This is Me Trying ⭑ Rafe Cameron

forty eight

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
[48]
song: starstruck by sorry

Cassie lugged the heavy bucket of soapy water up the narrow flight of stairs. The pounding bass from the nearby bar rang through the boat, making the hull tremble slightly, as if the entire yacht were vibrating in sync with the music.

Reaching the top deck, Cassie set the bucket down with a thud as she grabbed a towel and began working her way along the polished leather seats, watching the party unfold beneath her. The laughter and chatter from the bar mingled with the echo of clinking glasses, but she couldn't see much from her vantage point. The crowd below was a blur of expensive clothes and glossy hair, faces obscured by the bright, flickering lights from the bar's neon sign.

She scanned the area again, eyes narrowing as she tried to make out a familiar face in the crowd. No sign of Rafe. Which was probably a good thing, considering she had no real plan for how to keep him distracted.

Sofia had promised to keep her updated. She was bartending the party, and would text Cassie if she saw anything suspicious.

Cassie's stomach twisted with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. This was a risk— no, it was a gamble. She knew exactly how much could go wrong, but the adrenaline of it made her heart race. She wasn't fooling herself; this was bound to unravel in ways she wasn't ready for. But she also couldn't bring herself to care.

They were borrowing a boat. If Rafe wanted to make it a thing, he could make it a thing.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she turned to see Alvaro trudging up the stairs behind her, lugging a heavy vacuum with him. Cassie sighed, dropping the towel into the bucket and standing up straight, her muscles sore from hours of cleaning.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath.

Alvaro glanced around, searching for a nearby socket to plug the vacuum into. "What?"

Cassie inhaled deeply, the scent of saltwater mixing with the cleaners she had been using. She scratched her forehead in frustration. "I forgot to ask Leigh-Ann for the keys to the Jackman's boat. I'm supposed to move it to the marina up north."

Alvaro shrugged, his expression neutral. "When?"

Alvaro was an older, cranky, skinny man who'd migrated from Chile to the Outerbanks in the nineties, had been married to the same guy since then, and was second in charge at the marina.

Cassie's eyes flicked to the party below and back to Alvaro, her mind racing. "Before the morning. It was on the list. Totally slipped my mind. Did Leigh-Ann leave for the day?"

He glanced at his watch. "She's gone. I can do it if you want to finish up here."

Cassie shook her head. "No, I—" Her voice trailed off. "Do you have her number? I'll need the code for the clubhouse."

Alvaro grunted, bending down to untangle the vacuum cord. "She's at home with her kids. You missed a spot." He pointed to the spot on the leather chair Cassie had left behind.

Cassie clenched her jaw but forced herself to take a breath, "I don't want to bother her, but—"

"I have the code." Alvaro cut her off, annoyance edging his voice as he straightened up. "But you're gonna have to wait. This was supposed to be done an hour ago."

"Oh, I can just go grab it myself—"

He let out a small laugh as he shook his head. "I'm not supposed to let anyone in without a manager."

She shrugs. "Leigh-Ann lets me in all the time."

"Then why don't you have the code?" Alvaro asked, eyebrows raised.