She Crashed Into His Yacht By Mistake, Not Knowing He Was a Millionaire Who’d Soon Fall for Her

The Collision and the Invitation

Jessa Orwood didn’t mean to crash into the yacht, especially not while wearing a soaked sundress, gripping a broken paddle, and cursing loudly enough to make a priest blush.

“Hey, watch it!” a sharp voice boomed from the deck above her right before she slammed into the sleek white hull of the yacht.

“I’m trying,” she yelled back, flailing as her tiny rental kayak bumped hard against the side of the massive boat.

A strong hand reached down and grabbed her arm. “You’re going to tip that thing”.

“Too late,” she muttered right before the kayak flipped, plunging her into the cold bay water.

By the time Jessa resurfaced, sputtering and furious, the man had already jumped down and was helping her onto the back platform of the yacht. She landed on her knees, coughing up seawater, her wet hair slapping into her face.

“You all right?” he asked. His voice was deep, steady, and annoyingly calm.

“No, I just crashed into a floating hotel and drowned a little,” she snapped, wiping water from her eyes. “Thanks though”.

When she looked up, her breath caught. He was barefoot, shirtless, and looked like he belonged on the cover of a yacht magazine. His sun-kissed skin, messy dark hair, and sharp jawline would have been enough to distract her.

But the way his intense hazel eyes studied her, like she was some kind of puzzle, made her stomach twist. “I didn’t mean to hit your yacht,” she said, suddenly self-conscious. “The current pulled me. I wasn’t trying to trespass”.

“You always paddle into private property, or just on weekends?” he asked dryly.

“I was trying to get to the marina. Clearly, I suck at directions”.

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he grabbed a towel and handed it to her. “You could have been hurt”.

“I’m fine”.

“You’re shivering”.

She was, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “I’ll call the kayak rental place. They’ll come get me”.

He raised a brow. “You sure they’ll find you out here?”.

She hesitated. She had drifted farther than she thought. The coastline was barely visible from where they were anchored, and her phone had taken a swim with her.

“I don’t have my phone,” she mumbled, holding the towel tighter around herself.

“Figures,” he said. “Come inside, dry off. Then we’ll figure it out”.

“I’m not going into a stranger’s boat”.

He crossed his arms. “You crashed into it. It’s kind of late to play cautious”.

It was a fair point. “Fine,” she said. “But if you murder me, I hope you get arrested”.

He cracked a grin. “Noted”.

She followed him inside, her bare feet slipping slightly on the polished floors. The interior of the yacht was jaw-dropping: white leather seating, glass walls, a kitchen with marble counters, and a chandelier. A freaking chandelier on a boat.

“Holy crap,” she muttered. “This isn’t a boat. This is a floating penthouse”.

He opened a cabinet and handed her a hoodie. “Here, it’ll be warmer”.

She took it and pulled it over her wet clothes. It smelled like him: cologne, sea air, and something expensive she couldn’t name.

“I’m Jessa,” she said finally, realizing she should introduce herself.

“Yaren Zeller,” he said.

She blinked. “Yaren”.

He nodded once, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and handing it to her.

“Never heard that name before. I like to be memorable”.

She looked around again. “You are renting this?”.

“No”.

“Oh.” Her eyebrows lifted. “You work on it?”.

He gave her a look. “No”.

“Then what are you doing on it?”.

“I own it”.

She choked on the water she just sipped. “You own this?”.

He leaned against the counter. “I do”.

“Like, on own?”.

“Yes”.

Her jaw dropped. “This thing is worth more than my apartment building”.

“Probably”.

Jessa stared at him. “Are you rich?”.

He didn’t answer, just looked at her with a slight tilt of his head, as if trying to decide something.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re not just some random guy with a yacht”.

“No,” he said finally. “I’m not”.

She folded her arms. “Well, I didn’t crash into your boat on purpose, if that’s what you’re thinking”.

“I didn’t say you did”.

“But you’re looking at me like I’m some gold-digging klutz”.

He walked slowly toward her, eyes never leaving hers. “I’m looking at you like you’re the first surprise I’ve had in a while”.

She blinked.

“Most people who end up on this yacht are either invited or trying to impress me,” he said. “You’re soaking wet, barefoot, and just told me off. It’s refreshing”.

Jessa stared up at him, unsure how to respond. Then his phone rang. He glanced at its side and placed it face down on the counter.

“Your people calling?” she asked.

“Something like that. Tell them the ship’s under attack by a rogue kayaker”.

He laughed low and rough. “They’d probably believe it”.

She smiled despite herself. Yarin walked over to the window and looked out at the sea. “You hungry?”.

Her stomach growled loudly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, already moving.

An hour later, Jessa was dry, warm, and sitting across from him on the deck under the stars. The chef, because yes, he apparently had a private chef on the yacht, had made grilled sea base, roasted vegetables, and some bread that tasted like heaven.

“This is insane,” she said between bites. “I crashed into your boat and now I’m eating better than I have in months”.

He sipped his wine. “Maybe it was fate”.

She scoffed. “Fate doesn’t usually involve kayak accidents”.

“Maybe it does”.

She looked at him. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who believes in fate”.

“I don’t,” he paused. “But I’m starting to think today might be an exception”.

Her heart fluttered. She quickly looked away. “Where were you headed?” he asked.

“Nowhere. I just needed to get out, clear my head. Bad day. Bad year”.

He nodded like he understood. “You want to talk about it?”.

She shook her head. “Not tonight”.

“Fair enough”.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, the ocean calm around them.

“You know,” she said, glancing up at him. “You’re a lot less arrogant than I expected”.

He looked amused. “Disappointed?”.

“Relieved,” she said.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I’m glad you crashed into my yacht, Jessa”.

She laughed. “That’s not something you hear every day”.

“No,” he said. “But this isn’t an ordinary day”.

And the way he looked at her then, like she was the only person in the world, made her heart do something dangerous. Something she wasn’t prepared for.

Jessa hadn’t planned on staying the night. But when the sky darkened into an ink kai velvet and the wind picked up, Yarren insisted it wasn’t safe to send her back in a rescue boat.

She hadn’t argued, mostly because she was too tired to pretend she wasn’t cold, or that her limbs didn’t ache from paddling for hours earlier.

Now she stood barefoot in the guest cabin, staring at the bed that probably cost more than her car. The sheets were crisp, the lighting soft and golden, and a ridiculous bouquet of white orchids sat on the nightstand.

It was like someone had hired a designer just to style the room for a magazine shoot. She touched one of the pedals. “You ever have guests who accidentally crash in?”.

Yarin’s voice came from the doorway. “You’re the first”.

She turned. He leaned against the door frame, freshly showered and dressed in a navy linen shirt that was unbuttoned at the throat. His hair was still damp, curling slightly near the collar.

“I don’t usually do this,” she said, folding her arms. “Stay on yachts with strangers”.

He stepped inside but kept his distance. “Then I guess we’re both outside the lines tonight”.

She tilted her head. “You don’t seem like someone who colors inside the lines anyway”.

“That’s true,” he said. “But I don’t make a habit of inviting people in who crash into things either”.

She smiled, but it faded quickly. “I’ll be out of your way first thing in the morning”.

He nodded but didn’t look away. “You don’t have to rush”.

“I do. I’ve got work”. She hesitated. “Don’t look at me like that. I have to pay rent”.

“I wasn’t judging,” his voice was quiet. “What do you do?”.

She hesitated again. Most people lost interest the second she answered. “I’m a server at this breakfast place near the boardwalk”. “I also help out at a florists on weekends”.

“Florists?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

“That fits? Because I smell like roses, or because I’m good at arranging things people forget to water?”.

He let out a brief laugh. “Because it sounds like something you’d be good at”.

She blinked. “You don’t even know me”.

His eyes flickered over her face. “I’m starting to”.

Her heart jumped. She turned away under the pretense of adjusting the pillow. “Well, don’t get too curious. I’m not that interesting”.

“I disagree,” he said.

The silence stretched a few seconds too long, and then he said, “If you change your mind in the morning, I can have the crew bring you back after breakfast”.

“There’s a crew?” she asked, glancing up.

“They are off tonight. But yes, of course there is”.

She muttered, “Let me guess, you have a helicopter too?”.

His mouth tugged into a grin. “Not on this yacht”.

She shook her head. “This is a whole other universe”.

Yarin stepped back into the hallway. “Get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning”.

She closed the door after he left, heart thuting harder than it should have.