"The eternal struggle," she agreed.
Their gazes met, and for a breathless moment, Lily felt the strange sensation of being truly seen—not as the bubbly influencer or the pretty face, but as the complicated, messy person beneath the curated exterior.
The tide chose that moment to surge higher, sending a splash of seawater over both of them.
Lily squealed at the sudden cold, and Alex laughed—a genuine sound that transformed his entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes and softening the hard line of his jaw.
Oh,Lily thought, watching droplets trace paths down his chest.That's dangerous.
Because suddenly, she wanted to hear that laugh again. And again. She wanted to be the cause of it.
And that desire had nothing to do with content creation or passing the time until rescue.
"We should head back." Alex packed up his equipment. "Tide's coming in, and I've got samples to process."
"Right." Lily stood, brushing sand from her legs. "Back to research for you and staring at walls for me."
"You could help, if you want." The words seemed to surprise even him. "With the samples, I mean. Nothing complicated. Just sorting and labeling."
"Dr. Carmichael." Lily gasped with exaggerated shock. "Are you inviting me to participate in your sacred scientific rituals? I'm honored. Truly."
"Never mind," he muttered, shouldering his pack.
"No, no, I accept." She fell into step beside him. "It'll look great on my resume. 'Research Assistant to Grumpy-But-Surprisingly-Ripped Marine Biologist.'"
"I'm already regretting this."
But Lily caught the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
As they walked back toward the cabin, shoulders occasionally brushing, Lily found herself wondering if being stranded might not be the disaster she'd initially thought.
In fact, she was beginning to think it might be the most interesting thing that had happened to her in years.
Chapter Six
Alex had a problem.
The problem was five-foot-six with wild brown curls, an inexhaustible supply of pink bikinis, and an alarming tendency to make him smile when he wasn't paying attention.
He stood in the cabin's small kitchen at dawn, watching the coffee drip with the intensity of a man hoping caffeine might restore his sanity. Outside, the first blush of sunrise painted the sky in shades of peach and gold. Inside, Lily was still asleep on the couch, one arm flung over her head, her breathing soft and even.
He should not be noticing her breathing.
He should not be noticing the way the early light caught the freckles scattered across her nose, or howher lips parted slightly in sleep, or the fact that her tank top had ridden up to reveal a strip of tanned stomach that made his mouth go dry.
Get it together, Carmichael.
Today's plan was simple: check on the sea turtle nesting site on the eastern shore. He'd been monitoring it since his arrival, tracking the eggs he'd discovered during his first week. If his calculations were correct, they were approaching the window for hatching.
It was important work. Vital, even. The kind of work that required focus and solitude and absolutely zero distractions in the form of chatty influencers with infectious laughs.
He should go alone.
That was the logical choice. The smart choice.
And yet.
The past few days had been... different. Yesterday at the tide pools, Lily had proven herself surprisingly capable. She'd followed instructions, asked intelligent questions, and shown genuine interest in his research beyond just filming opportunities. She'd even made him laugh—actually laugh—with her observation about hermit crabs having commitment issues.
