I was ravenous and also a little tired by the time "Cook" served dinner in the galley. A reddened blister itched and burned on one of my palms, despite my foresight to wear gloves. It would be gone in the morning but still managed to sting.

"I see you found your sea legs easily," Norman complimented, digging into his food, and I smiled.

"Been on boats a few times." I didn't know how much these people knew about me, but I refused to reveal who my father was if they didn't know.

I've been on boats of all sizes. We owned a cruise liner, a sailboat, motorboats, jet skis, and power boats. Before my father's heart surgery, we sailed often.

Most things were not so different from a sailboat, and I am a quick study. The others were friendly, helpful people who got along with the ease of individuals who had worked together for a while, and I felt confident I would soon fit in with them.

Swan stalked into the room, and I half expected the atmosphere to change, but they seemed to accept him just as he was.

"Hey Cap, found out what we're going to be working on yet?" Norman asked, and the others stilled. The sudden sense of anticipation in the air was electric, and I realized they knew something I did not. He smirked, and I momentarily forgot how to chew or swallow.

He was handsome when angry, but when he smirked like that, most women would prostrate themselves at his feet. There was something in his eyes, though, akin to pain. A shadow that didn't leave, even when he smiled.

"We'll know in the morning; for now, all we have is a heading and a forecast for clear skies." He helped himself to a hearty plate of food, enjoying the suspense he created.

He sat at the table and talked to the crew, joking with them. The only person he ignored was me, and he did it so subtly that no one else noticed.

The entire evening, as we sat around in the galley with nothing better to do than talk, he never acknowledged me in any way.

I learned a lot as I listened to them speak of the things they had done together. The situations they were in before and a tiny sliver of excitement took root in my soul.

I had nothing to add to the conversation but learned much about them, their roles, and their work as they spoke. They were a quirky bunch of people, and adventure ran in their veins. They lived for what lay around the next corner.

If I survived Swan's strange animosity, would I become like them--intrigued by the unknown and hooked on the adventure of it all.

I didn't know the answer to that yet, but I would like to find out. Callum was the tech guy but didn't fit any definition of the word 'tech nerd,' and it was his turn to share a story.

"I was on this archeological dig with Norman. We were in North Africa and wandered into the territory of Harim Huganda. We were shitting ourselves, and Norman, clutz that he is, toys with this machine gun he found. The thing goes off, and he shoots this white bull that's like worshipped by these people." His hand gestures and how his entire body told the story with him were hilarious.

"I mean, there are two hundred cows in that village, and he shoots the prize bull. He always says you throw a million dollars and a turd up into the air, he'll catch the turd, but I didn't believe him until that day."

I had already laughed so much that my cheeks and sides hurt, and this was not what I expected. It hadn't even been a full day, and despite Swan, this was already more fun than I had in years.

"Huganda chased us with armed men and dogs. Look, we were not afraid; we were shitting ourselves. I swear, every time Norman moved, it was squelch, squelch."

"Sissies," someone nettled.

"I kid you not, brother. You could track us without dogs; you just had to follow Norman's shit trail. We got the hell out of there, stole a jeep, petrol, and guns. Halfway to the next village, I spot a patrol, grab the gun, aim it at the guys, and click-click-click. No bullets. We had a crate full of guns on that jeep and not a damned bullet. Bam, we were so screwed."

"Norman was wallowing around in his own shit, but that man drove us by those jeeps and flying bullets like we were in a damn plain. He even jumped that thing over a fence and nearly killed us when the doggoned thing hit the ground with no bloody shocks, but we high-tailed it out of there. Ten miles later, glug, glug, no petrol. The tank had a hole in it, and the damned jerry cans got riddled. We should have been fried, but our guardian angels were on the case." He took a swig of water like it was whiskey.

"When we finally ran into the camp two days later, in a flat spin, we stumbled into each other on the rain slick ground, fell headlong in a pile of elephant crap, and ended up manure covered, a sight for sore eyes, and right at Nora's feet. She stared down at us, and just then, I was more scared of her than Huganda." Someone filled his glass again, and he took a deep swig, realizing a moment too late that it wasn't water. He sputtered, and it was just part of the fun.

"Damn, that be some fine Vodka there. Well, Nora stared down at us, and all she says is, 'I think you two are in deep shit.' Andrew arrives, frowns at us, and he goes, 'well, are you staying there, or are we getting the hell out of here while the getting is good?'"

I couldn't laugh anymore, but he just continued, high on the moment.

"Huganda wanted us strung up by our balls. Nora, Callum, and Andrew had to smuggle us out of the country in the back of a truck. Five hours with some baled stuff in wooden crates trying to crush us, fifty chickens in pens that shouldn't fit a pigeon, and ten piglets packed like sardines and shitting all over our legs." He shook his head, emptying the glass. "Nora was so pissed she almost fired us," Norman said, suddenly sober.

"The lady doesn't get pissed easily, but when she does get pissed, she's scary. All cool and calm, but her eyes almost glowing with fury," Callum added with a healthy respect for his boss's anger. "I would have fired you both and made you get out of there by yourselves."

They laughed at him.

"You did fire us both, but you got us out of there in one piece," Norman reminded, and Swan's smirk turned into a genuine smile. My legs turned to jellie, and if he weren't such an arsehole to me, I would have been in serious trouble.

Usually, I barely notice handsome men; they were trouble, but there was just something about this one.

How had I offended him? What about me did he despise so much that he could not treat me as he did the others?

Maybe it was that he didn't know me, but as our gazes met and the warm tones in his eyes cooled to ice, I knew it was me personally that he didn't like, and I didn't know why.