Eight
My sandals clicked on the floor as I walked into the galley. Just like the previous night, the half of us off work for the evening were gathered in the lounge and galley, and chatter filled the air over the sounds of Roy cooking.
He spotted me and wolf-whistled. I grinned at him before taking a deep inhale of the Bolognese sauce that simmered on the stove, carefully holding back my long hair from the steam.
“Ready for your hot night out?” Roy asked.
“Cat and I are going to dinner.” I tipped my chin at the more rambunctious crowd in the lounge. “Not to the club like the rest, but to a café.”
He smiled and stirred. “Are you more of a quiet evening kind of girl?”
“Good food and good company. Yes, please.”
“You look great.” He eyed my pin-striped romper. “Don’t you think so, Seb?”
