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His eyes widen. “You’re from here?”
“I am.” Hopefully not forever.
He ponders on that for a beat. “You speak perfect English. I mean, you have an accent, but…” His voice trails off.
“That’s because my father—”
“Is cuckoo,” Dante interrupts me, swimming up to us, he swirls his finger close to his temple. I splash him.
“I’ve told you, he’s not crazy. Just a little eccentric.” Dante’s never been a fan. My father is a private man and since he homeschooled me and is very strict, many people on the island didn’t take a liking to him. I’ve always been the link between the two worlds. “My father is American. And he was very particular that I speak proper English and French.” He continues to stare at me like he’s trying to figure me out. I’m not a puzzle. If I was, it’d have very few pieces. What you see is what you get. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to learn about the island girl.” I spread my arms out. “There are so many more interesting things to learn about here.”
He opens his mouth to say something but then snaps it shut. Rather, he follows my lead, putting his mask on. The three of us swim around, Dante and I point out sea creatures to the guy. This is our normal routine, but with a group of tourists. It’s weird having one person.
As the day unfolds, I thought the more I was around him, I’d see past the gorgeous body to the narcissist man who thinks he’s a god, which usually diffuses any attraction I’m having. Don’t get me wrong, the man has an ego the size of this island, but he seems like a genuinely likable man. And his quick glances are getting harder to ignore. To his credit, he hasn’t made an advance. Most men that want something would have accidentally brushed up against my breasts, or made some remark about how beautiful I am, or extend an invitation asking if I’d like to join them for cocktails later.
Usually after their wife goes to bed.
I’ve never understood the culture of people coming to the island to celebrate marriage, yet the stories I could tell about infidelity are astounding. The guilt in my heart for partaking in such an abomination is my punishment. I’ve worked hard to prove that I’m not that person anymore. No matter how badly I wish to leave this island, it won’t be for a man.
Especially not the one watching me from across the boat.
When the boat pulls into the hotel dock, relief fills my lungs. I need to keep as far away from him as possible.
“I hope you enjoy the rest of your vacation, Ryker,” I say to him as he passes me on the dock while I wait for Dante to check in with the hotel excursion desk.
“You’re wrong.” He throws his towel over his shoulder and picks up his bag.
Our eyes meet when he stands and I feel my brows furrow. “About what?”
“I do want to learn about the island girl.” I let out an awkward laugh. And to think I thought he wasn’t like other guys.
“So… what? You can go home and tell all your guy friends you shagged an island girl while your wife was at the hotel getting a massage?” I snort with a shake of my head, knowing his endgame. I tip my head back as I hop into the boat. “Have a nice night, Ryker.”
“You too, Whiskey.”
I freeze in my spot and chance a peek back. His knowing smile sends my heart hammering. With a quick wink, he turns and walks away but stops once again. “Oh, and by the way, I’m not married.”
Chapter Three
Ryker
Whiskey. I chuckle to myself, strolling down the excruciating long walkway to my bungalow. Had I known that my hut was at the end, I might have skipped out on the upgrade.
She looked familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Until she snuck a peek at me and her cheeks reddened from being caught. That’s when it all came back. Seems the island girl has a little voyeuristic side to her. Even a hangover wouldn’t let me forget those eyes. They’re more impressive up close. Amber-colored with a glint of copper when the sun hits them. Reminds me of my drink of choice, whiskey.
The more reason to stay away from her.
So why the hell tell her I was interested? I swipe my room key and walk into the wood hut, dropping my bag on the floor and head straight to the shower.
I’ve been here three days and I’ve broken every rule they gave me. Train. Stay focused. And stay away from women. Fucking Jarod Meyers, this is all his fault.
You were the one who admitted to doing something you didn’t do, my subconscious reminds me. I squeeze the bridge of my nose. I’m not sure who I’m more upset with, myself or Meyers. He’s a talented kid and deserves another chance.
Despite my friends assuming I’m being self-destructive because Bryn broke it off, I wasn’t. That relationship happened six months ago. I’m over it. Bryn’s got a boatful of secrets I didn’t need tipping over into my world. She didn’t trust me enough to tell me what she was hiding, we wouldn’t have worked, anyway. I don’t have time for that bullshit. She was a risk to my career.
I let out a bitter chuckle. Yet, here I am putting my career in danger all by myself. Why did I feel giving him a chance at my expense was a good idea? I pick up my phone to call Coach, but throw it back down on the table. I’m in the middle of the Pacific, banished to this island. If they need to talk, they know my number. Irritated with my situation again, I pour a shot of whiskey and down it before walking out the door.
* * *
