulate me by complimenting my barge, that is. “Is he racing? Or in a follow boat?”

The guy laughs. “I can’t tell you that. But I can tell you it’s going to be an epic love story.”

I grunt. Obviously I’ll keep my mouth shut about it, but I’m curious. If this guy isn’t straight, and he’s local enough to get involved in the race… I probably know who it is.

“Look, I’ll give you directions on the day. Do you have a specs sheet?”

“A what now?”

“The event planner wants to know about allowable decorations. Height, especially?—”

The door opens, and I turn around. Doug’s standing there with a little paper takeout bag and two cups of coffee. I grab everything in one hand with a nod of thanks, mouthing an apology, but he just waves me off.

Jeez. This guy had better wrap up the pitch soon, because as soon as I get home, I’m one short speedboat trip away from being… shall we say, uninterruptible.

“—and we’ll need to know how many musicians we can bring. And whether they have to wear lifejackets. The violinists are being difficult, I’m told.”

Finally, he stops for breath, and I grunt. “Violinists. On a barge.” I juggle my phone, sticking it between my shoulder and ear so I can separate out one coffee cup. Then I frown, trying to work out how to drink it without dropping my phone.

“I know, I know,” he groans. “I was going to hire somewhere like, I don’t know, the Vancouver Art Gallery.”

Jesus. That’s the least humble brag I’ve ever heard.

Have they hired Celine Dion to sing while the bathtubs sink?

“But I think that’s a little over-the-top for him. So then I thought up…” he pauses for dramatic effect.

That just makes me think about Eden, and I smile.

“ The love barge ,” the guy dramatically finishes. And I can’t help my snort, because it’s even less impressive than when Eden does it.

“Do you know if anyone’s ever done this before? I Googled it and I couldn’t find anything. It would be great to be the world’s first love barge proposal.”

Okay, the guy seems like a bit of a dick, but he’s obviously putting himself under some crazy pressure to make this perfect—at the last minute, on the busiest day of the year in the harbour.

But it might just be the pressure he’s clearly putting himself under. Everyone’s stressed out when they need to move stuff across a harbour—or, apparently, rent a love barge.

“The only thing missing is a boat. I really need your help, man. Can I count on you? You’d be saving my life, I swear.”

Shit. I’m actually thinking it through now.

Eden did suggest tying our boats together. What if… what if I joined them after the job is done? I know that despite their teasing, my brothers will make him feel welcome. And Eden is good with people… and he’s met half of them, at least…

“It would be such a big deal. Helping a same-sex couple get engaged, in front of everyone. The whole city,” the guy enthuses. “Making a fairytale dream come true.”

My brothers would be on board with that. I bet Eden would, too.

“There’s only one catch?—”

“Apart from it being Saturday,” I interject.

“Yeah. There’s just one catch,” he says like I didn’t say anything, and I roll my eyes. “I need to send over a nondisclosure agreement from my lawyer. Just to make sure the details stay completely secret. You know what the press is like.”

I actually do, but he’d never know that. I’m not about to tell him one of my best friends was a pretty famous hockey player, right up until medical retirement a couple years ago.

“Sure. I can keep secrets.”

That does mean not telling everyone why I’m suddenly taking a job on bathtub race day… but when they all watch it unfold, they’ll understand. I can just see the look on Eden’s face now.

He’s so the type who loves love. And call me a sucker… but I guess I am, too.

The guy finally makes the hard sales pitch. “Can you help me out?” he asks and pauses, waiting for me to fill the silence.

Fuck. It’s working.

“I never do this,” I finally tell him slowly. “But for true love? I might make an exception.”

“Oh my god!” he exclaims. You’re a lifesaver! Oh, man. Just name your rate.”

The guy’s obviously loaded, so I could ask for double or triple the usual day hire rate. But I’m not going to exploit true love. Felix has told me all about how many places quietly inflate their prices at the first sniff of a wedding.

Before I can say a word, he carries on. “Ten times your rate? Paid upfront?” he asks, like he expects me to negotiate.

“I, uh—” I blink into space, shaking my head to clear my ears. “Huh?”

“Ten times, plus I’ll throw in a case of Cristal, eh? It’s the best champagne you’ve ever had, I tell you, man. You can toast us.”

I wasn’t trying to hold out for more, but I guess I found another way that being strong and silent can be a perk. And we’re approaching my house now, so I’m running out of time to make a decision.

At ten times my rate, I could fix up Eden’s boat for the winter, even if he insists on living aboard.

Fuck. I think I just made up my mind.

“Hey. What’s your name?” I ask. “Or do I need to sign that NDA first?”

“George,” he says quickly. “Is that a yes? We’ve got a deal?”

He sounds too hopeful to change my mind now. “Okay, George,” I sigh. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Now I just have to figure out how to break the news to everyone… but that can wait until after breakfast. It’s time to get this guy off the phone, and get my ass on a boat.

Priorities, right?