The next day was an improvement as far as reining in my heat was concerned. That one thing still wasn’t quite enough for it to be better, though. Adrian had been a massive jerk, and that admittedly hurt. Even if he’d been right about some of the things he’d said. Even if I hadn’t exactly expected a sweeping romance, I’d at least wanted us to part on somewhat amiable terms. At the very least, I hadn’t expected to be insulted straight after having sex.

Even though Sherri told me I could have more time off if I wanted it, I declined. Instead, I started my shift with renewed enthusiasm, eager to prove myself for missing the day before. It was sunny with a light breeze blowing off the gulf waters, perfect weather for strolling about on the upper decks and entertaining children. “And now,” I said conspiratorially, “We gotta find the passenger on this ship that’s been stealin’ all our gold!”

The children laughed and clapped as we sauntered around the upper deck searching for the culprit. We had a makeshift jail cell set up for this purpose; it was constructed of cardboard and faux bamboo. It was obviously completely useless and impractical, but after finding our villainous passenger, we’d often put them in there. This was usually fun, or at least, the children got a kick out of it. There were about twenty of them today, including Angelica.

Angelica was a very solemn girl. She only offered small half-smiles throughout the day. I wondered if it was because her mother died, or if she’d always been a quiet kid. Either way, I was determined to make sure she enjoyed herself, especially since Adrian, along with a few other parents, kept trailing along behind us. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

It was only so often I had opportunities to get back at people.

“See,” I said. “One o’ the great things ‘bout being a pirate is ye can smell gold. So I’m just gonna go ‘round, and smell all yer parents ‘til I find it!”

A round of claps and giggles. I approached the parents. The first one was a very good sport. She drew an exaggerated gasp and fanned herself. “Why, surely, it isn’t me,” she said.

“Nope!” I declared, moving on.

Then, there was Adrian with his scowl and crossed arms. “You’d better not,” he hissed.

He said that, but I knew he’d play along. Parents always did. “Or what? C’mon. It’s for the kids,” I whispered.

He rolled his eyes.

“I found ‘im!” I declared. “It’s him! What shall we do with this lily-livered schwab for stealin’ all our hard-earned gold?”

Adrian kept shooting me “die” looks which I gleefully pretended not to notice. I wasn’t usually a petty man, but this gave me a great amount of personal satisfaction. “Put ‘im in jail!” the kids shouted.

I took his arm and pulled him over to our makeshift jail. Although he glared, he let me lock him inside with a very fake and comically large padlock. “So how long do ye lot think we oughta leave ‘im in there?”

There was a cacophony of suggestions ranging from three minutes to three-hundred years, and I pretended to consider them all with the utmost care. “But we don’t wannabe too mean,” I finally announced. “And ‘e ain’t done nothin’ like this before. What do ye all think ‘bout lettin’ ‘im go, but only if ‘e returns our stolen gold? That seems fair. Give ‘im a second chance.”

The kids seemed split on this suggestion, Angelica, in particular, was insistent that we leave her beloved father in prison until the end of time. Wow, harsh. “No, no, I think we’ll forgive ‘im,” I said, “As long as ‘e returns our gold.”

I turned back to Adrian and arched an eyebrow. He looked furious. “So I’ll be havin’ our gold back now,” I said.

“Take it,” he growled.

“Come on. You could at least act the part,” I whispered.

Adrian rolled his eyes, clearly unwilling to oblige me. With a shrug, I pulled a fake gold piece from inside my coat and held it up before the kid’s eyes. “I found our stolen gold!” I declared. “We can let ‘im go now, right?”

Some of them still thought he ought to spend three-hundred years in jail. Wow. Kids could be brutal.

I let a still fuming Adrian out of the jail. “And that’s why ye don’t steal from the crew!” I declared.

I felt like I’d worked three shifts by the end of the day, but the kids were all smiles. Despite Adrian’s death-glares, no one’s parents complained. That made it a good day. As soon as night fell I dropped the pirate act. I changed into shorts and a t-shirt, usually with a hat or sunglasses, before wandering the upper decks. Very rarely was I recognized but if I was, I had a handful of excuses ready. I was undercover. I was secretly looking for treasure. Anything that would make a child believe me.

I sat at the bow of the ship with my copy of Arabian Nights. Sure, some of what Adrian said stung, but it wasn’t enough for me to abandon Arabian Nights. Besides, a poor translation was better than none at all, wasn’t it?

“For you.”

I looked up at the voice. A pirate looked back at me, but I didn’t recognize him. He was probably a new hire. I stared incomprehensibly at the glass of red wine he held out.

“It’s Screaming Eagle cabernet sauvignon,” he added helpfully. “1992.”

I knew absolutely nothing about wines. Well, that wasn’t quite true. I knew how to drink wine, but I didn’t know whether or not to be impressed with this particular kind of cabernet sauvignon.

“It’s from the gentleman over there,” the new hire informed me.

I followed his gesture to a table. Adrian, seated with Angelica and a tall, curly-haired woman, raised a glass as if in a toast. I offered an awkward wave as I took a sip. It tasted…like cabernet sauvignon. “It came with a note,” the waiter added, handing me a napkin.

I unfolded the napkin and smothered a laugh. The handwriting was loopy, extravagant cursive written in Sharpie. It looked, in short, exactly what anyone would expect from a famous writer. Elegant and fanciful.

Lance. It is not often that I admit to my mistakes. However, in hindsight, I realize some of my comments were out of line. I’m sorry about your mother. I know what it feels like to lose a family member, particularly one who is very close to you, and because I know, I should’ve acted with far more grace and empathy than I did. Sincerely, Adrian Lafayette.

The note felt overly eloquent, especially when I hadn’t exactly been that offended over what happened. Sure, I’d thought Adrian’s behavior was harsh, but it seemed out of character for him to offer an apology. My impression of Adrian was that he wouldn’t have offered an apology even if he’d had a gun held to his head. Maybe I’d misjudged him. Or maybe he just really wanted to get in my pants again. “Will you tell him I appreciate it?” I asked. “That’s very considerate of him, and this is…the best wine I’ve ever had!”

It wasn’t, but what was the harm in a little white lie?

“Sure! I can do that.”

He offered a roguish wink before walking away. I shook the wine glass a bit and watched the liquid swirl around it. Well, I wasn’t going to turn down an apology and free booze, at any rate. I closed my book and focused on the wine, inhaling its deep scent and sipping it bit by bit. An old boyfriend had taught me to drink wine. He’d come from old money, and he’d taught me a lot. I’d developed my love of books from him; he’d had the most magnificent library I’d ever seen in someone’s house.

I watched Adrian, but I tried not to be too overt about it. He didn’t look particularly happy; actually, he looked bored to death and Angelica looked sullen, too. In fact, the only person at the table who seemed to be enjoying herself was the tall, curly-haired woman. She was stunning. Her long hair lay over her shoulders in a river of carefully-styled beach curls. Her skin was very pale and seemed even more so in contrast with her royal blue sundress. What was her story? Was she Adrian’s girlfriend? His publicist?

Adrian stood. My heart pounded in my chest as he headed in my direction. I glanced at my copy of Arabian Nights and considered trying to hide it behind me.

“Adrian,” I said. “How are you?”

Adrian crossed his arms. “I’m well. You?”

“Good.”

“You’re well.”

“Correcting my grammar, huh?” I asked. “You do realize that the vernacular follows its own grammatical and syntactical rules, right?”

“Did you pick that up from your one semester of community college?” Adrian growled.

He was so elitist! “A friend, actually,” I said. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

Adrian furrowed his brow. “The wine’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Thank you.”

Adrian nodded stiffly.

“How’s Angelica?” I asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “I may have Googled you,” I admitted. “Once I realized you were a famous writer. I saw that you lost your omega, and I know Angelica is your daughter. I assumed…”

“That you’d just stick your nose into stuff that isn’t your business?” Adrian snapped.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said. “I just wanted to find out about you after you sent me into heat.”

“And what? You’re concerned about my daughter because she lost her mom? We have a therapist for that, so mind your own business.”

“It’s my job to entertain children. I like kids. I just wanted to know if she was having fun,” I said. “There’s no need to be such a jerk about it.”

“She’s a small child and it’s a giant pirate ship. Of course she’s having fun.”

“But you aren’t.”

“Like I said, this is meant for children.”

“Okay, but if you aren’t enjoying yourself, she isn’t going to have as much fun,” I offered. “Not to be that person, but it’s true. Lighten up a little. I promise we’re nice people, really.”

Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose. “I won’t justify myself to you,” he said.

“I’m not asking you to,” I replied. “I just want you to enjoy yourself. That’s all. You look and act so miserable.”

“If I want to be miserable, that’s none of your business.”

“That’s true,” I replied. “But I’ve learned in life that being miserable doesn’t really help any situation. If anything, you should strive to be positive. It increases your chances of survival.”

“Survival? Are you planning to strand me on an island in the hopes of reenacting Lord of the Flies?”

I had heard of that book but never read it. “No,” I replied cheerfully. “I thought I’d just throw you to the sharks. Much less effort on my part.”

“Wonderful. So you’re always optimistic, huh?”

“I try to be.”

Adrian rolled his eyes. “How naïve.”

“Why are you here?” I asked.

Adrian stared hard at me, his eyes intense. I averted my gaze and took a sip of the wine. “Angelica is going through her pirate phase. Or she was. I thought this would be a fun bonding activity for us,” he said. “But she’s not even interested in pirates anymore. She cared about them when she was nine. Now she’s ten and pirates are out.”

I’d meant why had he come over to talk to me, but this worked, too.

“Little girls do change their interests quickly sometimes,” I offered.

Adrian shrugged. “Now it’s princesses, so it’s a bit of a downgrade. All the dresses and balls and crap.”

“She’s a little girl,” I said. “Her interests don’t have to make sense to you, but you should still support them. How is her liking princesses doing anyone any harm? Maybe you should pitch her on the idea of being a pirate princess given the situation. Like Grace O’Malley was.”

“And you’re just the best parent in the world, aren’t you?” Adrian asked.

“I want to be,” I replied.

“How ambitious,” Adrian sneered.

“I think being a parent would suit me,” I offered, too tired to argue with him. “It’s as noble a choice as any other I might make. Don’t you think devoting your life to raising and nourishing another person is worthwhile?”

“I guess,” Adrian replied. “But right now, it’s just Angelica. She’s a handful.”

“She’s been through a lot,” I offered.

“We all have,” Adrian admitted. “You’re right in that regard. Getting use out of the Psych 101, too.”

I sighed. “You know, just because you’re absolutely brilliant doesn’t mean you’re inherently superior to me in every respect.”

“No,” Adrian agreed. “You definitely bottom better than I ever could.”

“Wow,” I said. “You’re just a regular Casanova, aren’t you?”

Adrian paused and seemed to seriously consider that for a few seconds. “I don’t like thinking about the ways in which people are better than me,” he said.

“Right. That must be hard for someone with your wealth and fame.”

“Wealth and fame don’t necessarily guarantee a healthy self-esteem,” Adrian said. “But if I’m being honest, I’ll admit that you are definitely better with kids than I am. I think I might be a bit jealous, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Adrian replied. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” I said. “I’m already poised to begin flaunting my superiority.”

Adrian rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.