I didn’t want Stuart to leave for the day, and I certainly didn’t want him to go to the resort and hook up with some other guy.

I did have work things to do that I’d rather him not be on board for, but I didn’t want to explain the intricacies of emptying and cleaning out sewer lines. I didn’t even like the fact that he washed dishes, though he was adamant to help. But I drew the line at this.

I figured the day apart would do us the world of good, but as I watched him walk off the yacht, I wasn’t convinced at all. I’d pretended not to notice that he’d been a little distant as we sailed back to dock. He woke up happy enough, and it was like he shut down as soon as he remembered what he was doing that day.

I could have suggested that if he really didn’t want to go to the resort, to just spend the day in Port Douglas. He could spend the day in town, I could do what needed doing, then we could head back out before sunset. I almost suggested it. But Jesus, his trip would be over in another four days, and it wasn’t like I’d see him again.

I had to get used to not having him around. I had to get used to that separation, losing that closeness I’d revelled in with him.

I’d really gotten used to having him around.

In just one week.

I’d literally spent the last six years avoiding attachment with anyone. Okay, so maybe not avoiding, but definitely enjoying the fact I spent all my time working at sea and was unable to get attached to anyone.

I didn’t want to want anyone.

I didn’t want to fall for anyone. I didn’t want a relationship. I didn’t want to be tied to anyone. I loved being free on the ocean. I’d spent most of my adulthood being tied to a job that almost killed me, wanting nothing except the next contract, the next deadline, the next adrenaline rush.

Now I had simply transferred those reasons—those excuses—into this job. I took one job after the next, sailing all over, never mooring anywhere too long. How did Stuart put it? Did I ever tie my yacht to anyone else’s?

No, I did not.

For very good reason. Because the one thing global finance taught me was, the more liabilities you had, the harder the fall.

Investing, trading, selling was for finances. Not for emotions. My heart was not a commodity.

So why did I allow myself to play this game with Stuart?

Because it was just for a short time, a holiday fling of sorts, then he’d be gone, and my life would go back to normal. It was just supposed to be some physical fun. It wasn’t supposed to be complicated.

But there was hand holding and soft kisses, gentle touches. I loved the way he smelled, how he tasted, how his body reacted to mine, how he snuggled into me to sleep.

We’d sailed past complicated somewhere around Moore Reef.

So yeah, maybe this day and night apart would do us good.

I stripped beds that smelled of us. I bundled up towels that we’d put on the bed underneath him, that we’d sunbaked on, dried each other with. I bagged up the rubbish that was filled with condom wrappers and sucked-on lemon slices; the empty Corona bottles went to recycling. There were reminders of him everywhere. He’d touched every part of this yacht, and I had to wonder if I’d ever not see the dining table and picture him laughing or if I’d ever use the navigation screens and not smile as I remembered how he tried to use it, or how bare the deck looked without him lazing on it wearing nothing but a smile and those damn white Speedos.

I wondered if I would ever be the same.

“Foster? You in there?” I heard a familiar voice call out.

I stuck my head up the stairs and found Harry standing on the jetty. He was a bright kid who loved anything to do with the water. He was studying marine biology and worked at the resort to pay his way through uni, and he’d often have questions for me whenever I docked here. What kind of fish did I see, what kind of turtles, any whales, any sharks? What were the water temperatures on the reef, did they vary, was anything out of the ordinary?

“Hey, Harry,” I said.

His grin widened. “Got any readings for me?”

I chuckled. “Of course. Got a permit for me?”

He produced a folded piece of paper. “Of course.”

I grabbed the laundry bag and walked with him back to the resort amenities room. He talked non-stop about his thesis, and the distraction was welcome. After I’d loaded everything into washers, I walked back to the yacht with him, and like always, he came aboard and went through all the data reports he wanted. It was simple really; all my onboard navigation equipment kept records along the plotted course I’d taken. He could simply download what report he wanted and save it to his Google Classroom from his phone.

It took about twenty minutes, and he was back at his desk before his lunch break was over.

I took the permit he’d given me and sailed around to the Port Douglas Marina. I pumped out the head, and tidied up the lines, refuelled, and only had to wait thirty minutes for my grocery delivery to arrive at the marina. I was back at the resort, docked, and had the laundry back on the yacht and the beds remade by the time the sun was getting low.

I’d quite often docked overnight at the resort. I was an LGBT-friendly private charter and this was a gay resort, so it was on the stopover list more often than not. It was how I’d got to know Harry and how I found myself invited to use the restaurant for dinner without being a guest at the resort. It was a nice change to let someone else cook for me, so I took them up on their offer every time.

I waited until the sun was down, showered, then wandered down toward the restaurant. The lights were on at the pool, the bar was busy, music played, and people danced.

I deliberately made myself not think of Stuart or what he was doing or was having done to him right now.

It wasn’t my business.

He wasn’t my… anything. He was my client.

Actually, while he was off my yacht for these twenty-four hours, he wasn’t even that. He wasn’t my anything.

Realising that felt like prickles all over my skin. Uncomfortable, almost painful, and really fucking unpleasant. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. By the time I sat at a table for one, I’d lost my appetite, and instead of ordering a huge steak, I settled for a seafood grill entree and even had to force that down.

This was such a bad idea.

All of it. Being with him on the yacht like we were lovers was so stupid and unprofessional. But now being here at this club and not being with him felt so much worse. It was pretty obvious though that whatever we had needed to end. When he got back on board tomorrow, if he didn’t tell me things were off limits first, then I’d tell him.

I paid for my dinner, and just as I was leaving, a guy approached me. He was a little older than me, and he looked nervous. “You here alone?” he asked.

My heart sank. I didn’t want to hurt him when he’d clearly stepped outside of his comfort zone to approach me. “I am,” I allowed as we stepped outside, “but I’m not technically staying here for any fun. I’m here on business.”

His face fell. “Oh.”

“I’m flattered though,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a kind smile. I nodded toward the music. “There’s a bit of a party happening over at the bar by the sound of it.”

“Yeah, not sure that’s my scene.” He frowned and took a step back. “Thanks anyway.”

“Hey, look,” I said. “I’ll walk over with you, get you to the bar. It’s always a little less scary when you don’t walk in alone.”

He finally smiled. “That’s mighty kind of you. I’m David.”

“Hi, David,” I said as we headed toward the bar. “My name’s Foster.”

He gave me a brief rundown of his flight from Melbourne, but all I could think while we walked was please don’t let me see Stuart because I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I did. What if he was dancing with another guy? Kissing him? Laughing?

Then I thought, What if I don’t see him?

God, I didn’t know which would be worse.

I scanned the crowd at the bar as inconspicuously as I dared and didn’t see him anywhere. Yep, it was definitely worse.

I made sure David was at the bar and ordered his first drink, and I even pointed out another guy who was there on his own. When David looked his way, he smiled, so I clapped David on the shoulder and went on my way.

I felt all tight in the chest and my stomach was in knots. This was ridiculous. I’d known him for a fucking week. One fucking week. Now I was cranky for letting myself, Foster Fucking Knight, get attached to something he couldn’t have.

I knew better.

As I neared the path to the jetty, I heard familiar laughter coming from the beach. The kind of laugh he let out after a few drinks. I almost stumbled at the sound, tripping over my own feet. But then the laughter ended, followed by, “I don’t think so,” and “Don’t. You can’t,” and it was Stuart’s voice, I had no doubt.

Was he in trouble? He sounded drunk, and before I knew it, I was running through the scrub until I all but fell out onto the beach. “Hey!”

There were three figures about twenty metres up the beach. I picked Stuart out easily, his stance, his swagger. There was enough moonlight for me to see his face, and his smile died when he saw it was me.

He wasn’t in trouble at all. One of the guys he was with had something in his hand and Stuart and the third guy were looking at it.

“Everything okay here?” I asked, realising I was interrupting something that was none of my business. Stuart didn’t need my help. He didn’t need me at all.

Stuart threw his arm out. “What the fuck is it to you?”

Yep, he was definitely drunk.

“Do you know this guy?” one of the guys asked.

“Yep. Sure do,” he replied.

I put my hand up with my heart in my throat. “Sorry. I thought there might have been some trouble.”

The taller of the other guys put his arm around the other guy in a protective way, and I wondered if they were a couple who’d maybe asked Stuart to join them. He’d obviously said yes.

I stepped back, making my retreat, but apparently Stuart wasn’t done. “Why would you care?” he yelled across the beach. “I saw you. Don’t pretend to fucking care when you don’t.”

I stopped. Saw me? “What? I said I thought you might have been in trouble.”

Stuart waved his hand back at the couple who were now watching us, and he staggered a bit, obviously very drunk. “Found a seashell. Told him he couldn’t take it. Wouldn’t call it trouble, though the fun police has arrived,” he said, making a siren sound. One of the guys chuckled.

I took another step back. “Sorry. Enjoy your night.”

I turned to leave but Stuart’s yelling stopped me. “I saw you, arsehole. Don’t pretend to be all high and mighty with me now.”

Saw me do what? I took a step toward him and yelled back, “Saw me do what? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Stuart scoffed and waved me off. Then he spun back to me and pointed at his own chest as he yelled again. “You think I don’t care? Well, guess what? I don’t. I don’t give a shit about who you fuck.”

The other two guys must have realised this was personal because they backed off and left me and Stuart on the beach alone. “Who I fuck?” I repeated, walking toward him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I saw you! You couldn’t wait to kick me off your boat so you could what? Fuck the Colgate Kid? On my bed? Or yours?”

“The Colgate Kid?” I shook my head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The pretty blond receptionist,” he spat at me. “I saw you with him. I watched you make him laugh, then take him on board.”

What? “Harry?”

“Oh, is that his name? Was he good? He was waiting for you when I booked in.” Then he jabbed his finger at my chest. “You told me you were single. You told me you had no one. That there was no one.”

“There isn’t!”

“I saw you take him on board!” He staggered back a little. “And he didn’t leave for half an hour. What were you doing? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out.”

“You’re drunk.”

His eyes gleamed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Now I was angry. “I did not lie to you. I never lied. I didn’t do anything with Harry. Jesus, Stuart. He’s a fucking kid. He’s studying marine biology. He takes recordings from my navigation system on water temps up and down the reef. Printouts, Stuart. And he lets me use the laundry room here.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You didn’t…”

“No! He’s a kid, Stuart. Jesus.”

He looked defeated, then sparked up again. “Then why did you want me off the boat so bad today?”

“Because I had to empty the sewer tank and clean the lines.”

“Oh.” Then he made a face. “Ew. That’s gross.”

I laughed at that, the fight between us over.

“You could have just told me that,” he said, pouting. “Saved me drinking all that tequila to teach you a lesson.”

I snorted. “And how’s that working out for you?”

“Okay right now, but tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

“Probably.”

“Greasy breakfast and a swim in salt water will fix me right up.” He leaned and took a step to correct himself. “Know of any private yachts I could charter?”

I barked out a laugh. “Maybe. Do you… do you want me to help you back to your room?”

He turned around, looking around the beach like he had no memory of getting there, then pointed to some cabins facing the ocean. “Number ten.”

I put my arm around him and tried to help him up onto the grassy ledge off the beach. “Just how much tequila did you drink?”

“Enough to teach you a lesson.”

I laughed again and took his hand. It was easier to pull him along than herd him. We got to the door and Stuart came to a stop behind me, goofy expression on his face, swaying on his feet. “Give me the key, Mr Alquimia.”

He cocked his head, dopey smile still in place. “Mr what?”

“Mr Tequila.”

“Oh.” Then he laughed. “You’re funny.”

“Key?”

“’S in my pocket.” He made no attempt to get it out, so I patted him down, finding the key in his back pocket. “You like my arse,” he slurred.

“Yes, I do.” I swiped the key card and opened the door, pulling him inside. I hit the light switch and turned just in time to catch Stuart before he swayed too far left. “Whoa there, tequila man.”

He fell against me. His eyes were swimming, unfocused, his breath sweet. “’M sorry ’bout before.”

“About what?”

“Thinking you and the Colgate Kid…”

I snorted. “The Colgate Kid? Really?”

Stuart gave me a grin that became a grimace that showed all his teeth. Then he waved a hand at his face and squinted. “Teeth blinded me.”

“He’s a nice kid. But he is a kid. And, just so you know, I will accept your apology, after we’ve discussed this more tomorrow.” I led him to the huge bed and pushed him onto it. He sprawled out, face down, with a laugh.

“Like it when you play rough.”

I pulled his shoes off and dropped them to the floor. “You need sleep.”

He rolled onto his side, then onto his back with what appeared to be great effort. “I didn’t do nothing with those guys. You need to know that.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Foster,” he slurred, raising one hand. “You need to know I didn’t.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Really know, Foster? Cause I don’t want nobody but you.”

“Is that so?” I asked. He was drunk, so I didn’t want to take anything he said too seriously. Or did he need the alcohol to inhibit his filter? Maybe he was the type who spoke his mind when he was drunk.

“Mmhmm,” he assented. “Stay with me tonight.”

“I can’t.”

He frowned and closed his eyes. “I didn’t do nothin’ with those guys.”

I put my hand on his leg and pulled the sheet over him. “I know. I can’t stay because of the resort’s company policy.”

He mumbled something that sounded like stupid. Then he rolled onto his side, his eyes still closed. “Can I tell you something?” he whispered.

I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to hear this or really didn’t. “Sure.”

I waited, and I waited a little longer. Then he began to snore. I scrubbed my hand over my face, looked at him sound asleep and snoring, and laughed. I put a glass of water beside his bed, turned the lights off, walked out, and locked the door behind me.

Eight o’clock the next morning, I knocked a little louder than was probably necessary, and I heard a grunted response. The door opened and Stuart stood there, looking a little worse for wear, but at least he was awake. Showered and dressed too. He looked at my face, then at the two coffees I was holding. “Oh, thank God. Please tell me one of those is mine.”

I handed him one. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up.”

“The bed kept rocking. I feel like I’m on the boat.”

I snorted. “Pretty sure tequila will do that.”

He groaned, then sipped his coffee, making a face. “Christ. Did Satan make this?”

“Yep. Ground from the beans of where hopes and dreams go to die.”

He smiled as he tried another sip. “Sounds about right. It’s bitter as fuck.”

I fought a smile. Stuart obviously didn’t do hangovers very well. “I asked for extra strong. Figured you’d need it.”

“I need food.”

“Come on then, let’s get you fed.”

We walked to the restaurant, which now had a buffet breakfast spread out. There were a few people out and about, but Stuart chose a table by the window away from everyone, though as soon as he sat down, he put his sunnies on. He shrugged at me. “I want the sun, not the glare. It’s burning my brain.”

I chuckled at him. “You’re pitiful. Get something to eat, for God’s sake.”

I opted for bacon and fruit, and he loaded his plate full of everything on offer. “This will either fix me or put me back in bed,” he mumbled. We were quiet while he shovelled in the first few mouthfuls, then once he slowed down, he sat back and sighed. “Sorry about last night.”

I sipped my coffee and waited a moment, holding his gaze. “You apologised last night.”

He pushed his sunnies to the top of his head and stared right back at me. “And you said we’d talk about it today.”

“You remember?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I am sorry. I assumed something about you that was out of line.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I just saw you take that kid on board your boat and figured… I mean, he’s a good-looking kid.”

“Despite the blinding smile?”

Stuart snorted and ate some more, and a line appeared between his eyebrows like he was thinking of something. “You found me on the beach with those guys. I met them at the bar, but I didn’t…” He shook his head.

“You told me you didn’t. I believe you.” I let out a deep breath. “Not that I have any kind of claim on you, so you could have if you wanted to.”

“I didn’t want to,” he said quickly. “I mean, I was pissed and hurt because I thought you had that kid on your boat, and…”

“And?”

“And it should have been me.” A sweet pink stained his cheeks. “I thought you’d booted me off so you could have him.”

I liked his honesty. I liked that he could say what he meant, even if it wasn’t easy. I folded my linen serviette, put it on the table, and decided to give him my truth in return. “Stuart, here’s the thing. In the six years I’ve been doing this private charter thing, I could count on one hand the number of guys I’ve been with. What we’ve been doing… well, I’ve never done anything like it before. But this last week has been—” I paused to search for the right word.

“Incredible?” he offered.

I nodded. “Incredible.”

He licked his bottom lip. “What does it mean? For us, I mean. I have three days left, and I’d really like for things to go back to how they were before I…”

“Tried to drown yourself in tequila?”

He snorted and his lips made a thin, watery line. “God, don’t remind me.”

I sighed loudly, not even trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. “Three days, huh?”

Stuart’s gaze locked with mine and he nodded, but before either of us could speak, Harry appeared from nowhere, dragged a seat over from a nearby table, and sat down. “Foster, I’m so glad you’re still here,” he said, holding some papers. Then he straightened and looked at each of us in turn. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

I smiled at this kid’s enthusiasm. “Harry, I’d like you to meet Stuart. Stuart, Harry.”

“Oh, hi.” Harry gave Stuart one of his killer-watt grins and Stuart sat back and pulled his sunglasses back down.

“Hey.”

I sipped my coffee to hide my smile, and Harry held out the papers for me to look at. “With the data I’ve collected from you, I’ve found an average of a zero point three degree increase in sea temperatures over the last two years…”

He spoke non-stop for five minutes straight about how he’d already been in touch with some government office this morning with his findings, and the turtle conservation organisation was taking his information real serious, and how, with thanks to me, his thesis was gonna be lit.

I just assumed lit was a good thing but didn’t interrupt.

Stuart was still wearing his sunglasses, though his mouth opened and closed a few times as though he had serious concerns for Harry’s ability to talk and breathe at the same time. Then Harry told us how excited he was that his university’s aquamarine department was about to release some baby turtles and we should totally go and watch. And then, another staff member caught his attention. “Hey, Judy!” he said, and with as much enthusiasm, and all in the one breath, he said goodbye to us and was telling Judy all about his findings as they walked out of the restaurant, his papers in his hand.

I watched him leave, and when I turned back to Stuart, he was pushing his sunnies back up. A stunned look on his face. “Wow.”

I laughed. “Told ya. He’s a good kid. He’ll spend his life saving the world.”

Stuart finished his coffee. “I can see now, he’s really not your type.”

I smiled at him. “Yeah, I prefer the tall, dark, and brooding type.” Then I leaned across the table. “Guys who get all bent out of shape over nothing, drink far too much tequila, and like to be fucked into the mattress.”

Stuart’s nostrils flared. “Which you didn’t do last night, I might add. I seem to recall being face down on the bed and you walking out.”

“Because you were drunk.”

He inhaled deeply. “Just as well my type is the sailing type with morals then, isn’t it?”

I fought a smile. “Yes, just as well.” Then I remembered something. “About last night, you said ‘Hey, can I tell you something?’ but passed out before you did. What did you want to tell me?”

He stared me right in the eyes and chewed on the inside of his lip. “I don’t remember.”

It made me laugh. “Liar.”

He chuckled and dropped his serviette over his plate. “I’m ready to go. You ready to go?”

“Yep. So, did the breakfast fix you? Or will you be spending the day in bed?”

He smirked. “Yes, and yes. You can sail us to somewhere remote where there’s not another soul in sight, then do to me all day long what you didn’t do last night.”

Warmth pooled low in my belly. “You check out of your room. I’ll meet you on the yacht.”