“Yeah, of course, right,” I rushed. “Why would he be? Half the women on this ship would jump at the chance to…well, jump him, and the other half are lying to themselves. Why would he want someone twice?”

Penna flinched. “Shit, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to think he’s a man-whore or anything.”

I raised my eyebrows at her, and she looked around the room briefly before finally nodding. “Okay, so maybe he’s a little man-whorish, but his heart, that’s solid, untouched…for the most part, at least.”

I never understood people who could differentiate the two. Where my heart went, there my body did, and so forth. But if Paxton offered… I shut down that line of thinking and locked the door on it. “Why are you telling me this?”

She leaned forward. “Because he’s my oldest friend, and I care what you think about him. And I know he cares what you think about him, too.”

I swallowed. “Well, right now I think that he doesn’t know what an alarm clock is.”

She smiled. “How about I take you to him?”

“He’s not in his room?”

“Nope. And besides, I’d like to see what happens when he gets a load of how pissed you are. If you want to wait a few minutes, I’ll make popcorn.”

“Penna!”

She threw out her hands. “Just kidding. Give my piggies a chance to dry, and we’ll track him down.”

We didn’t have to wait long before Landon came in through the sliding door, dripping sweat. “Hey, asshat, knock!” Penna chastised, throwing a pillow at him.

“What? It’s not like I haven’t already seen you naked,” he shot back.

Penna snapped her gaze to me. “He didn’t mean it that way. We’ve been friends since we were kids, all of us.”

“Chill out, Penna. I don’t think Firecracker cares.” Landon laughed and sank into the couch across from me. “Damn, I’m wiped out. Pax is a fucking machine these last couple of days.”

Penna’s hand popped up. “He didn’t mean that, either. Pax hasn’t been fucking anyone, especially not Landon.”

“That’s none of my business,” I said, smoothing the lines of my leggings. As if leggings could have wrinkles.

“Yeah, anyway, he sent me to get you, Penna.” Landon lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and my eyebrows shot skyward. In some parallel universe, the Hemsworths were searching for their lost brother, because he was here. Landon was hot. Not in the walking sex-dream kind of hot that Paxton was, but a broodier hot.

“I want nothing to do with that damn trick.” She crossed her arms.

“It’s not like he has his bike out, Penna. He’s working on the BMX for Barcelona, and he’s going to need your advice before he gets himself killed.”

Killed? I sat up. “What is he doing?”

“Trying to nail a Five-forty Double Tailwhip in these waves,” Landon answered. “He’s going to break his damn neck.”

“Show me.”

…

“How the hell did he…?” I shook my head as I stared at the monstrosity onstage. “You know, I’m not sure I even want to know.”

“Yeah, that’s a question for Wilder,” Landon answered.

“He looks a little busy at the moment.”

Little was an understatement. Paxton was currently riding his BMX bike on a monstrous half-pipe that consumed the entire stage of the auditorium. My breath caught every time he rose over one end, flying through the air, the bike twisting while he turned above it, only to gracefully fall back to the pipe and glide to the other end so it could all begin again.

He was magnificent.

“How tall is that thing?” I asked Landon.

“About six meters. A little under twenty feet.”

“Isn’t this a little dangerous on a ship?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty moronic,” Landon agreed. “But he’s as stubborn as they come.”

“He’s a reckless idiot,” I whispered in equal parts awe and fear. I knew reckless guys, knew what happened when they mistakenly thought they were in control. He’s not Brian. Pax might be worse.

“That, he is.”

At least the idiot wore a helmet.

But he was a driven idiot. His movements were hypnotizing as we walked down the aisle toward the stage.

The ship pitched slightly. I caught myself on the back of a chair and gasped as Paxton hit the side of the ramp, sliding down in a heap of limbs. “Paxton!” I yelled.

He sat up and blocked the stage lights from his eyes. “Firecracker?”

Shit. Was I supposed to be using his real name in front of the cameras? Well, too late.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He stood, holding his handlebars. “Watching a Gilmore Girls marathon. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re being an absolute imbecile. Have you seen the waves out there?”

“What? No.” He walked the few feet between the ramp and the edge of the stage. It was only ten or so feet from the base of the stage to the bottom of the orchestra pit, but my stomach tightened all the same.

“He hasn’t left the theater during daylight hours in the last two days,” Landon said quietly.

“You’ve missed six classes,” I called up as we came closer, my neck craning to keep him in eyesight.