Wade Ferguson stood on the deck of the Sea Witch and looked out at the endless stretch of ocean. It was a clear day, the bright blue sky serving as a backdrop for a few wispy clouds and the occasional flock of gulls or pelicans.
He’d not talked to India Larkspur since they had boarded. She’d gone to her cabin immediately, a troupe of crewmen trailing her with her baggage. One of them had asked her what cabin she and her "husband" would be sharing.
"He’s not my husband," she’s snapped, and then she’d laughed - not pleasantly, Wade had noticed.
It was obvious she was taking clear pains to avoid him, not that it bothered Wade in the least. She was obviously suffering from wounded pride and would put off being around him until she had to, just like Rosario.
Wade shook his head. For a good-looking guy he sure did have bad luck with women. Just when he thought he’d gotten the fever that was Rosario out of his blood, along comes another woman enough like her to rekindle it.