Uncle Joe, always easily distracted and never the best of babysitters, had allowed us to go on the boat by ourselves. We were in the middle of the lake in the national park when Kate had stood suddenly, thinking she had seen a fish over the edge. She’d pointed, excited, before losing her balance and had gone in headfirst. I remembered the day with a clarity that only came from being traumatised. I could not remember feeling panicked, at all, because in hindsight I had basically been waiting for this to happen, an inevitability in my mind since Mum’s prophetic remark when Uncle Joe had first uttered the words ‘fishing in a lake’. Without thinking, I had stood on the edge of the boat, completed a safety dive, and then pulled my sister up out of the water. By the time we reached the surface, Aaron had reached us and we were both lifted to safety. Logically, I should have an issue with Kate and not boats, but here we were.
When I saw the boat that was going to take me to the island, my flight instinct kicked in. I verbalised it strongly in my head and out loud.
‘Oh,nope.’
The ‘captain’, who looked to be approximately sixteen, just stared at me. The boat was significantly smaller than any boat taking people anywhere had a right to be. Also, it was wooden.Shouldn’t boats be made from something else these days?I had no idea what said material would be, but it almost certainly should have been significantly sturdier thanwood.
Since laying eyes on the so-called boat, I had not moved an inch from the dock where I was standing, safely on land. My body, whilst not exactly happy with this arrangement, was making it clear to me it was damned well not going to be moving any closer.
In my peripheral vision, I caught a flash of white. When I turned, I saw Nick Northby coming down the dock. He looked as if he was in a film clip, or he was Tom Cruise’s best mate in some action movie; sunglasses on, backpack slid over his shoulder and his random curls flipping haphazardly over his face.
‘Private island?’ he asked, offering me a smile. I could see my somewhat pale reflection in the black of his Ray Bans. He wore a white linen shirt that covered his slim figure, and his legs were clad in pink floral boardies that clung to his thighs. I could not imagine another man I knew pulling off those shorts, but this guy, well, the man was beautiful.
‘Yes.’ I was annoyed my voice sounded a little shaky. I raised an eyebrow above my sunglasses. ‘I have a pushy private valet.’
‘Me too,’ he said, grinning. ‘He’s annoying as fuck.’
I smirked.
He climbed on the boat so effortlessly that my brain could not compute how he had achieved it. My feet, meanwhile, had not budged an inch.
He turned when I didn’t follow him, dropping his backpack and leaning over the side, offering me a large hand, an amused expression gracing his handsome face.
‘I don’t like boats. I know it’s irrational, or maybe it’s rational because it could sink. I have a little girl. I’d rather not die.’ I swallowed and pointed an accusing finger at the captain. ‘This guy doesn’t look old enough to work at McDonald’s. And this boat looks like the SSMinnow.’
He laughed at theGilligan’s Islandreference, which I appreciated, before he said, ‘Everyone is afraid of something, Abbey. I’ll be here. I’ll look after you.’
I think if someone else had said that to me, I might have thought it was arrogant, a little presumptuous, but on him it came off as calm, common sense. It was just a rendition of Grandma Iris’sStop being feeble, Abbey, and before I knew it my clammy hand stretched out, grabbing his dry, cool one.
He pulled me gently into the boat, taking my bag off me with the hand I wasn’t clinging to, placing it gently beside his backpack. He guided me to a standing position near the rear of the boat where there was a waist-height edge, placed my hips against the barrier, and then wrapped his body behind me. A strong arm came around my waist, allowing me to grip the railing with a white-knuckled hold, but not before I had run my hand down the strength of his forearms.
As the boat chugged away from the dock, he removed my hat, so it didn’t fly away, handing it to one of the boat crew, then he popped his chin over my shoulder. ‘See, I have you. I promise I won’t let go.’
That sounded, frankly, heavenly, and I remained (tensely) in his arms for the brief journey to the island. Keeping his word, he did not move and instead kept up a steady stream of conversation, pointing out landmarks and distant resorts.
‘Do you have a swimsuit on under that?’ he asked when the boat had stopped.
I nodded.
‘All right, let’s get you undressed. We need to jump into the water and walk the rest of the way. Okay? These guys will bring over our bags and our lunch on the dinghy.’
I looked at him with terrified acceptance.
‘At least you get to leave the boat.’ He shrugged and smiled.
Good point.I nodded again. I was able to get my shorts down without losing touch with the side railing, but my shirt buttons were a two-handed job, and I could not let go.
He unbuttoned his shirt, folding it neatly into his backpack. Then he grabbed my shorts, folded them, and walked back to me. ‘Do you need help with your shirt?’
I nodded.
He stepped closer to me, toe to toe, before nimbly undoing my buttons. He lifted his eyes to mine as he got to my chest, keeping his hands a polite distance from my boobs. A finger grazed over my necklace, though, and he studied it while I studied him.
That rocky-riverbed colour of his eyes was so light today they were bordering grey-green.
Underneath my shirt was my bikini, a pair of high briefs and a crop top in a burgundy, which my sister told me flattered pale skin. His eyes lingered briefly, and I saw him swallow.
‘Do you have sunscreen on?’ he asked.
