Chapter 2

Suddenly Single—What a Trip!

Hey, Trixie! I'm in quite the predicament and could use some of your sage advice. My name is Shelby, and I'm currently on a cruise ship, supposedly celebrating my newfound freedom after a rather messy divorce. Imagine my shock when I discovered that my ex-husband is on the very same ship with his friends also celebrating his divorce—yes, from me.

It feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke. Everywhere I turn, I'm reminded of what I came here to forget. I want to enjoy this trip with my friends without letting this unexpected encounter ruin my mood or my vacation. What should I do to navigate this awkward situation and reclaim all the fun I was planning on having?

Stuck with stupid,

Shelby

Dear Stuck,

What a twist your cruise has taken! While it might feel like you're trapped in a bad rom-com, remember this—your happiness and peace of mind come first. Here's the game plan—embrace this as an opportunity for personal growth and empowerment. You're on this cruise to celebrate your new beginning, so focus on that. Surround yourself with friends and engage in activities you love.

And don't forget to eat lots of yummy treats. Don't let this spoil your appetite or your cruise!

Hoping for smooth sailing,

XOXO Trixie

"What exactly is a LARPer?"Bess asks as the guests dressed as pirates practically storm the ship from the gangway. And judging by the I'm-going-to-loot-every-inch-of-this-place look in their eyes, I wouldn't be surprised if they commandeered the ship and took us all on a high seas adventure to hunt for buried treasure.

"It's an acronym," Wes, aka Captain Crawford, tells Bess as throngs of people dressed to impress as pirates surround us, buzzing with excitement and, well, perhaps a touch too much merriment. "It stands for Live Action Role Play—people who dress in costume and get together for the fun of it. They're a part of a club called the Jolly Roger Pirate Crew. They'll be joining us as we sail the Caribbean blue—St. Lucia, Barbados, along with two private islands that the Royal Lineage Cruise Lines owns."

"Ooh, I can't wait for every last minute of it," I say, wiggling my shoulders at him.

Wes is tall, has a swath of thick dark hair, and eyes that rival every blade of grass on the planet for their verdant glory. He's wearing his white captain's regalia that has enough brass pins and buttons on it to outfit a marching band, and don't think for a moment that all the women boarding the ship haven't noticed.

The screams and howls only seem to escalate as more and more passengers decked out in various levels of costume flood the Emerald Queen. The men have donned either red and white striped shirts or plain white dress shirts that are loose and billowy, and every last one of them has on rags for pants.

The women are dressed a bit more richly, with long flowing dresses or shirts that are tied off above their navels, along with glittering skirts. Lots of jewels abound as well on both the women and the men, with lone gold hoop earrings, lots of pearl necklaces, and bangles adorning their arms that run all the way to their elbows.

It's clear the treasure chest has been pillaged well for this trip.

"LARP is an acronym, huh?" Nettie asks while looking over at Bess. "I thought it stood for Loose and Reckless People." She straightens for a moment. "Come to think of it, those are my kind of people!"

The entire lot of us chuckles because when it comes to Nettie it happens to be true.

Both Bess and Nettie are a couple of fun-loving grannies in their eighties. Bess is a redheaded sweetheart who once taught home ec to teenagers. And Nettie is a gray-headed hurricane who once sold dicey cigarettes to hippies.

I met them last year when I boarded this skyscraper of a sailing vessel.

Long story short, I found my husband with an entire gaggle of nude women just before our twenty-fifth-anniversary cruise. So I kicked the cheater to the curb, took the cruise without him, and haven't left the ship yet.

Luckily, Captain Crawford hired me as the resident art teacher. And since I didn't care to sleep six people deep in a cabin well below sea level, I pay for my own cabin each time the ship sails.

It was Bess and Nettie who talked me into living on the ship, only because they happen to live here, too. And let's just say we've bonded over lava cake and homicides.

Yes, homicides.

But I push all homicidal thoughts out of my mind for now as a drop-dead gorgeous, tall, broad-chested god with jet-black hair and eyes as blue as the deepest sea comes my way.

It's the chief of vessel security, and he just so happens to be the newly-minted chief of my heart, my boyfriend. And you can bet every donut rolling around on the lido deck that I more than appreciate how youthful the word boyfriend sounds.

Ransom Courtland Baxter looks downright lethal in a fitted Italian suit, the slight bulge from his weapon curving from underneath his jacket as he makes his way over.

Ransom is a lean, mean looker who used to be the ship's resident playboy. That is, until he met me. His perennial stone-cold expression drives the women wild, and even though his smiles are hard-won, he doles them out on occasion—usually in my direction.

"Hello, gorgeous," he says as his lips curve in the right direction. "Am I ever glad to see you."

"I was just thinking the very same thing," I say as he wraps his arms around me and offers up a dreamy kiss.

"Get a room," someone snarks from behind him and I crane my neck to see a not-so-perky brunette frowning at the two of us—Tinsley Thornton, aka the ever present thorn in my side—my boss.

Tinsley is actually the ship's cruise director. And believe me, the irony that the fate of the passengers' good time is in her hands isn't lost on me. Tinsley is about as fun as falling into a bubbling volcano.

"I'm with Tinsley," Nettie says without missing a beat. "It's about time the two of you got a room."

I make a face, because as much as I hate to admit it, they're probably right. Ransom and I have been pretty serious for a while now, but we've yet to take a leap into the deep end of the bedroom.

I keep saying all in good time, but a part of me is wondering if we're running out of time. Ransom is not only heart-stoppingly handsome but, well, he is a man who has needs. And let's be honest, my needs have been pretty vocal about the two of us getting a room, too.

But first, there's that little quirk of mine I promised myself that I'd fill him in on.

I bat my lashes up at him.

In fact, I told Ransom just yesterday that I would finally share one of my deepest, darkest secrets with him.

He's suspected that something has been amiss for a while now and he's been right.

My name is Trixie Troublefield. I stand at five feet five inches, have more gray than blonde locks in my shoulder-length hair, I'm about to crest the half-a-century mark, and after a bonk on the noggin with a bottle of questionable vodka, I've garnered the uncanny ability to see the dead—as in ghosts.

Only Bess, Nettie, and the captain know about my curious little quirk, and it's time that Ransom is let into our little unholy huddle. And even though Bess and Nettie took the news in stride—and even Wes was okay with it once he got over the trauma of having a poltergeist stowaway or two—I'm not sure how Ransom will take the news, or how he'll perceive me after the fact.

Ransom is logical. He's firmly grounded in reality. And he may not like to know there's an entity around that he can't pump with bullets should the mood strike him.

"Speaking of rooms…" Ransom lifts a brow. "My suite is being renovated, so I picked up a cabin on deck fourteen."

"Hey." A laugh bubbles from me. "That's the deck Bess, Nettie, and I are on." Each of the three of us has our own cabin with a balcony. Just because we're inseparable on the ship doesn't mean we want to share a bathroom with one another.

"That may have played into my decision." A laugh rumbles in his chest, but there's not even a hint of a smile as he comes in for a quick kiss.

"All right, cool it," Tinsley says, tugging down her navy skirt. Her white dress shirt glows against her bronzed skin and the brass buttons bring out the devil in her eyes. Come to think of it, everything she wears brings out her father in her eyes. Kidding, mostly. "Here comes the leader of the pirate pack."

We look at the open maw of the gangway just as a man clad in dark shredded clothes, a dark tri-cornered pirate hat with gold trim, and a gray beard that reaches his chest belts out a laugh.

"Arrr," he shouts at the sight of us and every last buccaneer in the vicinity echoes the sentiment. "The Emerald Queen has just been seized by the Jolly Roger Pirates!"