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“You still owe me a coconut, you know.”
He snorts. “I’ll make it my life’s purpose.” Lifting his free hand, he points. In the distance is an island. “There,” he says, kissing her brow.
When the catamaran docks, they all disembark and drop their packs and belongings on the sand. The manmade island is full of lush tropical vegetation and white sand. A cheesy wooden sign that readsTHE BEACH IS CALLINGhas been hammered into the ground. Beach chairs, umbrellas, and coolers of water and beer line the sand in rows.
Brad, their guide, steps up and hands out maps and beers to each one of them. In each beer’s mouth is an umbrella. “All right, everyone,” Brad says, enthusiastically clapping his hands. His head piece fills with feedback.
Ash winces.
“We have some fun excursions planned for today,” he continues. “Take a look at your beer bottle. Anyone with a purple umbrella is going bird-watching with Amanda. Yellow, you’ll be with me, and I’ll be showcasing the botany of the island.”
Ash clutches Nathaniel’s arm. Her umbrella is purple; Nathaniel’s yellow. Panic lances through her stomach. “Wait, what the fuck?”
It’s worse than she thought. They’re being split up. Into groups. Into activities. Into group activities.
Nathaniel’s gloomy expression matches hers.
Into his ear, she whispers, “Can that tsunami take me now?”
He catches her gaze for a moment, that lush mouth of his fighting a smile, and a warm rush of familiarity passes between them.
“Or better yet,” Ash replies, “let it take Brad.”
That garners a dirty look from the woman to her right. She holds a finger to her lips, and Ash rolls her eyes.
Brad lifts his hands in the air. “And when we return, we’ll have an island lunch. Coconut shrimp. Rice and beans. Ice cold beer.”
Cheers go up in the group.
“Fuck this,” Nathaniel growls when Brad launches into islanddos anddon’ts. He grabs a towel from the sand. Snags her hand. “I’m not spending this day without you. C’mon. You want a coconut. Let’s go look.”
A thrill of adrenaline zips through her. He’s right. They only have two days left. And spending the majority of this one without Nathaniel is absolutely not happening.
“Wait. My pack,” she hisses. Sneaking forward, keeping low in the crowd, Ash grabs her pack from the jumble of bags piled on the sand.
Then, together, they melt into the tropical jungle. The sun’s heat fades away beneath the canopy of trees. Nathaniel, map in his hands, leads them up wet, winding paths. Thirty minutes into their great escape, they hear it. The rush of water.
Hand in hand, they cross a small stream. When they push through dangling vines and palm fronds, numerous lagoons and a waterfall greet them.
With a laugh, Ash claps her hands. “Magellan would be proud.”
Nathaniel tears off his shirt, pulling a small hum of approval from Ash.
“And I am now horny.”
“Do I need to fight Magellan?” Nathaniel asks, grinning. “For history’s sake.”
Smiling, she surveys the beauty of the lagoon. Even with ample shade, it’s hot, making the water that much more tempting.
“You want to swim?” he asks.
Ash nods, slips off her cut-offs. “Mm-hmm.” She sticks her shorts and her insulin pen beneath her pack to keep them out of the sun.
“Here.” Nathaniel crouches and unzips his bag. He brings out a packet of clear adhesive patches and stands. “Let’s try this for your sensor. It should keep the water out so it doesn’t get loose.”
She bites her lip, stares up at him wordlessly as her heart swells. Every little thing he does stuns her. If she could absorb his handsome face, his kind heart into her bones, she would.
Nathaniel frowns in doctor-like concentration as he adjusts the patch on her arm. Gently, he smooths his fingers over the material to help it adhere.
