I shrug. “Is that where you came from?”
“From—They didn’t tell you—” The man frowns. “You don’t know who—”
“Don’t worry about that. They made me sign one of those damn nondisclosure documents. I mean”—I wave an arm over the side of the boat—“look at where we are. Who the hell am I going to tell?”
The man sighs. “Yeah.” He doesn’t look happy about it, and I can’t figure out why.
“You done this long?” I ask, trying to fix my blunder.
“Done what?”
I shrug, searching for words. “The thing... you’re doing. Here. With the guy you came with.”
“The guy?” The man laughs, more of his features visible as he turns to look out over the water. “What exactly do you think we’re doing?”
“Your job. Protecting him or... whatever. He’s someone famous. Or powerful. That’s why they made me sign the NDA, right? So that I can’t tell anyone I saw him nearly fall out of a plane?”
The man laughs again, but it’s more genuine this time, less like he’s laughing at me.
“Yeah, we all pretend not to notice his antics. Better for career longevity. He can be a bit... feisty.”
“I’m Jack.” I hold out a hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, the other man shakes it.
“David. Nice to meet you.”
“You go by David or Dave?”
He tilts his head for a minute, like he has to think about it, but he finally takes a sip of his coffee and says, “David.”
“And your boss’s name? Or am I really supposed to call him Mr. Morgan? Fishing boats usually aren’t that formal.” I’d keep his real name to myself, but I’m a little curious now. And really, it’s not like I have anything of value Harper can sue me for.
But David shakes his head. “Sorry. I’m not at liberty to say.”
Fair enough. Not that knowing his name would have helped. We clearly travel in very different circles. With my luck, David would tell me who his boss is, and I would only be able to give him that vague “ooh” people use when they don’t actually know what’s going on but are too embarrassed to say anything else. No point in looking like an uncultured hick before the day has fully started.
Especially since, as the sun rises up over the edge of the ocean and sparkles between the trees, the morning light reflects off David’s face, and with every passing minute, it becomes clear he is a good-looking man. We mostly watch the water, drinking our coffee, but it gives me an excuse to examine him quietly. His dark hair with its shaved sides has lost some of its carelessness from the day before, combed down now into soft waves that glow with a bit of red in the sun. His skin is tanned, which makes sense if he’s from California. His nose is straight, his lips wide. His eyes are dark, but the brown holds a warmth that makes me think there’ll be more color to them when the light is brighter.
And when did I start swooning over someone’s eyes? Though maybe crushing on a VI-VIP’s bodyguard is less against the rules? He’s only sort of a guest. When you look at it from a certain way, we’re both basically staff. Our paychecks come from different bank accounts, but David’s not here because he chose to be any more than I did.
He turns like he can feel me staring. “Something wrong?”
I take a risk and hold his gaze, and he doesn’t blink.
I say, “No. Been a while since I’ve done this.”
“This?”
Stared at a hot man and wondered what his stubble would feel like rasping over my skin. I chicken out and go back to the horizon. “Watched the sunrise.”
“You do them well here.”
“That we do.”
I go back inside and pour us both more coffee. It’s still early, but I’m being hospitable, and that’s what I’m here to do, right?
“Come on,” I say, and he doesn’t ask any questions, instead following me up to the flybridge. He manages the ladder pretty well, even with the mug in his hand.
From here, ten or so feet off the deck, we can see even farther, and for the first time since the plane dropped me off here, I’m proud to have something to share. We turn the seats so we can face the stern and out to the ocean. A gull sails low along the water, wings curved to hold itself steady as it looks for a meal.
