Read the first 3 chapters of Captain's Orders!

Chapter 1 - Dani

The morning had that particular quality of Florida light that made everything look like a photograph—the kind of saturated colors that promised heat by noon. Dani and her two freelancers had been busy since six, checking staterooms, arranging flowers, and making sure every surface gleamed. Full capacity charter. Twelve guests. No room for error.

Full capacity charters were always more work, but the Whitfields had been easy to communicate with during the planning stage. It was an anniversary trip for the grandparents, the whole family coming together for a week in the Bahamas. Sweet, really. The kind of charter that reminded Dani why she loved this job—when it wasn't bachelorette parties with champagne-soaked tantrums and bridesmaids who thought the yacht was their personal Instagram set.

She stood at the base of the gangway with her tray—champagne flutes for the adults, sparkling lemonade with strawberry garnishes for the children.

Captain Jordan stood to her right, hands clasped behind her back. That Navy posture, as always—spine straight, shoulders squared, chin lifted. Her service in the Navy had etched itself into Jordan's bones, into the way she held herself, the way she surveyed the dock with those sharp gray eyes. Dani had spent her charter career learning to read the subtle shifts in Jordan's expression that were the only cracks in an otherwise flawless composure. Right now, Jordan looked calm. Ready.

The rest of the team stood to her left: Zoe, their first mate, scanning the approaching vehicles, Lindsay, their chef, who'd abandoned the galley just long enough for the welcome but kept glancing back toward the stairs as if her soufflés might collapse without supervision, and Rei, their engineer, with her blue hair freshly touched up.

Behind them, Dani's two freelancers, Elsa and Netty, both back after surviving the bachelorette nightmare last week, waited to help with luggage and settling the guests.

The Whitfields arrived in three identical black Range Rovers, and Dani counted heads.

The patriarch emerged first—a tall man in his late sixties with a full head of white hair. Gerald Whitfield, according to the pictures in the booking system. He wore pressed chinos and a pale blue oxford, a gold watch on his wrist. Behind him came his wife Patricia, elegant in flowing linen, a silk scarf knotted at her throat. Forty years of marriage. Dani wondered what that felt like. Waking up next to the same person ten thousand times and still choosing them.

"Welcome aboard the Maiden Voyage," Captain Jordan said, stepping forward. "I'm Captain Jordan Hayes. Congratulations on your anniversary. We're honored to have you."

"Thank you, Captain." Gerald gave her a firm handshake. "This is my wife Patricia. It's a miracle she still puts up with me."

Patricia rolled her eyes with obvious affection. "Barely. Though I'm hoping a week in the Bahamas might remind me why I married you in the first place."

"The rum punch," Gerald said. "It was definitely the rum punch."

Dani liked them already.

The next Range Rover disgorged a man in his early forties who had Gerald's height and jawline—the son, along with a petite redhead who was his wife. Three children tumbled out behind them. Olivia, twelve, had earbuds in and looked terribly blasé for a kid about to step aboard a luxury yacht. The younger two—Emma, ten, and Jack, eight—shoved each other as they ran over the gangplank.

"My son David," Gerald said, gesturing. "His wife Caroline. And the grandchildren—Olivia, Emma, and Jack."

Dani greeted them and moved in with the tray, distributing drinks. Caroline took her champagne gratefully and sighed after taking her first sip. "Please tell me there's more of this on board."

"Plenty," Dani assured her. "And the bar is always open."

"You're my new favorite person."

The children grabbed their sparkling lemonades—Olivia with teenage reluctance, Emma with enthusiasm, Jack with enough force that it sloshed over the rim. Dani caught the drip with a napkin and a smile that didn't waver.

From the last car came the rest of the family: a woman in her late thirties with Patricia's cheekbones—the daughter—followed by a bearded man in board shorts and a polo shirt, and three more children: Tyler, the oldest at fourteen; Noah, six; and little Bea, five, clutching a stuffed elephant and looking at the yacht wide-eyed.

"And this is our daughter Sarah, her husband Mark, and their crew—Tyler, Noah, and little Bea."

"Nana!" Bea released the elephant long enough to throw herself at Patricia's legs. "Nana, are we going to see fishies?"

"So many fishies, sweetheart." Patricia scooped her up. "And maybe dolphins too, if we're lucky."

Then the last Range Rover's door opened one more time.

A young woman stepped out—mid-twenties, dark hair pulled back in a practical bun, wearing sensible flats and carrying a backpack. Her arms were loaded with stuffed toys.

"Oh—and this is Grace. She helps with the kids," Sarah said. "Grace, hurry up, we're boarding."

Dani's smile froze, and she looked at the captain.

Thirteen. Not twelve.

Gerald Whitfield didn't seem to notice anything amiss. He was already admiring the yacht's lines, one hand on Patricia's shoulder, pointing out something on the deck to Bea.

Grace smiled and shook their hands. There were no drinks left on the tray.

"I'll get you a glass," Dani said. "Champagne? Or something else?"

Grace opened her mouth to answer, but Sarah cut in. "Oh, she doesn't drink. She's working."

"Mrs. Brennan," Captain Jordan's voice cut through the moment. "I'm afraid I don't have Grace listed on the charter agreement. The booking was for twelve guests."

Sarah's eyebrows rose. "Was it? I thought we mentioned—" She looked at her husband, who shrugged. Then at her mother, who was occupied with Bea's questions about dolphins. "I'm sure we must have mentioned her. She always travels with us. The little ones are a handful."

"I don't doubt it." Jordan's voice remained pleasant. "Unfortunately, twelve berths means twelve guests. All of our guest accommodations are assigned."

"Well." Sarah laughed, a little uncomfortably. "Grace can sleep on a sofa or something, can't she? She won't mind." She glanced at the young woman. "Right, Grace?"

"Sure," she said. "Whatever works."

What else was she supposed to say? Actually, I do mind being treated like an afterthought? She couldn't. They all knew she couldn't.

Gerald had turned back now, registering that something had stalled the boarding process. "What's the holdup?"

"An issue with the guest count, Mr. Whitfield," Jordan said. "We have twelve berths and thirteen guests."

"Thirteen?" Gerald frowned, then spotted Grace, and understanding dawned. "Ah. The nanny. Sarah, didn't you tell them about Grace?"

"I thought Mark did."

"I thought you did," Mark said.

It bothered Dani that they talked about Grace like she wasn't standing three feet away. Like she was a scheduling conflict rather than a person.

"Does it matter who thought what?" Gerald said. "She's here now. Surely there's somewhere she can sleep. A couch, a—what do you call it—a daybed somewhere?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Jordan said. "Maritime safety regulations require all passengers to have a designated berth. I can't legally sail with thirteen people if I only have twelve assigned berths."

Silence. The Whitfield adults exchanged glances—that quick family semaphore of who's going to handle this? Nobody looked at Grace.

The other children, oblivious to the tension, were already exploring the yacht, and Dani heard Zoe redirecting them away from something.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" Gerald asked. "That we leave Grace behind? She's essential. Six children, Captain. Six."

"I understand the difficulty—"

"But we need Grace." Gerald sighed, looking a little panicked now. "We've paid a considerable amount for this charter. There must be a solution."

Patricia lowered Bea back to the deck and put a hand on Gerald's arm. "Gerald."

"No, Pat. We're talking about one person. One." He turned back to Jordan. "What about your crew quarters? Surely there's a spare bunk somewhere down there. I'll pay extra. Double the rate for the extra person. Whatever it takes."

Dani held her breath. Crew quarters were their sanctuary—the only space on the yacht that belonged to them. The tiny cabin she shared with Lindsay, with its narrow bunks and books and the photos taped to the wall. The thought of a guest, even a nice one, wasn't pleasant and besides, with their freelancers on board, there were no crew berths free.

Jordan was silent for a beat, weighing the charter fee against the intrusion, the client's satisfaction against her crew's boundaries. "I'll need to speak with my crew before I can commit," she said. "Dani, Lindsay, can I have a moment with you?" She turned to the freelancers. "Elsa, Netty, will you please show the guests the lounge? We won't be long."

Elsa and Netty guided the Whitfields inside and Grace followed, still clutching the stuffed animals.

Jordan waited until the guests were out of earshot, then turned to Dani and Lindsay.

"Before you say anything, hear me out," she said. "I have a pull-out bed in my cabin. One of you can sleep there, and the other shares with Grace in your cabin."

Lindsay's eyebrows shot up. "So we're giving up our privacy for the nanny they forgot to mention?"

"Wait—I hadn't finished," Jordan continued. "Gerald Whitfield will be charged nine thousand dollars for the extra guest. That's the standard fee. Take off a thousand for food and beverage and that extra fee gets split between the two of you. That's four thousand dollars each on top of your tip."

Dani and Lindsay exchanged a glance and Lindsay's whole demeanor changed. She straightened, eyes widening. "Four thousand? Each?"

"Each."

"Okay. I'll share with the nanny," Lindsay said without hesitation. "Done. Absolutely."

Dani bit back a smile. She'd never seen Lindsay pivot so quickly in her life. "I guess that means I'm with you, then," she said, turning to Jordan.

Jordan studied her. "You're sure? It's five nights. I know it's not ideal."

"It's fine. Really." Dani shrugged, aiming for casual.

"Okay." Jordan nodded. "As long as you're comfortable with the arrangement."

"I am if you are."

Something flickered across Jordan's face, too quick for Dani to read. "Good. Then it's settled. I'll speak to Gerald about the fee. Lindsay, back to the galley—we're behind schedule. Dani, get everyone settled."

Chapter Two - Jordan

The pull-out bed was stiff from disuse. In fact, it had never been used as far as Jordan could remember. She tugged at the mechanism, feeling the resistance of the hinges. She'd never had a reason to use it. The cabin was hers, and hers alone, and that was how she preferred it.

The bed finally released with a groan of metal, swinging down and locking into place. It wasn't large—a single, the kind of berth designed for occasional use—but it would do. Jordan tested the mattress with her palm. Firm. Clean. Dani would make her own bed.

Her cabin sat just aft of the bridge on the upper deck, a privilege of rank. It was small by land standards—everything on a yacht was small by land standards—but spacious compared to the cramped quarters the rest of the crew shared below. Her double berth was built into the starboard side, storage beneath. A compact desk was bolted to the port bulkhead, and there was a narrow wardrobe and a chest of drawers.

She also had an en-suite with a shower, a basin with a decent-sized mirror, and a small cabinet for toiletries.

Jordan scanned the cabin, checking if everything was in order for Dani's arrival. Of course it was in order. It was always in order. And besides, Dani had been in this cabin hundreds of times. She was the one who changed the sheets, restocked the towels, wiped down the surfaces. But Dani had never slept here.

Jordan opened the wardrobe to make some space, and pushed that thought aside along with her uniforms. She cleared a shelf for Dani's things. Then, after a moment's hesitation, cleared another. She didn't know how much Dani would bring. She didn't know anything about how Dani lived, really—what she wore to sleep, whether she was tidy or messy in her personal life. Four years of working together, and Jordan realized she knew almost nothing about Dani Ellis beyond the professional.

Her eyes fell on the small shelf above the desk, where two framed photographs sat propped against the bulkhead. Dani had seen them before, of course. Must have dusted them a hundred times.

But now Dani would be sleeping three feet away. Waking up here. And she might ask questions. Should she hide them? Jordan decided to leave the photographs where they were. Moving them now would only draw attention.

A knock at the door.

"Come in."

Dani stepped through the doorway, a duffel bag over one shoulder and a smaller toiletry case in her hand. "Hey. Am I interrupting?"

"No, of course not. This is your cabin too, now." Jordan gestured toward the wardrobe. "I asked Zoe to take over at the helm so I could clear out some space for you. Half the hanging area and two shelves. I wasn't sure how much you'd need."

"That's—thank you. That's more than enough." Dani hovered near the door, duffel bag still on her shoulder. "I don't have much."

"Right."

They stood there for a moment, neither quite sure what to do next.

Dani glanced at the pull-out bed, then back at Jordan. "Must be strange for you. Having someone in your space."

"It's been a while," Jordan said. "Not since the Navy." She gestured toward the bed. "I've pulled it out for you, but I wasn't sure where to find sheets—"

"Don't worry about it." Dani unzipped her bag. "That's my job."

Another beat of silence. Dani looked up, and for a moment their eyes met. Then Dani turned back to her bag.

Jordan watched her unpack, feeling weird, which was ridiculous. Out of everyone on the crew, Dani was the one she was most comfortable with. Jordan trusted her, relied on her to run the charter.

But over the years there had been moments. Small ones, easy to dismiss. A look that lingered a beat too long. A smile that sometimes bordered on flirtatious. Jordan had filed them away, told herself she was imagining things.

"I won't be long," Dani said. "I need to get back to the guests so I'll ask Netty to put on the sheets later. I just wanted to unpack now, so I don't wake you up when I go to bed tonight."

"I usually don't turn in until late anyway." Jordan leaned against the desk, trying to look more relaxed than she felt. "Is there anything I should know? I usually read in bed but if the light bothers you, I can use a book light. And I'm up early. I'll try to be quiet, but—"

"Jordan." Dani looked up from her bag, a hint of a smile on her face. "It's fine. I'm easy. I can sleep through anything—Lindsay snores like a diesel engine."

"Right."

"And I only need five minutes in the bathroom in the morning, so I won't be hogging the shower," Dani added, tucking a stack of clothes onto the shelf Jordan had cleared. "Honestly, you'll barely know I'm here."

Jordan doubted that very much. "Okay," she said. "Same here." She pushed off from the desk. "Well, I guess I'll see you later. I'll go check on Zoe."

She stepped into the corridor and pulled the door shut behind her, then stood there for a beat, hand still on the handle.

Five minutes. She'd lasted five minutes before inventing an excuse to leave her own cabin. Composure had always been her strongest suit but she had a feeling it was about to be tested.

Chapter Three - Dani

Lunch was served on the aft deck, the long table set with white linen and silverware. The Whitfields had requested alfresco dining for their first meal aboard, and Lindsay had prepared a Mediterranean spread of grilled sea bass with lemon and herbs, roasted vegetables glossy with olive oil, a quinoa salad studded with pomegranate seeds, a green salad scattered with herbs, and fresh bread still warm from the oven. It looked beautiful and elegant, the kind of meal that photographed well for the charter company's Instagram. For the children, Lindsay had made spaghetti bolognese but the younger ones weren't impressed.

"Bea doesn't eat fish or pasta," Sarah said, not looking up from her phone. "I'm sure I put that on the form."

It was definitely not on the form, but Dani's smile didn't waver. "I'm sorry about that. I'll check with the chef. In the meantime, we also have some grilled chicken I can bring out for the younger ones."

"Chicken's fine, but no sauce. Tyler has a texture issue and Noah won't eat anything green."

"Of course. Plain chicken, no greens." Dani retreated to the galley with the first round of modifications.

Patricia and Gerald, at least, were easy. They'd accepted their sea bass with genuine delight, Gerald already on his second glass of Sancerre, Patricia praising the presentation. David and Caroline were reasonable too—Caroline had asked for dressing on the side and David wanted extra bread.

And then there was Sarah's side of the table.

Tyler, fourteen and sullen, had his earbuds in and was ignoring everyone. He didn't like spaghetti bolognese either. Noah had already knocked over his water glass twice and was now building a fortress out of bread rolls. And Bea, with her stuffed elephant propped in the chair beside her, had burst into tears when she'd seen the fish because "it still has eyes, Mommy, it's looking at me."

Grace had calmed her down while Dani quickly served the adults and removed what was left of the fish from the table.

In the galley, Lindsay was carving chicken at the stainless steel counter. "That was quick," she said, taking the fish plate.

"I had to work fast; the fish had eyes," Dani said. "Could I have the chicken plain, please? Vegetables on the side? Noah doesn't eat green things and Tyler and Bea don't like the pasta." She shrugged. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Lindsay started plating the chicken. "It's not the first time and it won't be the last."

"Has Grace moved into my bunk yet?" Dani asked.

"Yeah, she's settling in. Honestly, I think she's relieved to be down here. Further away from Sarah? That's not a downgrade, that's a holiday." Lindsay smirked. "What about you? How do you feel about Operation Bunking With The Captain?"

Dani felt heat rise to her cheeks. "It's worth it for the extra cash. No big deal."

"No big deal? You're about to spend a week sharing a cabin with the woman you've been pining over since the day you first stepped aboard this yacht."

"I haven't been pining. Stop saying that."

"Everyone's seen it. I have a list."

"There's no list."

"There's absolutely a list. It's a mental one. I started it after the first time you openly gawked at her when she hauled that anchor line in by hand when the windlass jammed. Remember? First charter, forty knots of wind."

Dani remembered. She also remembered being unable to look away from Jordan's forearms, the cords of muscle standing out as she worked the line.

"You were practically drooling," Lindsay added.

"I was not—" Dani stopped herself. "Whatever. Just give me the chicken."

Lindsay handed her the plates with a grin that promised this conversation wasn't over.

Dani had barely set the chicken down when Sarah waved her over. "What's the plan for this afternoon?" she asked. "The kids are hoping for some water activities."

"Of course." Dani mentally scrolled through the itinerary the family had signed off on. They all had a printed copy in their rooms but most guests ignored them. "We're making the crossing to the Bahamas this afternoon and overnight, so we'll arrive at Highbourne Cay tomorrow morning. There's a beautiful private beach there, and we'll anchor for snorkeling and some time ashore."

"Tomorrow morning?" Sarah's voice rose. "The kids can't wait until tomorrow. They've been cooped up in a car all morning and need to burn off energy. They've been promised a beach today."

"We do have the hot tub on the sundeck," Dani offered.

"No, that's not good enough. They want to swim. In the ocean. Not a hot tub." Sarah's tone had an edge to it, the impatience of someone used to getting her way. "Can't we stop somewhere on the way?"

The rest of the adults looked a little irritated at Sarah's request, but they didn't interfere.

Dani kept her smile in place. She'd already anticipated this. "We can absolutely make a swim stop before the crossing. There's a beautiful reef anchorage about an hour from here—Looe Key. Shallow, clear water, lots of fish for the kids to see. We can anchor there for a couple of hours, let everyone swim, and then start the passage to the Bahamas afterward."

"That would be better." Sarah started scrolling through her phone while she took a bite of fish, apparently considering the matter settled.

Dani topped off their drinks and headed for the bridge. A route change meant recalculating arrival times, which meant adjusting dinner service, which meant Lindsay losing prep time. Everyone's planned breaks would shift around.

But the crew wouldn't complain. This was the job—adapting on the fly, making it look effortless, keeping the guests happy even when they tore up the itinerary before the first day was over.

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