The Bosun: A Military Romance (Love is Blind Book 3)

a bunk bed. Our beds were on each side of the tiny room with a walkway between that was about a foot wide.
After pulling my formal black uniform out of the closet and slipping it on, I sat down on my bed and took in a deep breath. It was hard to find private time when everyone shared a room, so I took it when I could. I had a feeling it would do me good to help center myself before I had dinner with the guests.
Since I didn’t have time for a shower and knowing I didn’t have long before someone would come looking for me if I didn’t get to the aft deck soon, I slicked my black hair back and applied another layer of deodorant and a splash of cologne.
“Scout, Scout, Remy,” I called through the walkie-talkie.
“Scout here,” he said.
“I’ve been asked to have dinner with the guest, so you’re in charge until I relieve you.”
“I won’t let you down,” Scout said.
I knew he wouldn’t. He was a great senior deckhand, and Owen would listen to him. They were a dream crew.
Heading upstairs, I squared my shoulders and put a smile on my face as I stepped through the door to outside, where all the ladies were laughing loudly. The moment their eyes landed on me, they quieted—all except the primary whose eyes were glassy from drinking all day.
“There’s the man of the hour,” she stood and clapped. The rest of the ladies followed. Stella blushed as she stood and lightly clapped. “Please have a seat.” Zelda motioned to the chair that was across from Stella.
Moving to stand at the head of the table, I tried to persuade them to let me go. “Ladies, I appreciate the offer, but surely you don’t want lame ol’ me to join you.”
“Of course, we want you. You saved our sweet Stella,” the primary said a little too loudly. She was buzzed, going on drunk. I had a feeling O was making the drinks tonight. She liked to pour them strong in the hopes that the charter guests would go to sleep early. “Right, Stell?”
The woman of the hour bit her bottom lip as she hid behind a curtain of long, shiny black hair. “Please join us,” she finally said as quietly as a mouse.
It was obvious she was embarrassed about what happened earlier. I mean, it wasn’t often you heard of people falling overboard while drinking their second glass of Champagne.
Not wanting to humiliate her further, I pulled the seat out across from her and sat down. Looking down the table at everyone, I gave them my best smile. “Thank you for having me. I have to admit, this is my first time being asked to join any guests for dinner.”
“I can hardly believe that with looks like yours,” Zelda purred. I held the urge to cringe and back away. She had one too many rounds of plastic surgery, and she was actually hard to look at.
“You’ll be fine as long as you have good table manners,” the one I thought was named Reagan said.
Stella swung her head toward her friend with narrowed eyes. The woman next to her with caramel-colored hair turned to Stella with her mouth in an ‘O.’
“That was rude. I’m sorry,” Stella apologized for her friend.
I waved it away. It was, but I’d heard worse. All I could do was grin and bear it.
The girls at the other end of the table went back to chatting with each other while our end stayed silent.
Luckily, the stews brought out our dinner plates. I was grateful I hadn’t been invited to a seven-course meal. I planned to gracefully bow out after the dessert and get back to work. Scout was supposed to work late tonight and would need a break before he was up almost all night.
“How long have you been working on yachts?” The caramel colored haired woman asked across from me.
“Only a couple of years,” I answered back as I took a bite of my steak. It melted in my mouth, and I let out a little hum of delight.
“Do you eat like this every night?” Penelope asked before Stella glared at her. “What?” She mouthed to her friend beside her.
When Stella saw me watching them, she smiled and went back to eating. Was she so shy because I saved her?
“Not usually, but I never pass up a meal made by our chef.” Guests didn’t understand how busy chefs were. I swear I never saw Dean not cooking.
“You might not have him for long. If he keeps serving us food like this, I’m going to snatch him up and hire him as my own personal chef.” Zelda smiled wide.
I couldn’t imagine having enough money to be able to do that. Although most of the people who chartered yachts for vacations probably already had maids, butlers, and chefs on the daily, I didn’t like it when they flaunted wealth like Zelda did a moment ago.
“I’d be happy for someone to cook a can of soup for me every once in a while,” Stella told Penelope out of the corner of her mouth.
“You’ve got to find yourself a good man. Maybe a chef,” Scarlett spoke up. She seemed pretty quiet, and it was easy to forget she was here. I had a feeling she liked it that way. She probably knew everyone’s secrets.
I looked at Stella’s left hand and found it ringless. All the women seemed to be single if their naked ring fingers were any indication.
“I don’t need a man, but I would be happy to get laid by someone who knows what they’re doing,” Stella practically yelled.
I nearly spit my food out at her declaration. Even though it was strictly against the rules, I wouldn’t mind showing her a good time.
Ophelia was definitely making the drinks tonight. Halfway through her margarita and Stella was finally starting to let loose. Her cheeks were flushed from alcohol, and she couldn’t stop her deep brown eyes from landing on