“Because…”
His tan body with just the right amount of hair running from his chest down to his navel trumped my words. My gaze roamed over a vast expanse of torso and muscular shoulders, then down his defined abs. Unashamed, I allowed my eyes to follow his happy trail down before it was no longer visible. Tina was thousands of miles away from me, but I could hear her making a drooling noise and felt her elbow jab into my ribs as if she were standing next to me right now.
“You don’t have a shirt on,” I said, a little breathless.
He glanced down at his body. “Good observation.”
Swallowing, I blinked and finally snapped out of my awe haze. I forcefully dragged my eyes away from his body. My hand went to my head to smooth my wet hair. I looked like crap, especially wearing way-too-big-for-me clothes. I wished I had some lip gloss and mascara. Tina may have been wrong about a lot of things: signing us up for the Cockology conference (it wasnotabout cocktails—I had to bleach my eyes after), a surprise sleepover at an ophidiarium (her attempt to break my fear of snakes), the Fish Fling (it hurts when a fish hits you in the face). But her suggestion to do the full-body laser treatment was coming in handy.
Hunter swiped his T-shirt off the branch and pulled it on, the lean muscle of his stomach tensing with the movement. “Is this better?” He smiled, and dimples appeared on his cheeks. Dimples? He had freaking dimples. Everything inside me fluttered as if I were back in ninth grade, with acne-pocked skin and teeth caged in braces, and a popular kid asked me to dance.
I smoothed my hair back again, then gestured to my clothes. “I look terrible in these.”
“You look beautiful.”
He was trying to be polite and lift my spirits, but my insides turned to mush anyway. For a split second, I wished we could have met in the Speakeasy bar near my house, and I wore something sexier, and smelled better, too.
Off the ground, Hunter picked up two different running shoes and a pair of mismatched flip-flops and placed them by my bare feet. “I hope they’ll fit.”
One purple Nike shoe, one green and yellow sneaker, a left flip-flop with a single green jewel, and a right one with a golden Tory Burch buckle.
“I always wanted to try this brand.” I wiggled my toes into the flip-flops. “Thanks. They fit.” I moved my wet hair off my shoulders, wishing I had something to tie it up. It was early in the morning, and the air was already so humid and hot. Or maybe it was Hunter.
Hunter’s hand slipped into his side pocket and pulled out two hair ties. “They wash up too sometimes.”
“You’re the best.” I twisted a bun on my head and stretched the hair tie over it. The band broke, flying in some unknown direction. “Oops.” I tried the next one, and it held together.
Since I was in anup shit creek without a paddlesituation, theif you can’t beat them, join themapproach was the best one for now.
“What else do you have on this island?”
Hunter shrugged. “A lot of really neat spots and a bunch of useless junk.”
“I wouldn’t mind checking it all out.”
Hunter tipped his head for me to follow him to the beach. “You might never want to leave once you explore.”
I scrunched up my face to hide yet another smile (today, they were very persistent). “I doubt that very much, but let’s see if you can prove me wrong.”
ChapterSix
“The beach is a little dirty since the storm,” Hunter explained when we walked out of the shade of the last palm. “I haven’t cleaned it yet, but you can see why I don’t mind calling it home.”
“Oh wow,” I murmured.
Even with lumps of washed-up seaweed, plastic human trash, and driftwood peppered across the white sand, it was out-of-this-world beautiful. The crystal-clear blue water and palm-fringed coast was nothing like I had seen before. It was like what you would see an influencer post with the hashtags #tropicalparadise #nofilter. Unreal beauty, unbelievable tranquility, and unarguably not my home.
My eyes scanned for the bright green bag with my father’s urn, hoping it was among the washed-up litter. It wasn’t.
I took off myfancyflip-flops and moseyed ankle-deep into the water. Turning my attention to the rocky borders, I asked, “Do you think theBloody Marycrashed on those rocks?”
“If it had, more debris would have washed up. I think your sailboat sank a few miles away from here.”
My heart broke for the millionth time at the thought of Bambi being lost somewhere out there. Maybe she caught the life ring or something else from theBloody Mary, and as Hunter had said, a passing boat had picked her up and brought her to safety. Holding on to this hope, I willed myself not to cry. I had to focus on the present moment, on something that was in my control: get acquainted with my island mate and then help him to fix the boat and get the hell out of here.
I walked back to where Hunter sat on the sand next to my shoes, arms resting on his bent knees, and found a spot near him.
“Tell me more about yourself,” I said. “You said your uncle lived here before. Why?”
