"What do you mean, at night?" The blood drained from her flushed cheeks.
"Sharks are most active during low-light conditions." He shrugged like they were discussing the weather. "Stay out of the water at dusk and dawn. And if you're menstruating."
Her cheeks flared with instant heat. She didn't need a stranger discussing her period. "Thank you for the survival tip," she said in a clipped tone, "but that doesn't solve my immediate problem of needing shelter. You can't possibly expect me to sleep on the beach on an uninhabited island."
"I fail to see how your problem automatically becomes my problem." He folded his arms across his chest. "Besides, you'll be perfectly safe. The only predators on this island are in the water. Stay on land after dark and you'll be fine."
"I will not be fine. Do I look prepared to sleep outside?" She gestured at herself—the carefully curated beach outfit, the manicured nails, the sandals that were shamelessly expensive. "In case it wasn't obvious, I'm not exactly the camping type. I'm more of a 'glamping' girl, you know what I mean?"
His expression didn't change. "You can't stay here. This cabin is a one-bed, one-biologist operation."
She stared, dumbfounded. This asshole was really going to make her sleep in the sand?
Think, Lily. Find the angle.
She drew a deep, cleansing breath and started fresh. "Okay, clearly we've gotten off on the wrong foot here. Let's start over." She extended her hand with her best camera-ready smile. "My name is Lily St. John. I'm a travel influencer. My channel, WanderLily Adventures, has six million followers, and I've been featured on YouTube's ten most up-and-coming travel influencers of the year. Pleased tomeet you."
The man stared at her outstretched hand with open disinterest, his lip curling ever so slightly. "Influencing isn't a real job."
And there it was. The dismissal she'd heard a thousand times before.
You're wasting your education on this nonsense, her father had said when she'd told him about her channel hitting one million subscribers. He hadn't looked up from his phone.Call me when you have a real career.
She'd sent him the Forbes feature six months later. He'd replied with a single text:Interesting.
"Hey, my work is important too," Lily shot back, hands landing on her hips. "I inspire people to explore and appreciate this beautiful planet."
"By traipsing around in a bikini, sipping cocktails, and encouraging unsustainable tourism?" His judgment came swift as a monsoon rain—unfiltered and cold. "Winning the genetic lottery and getting followers to fund your vacation isn't a career. It's people like you destroying natural resources one viral post at a time."
"Excuse me for not being a professional wet blanket!" Lily retorted, matching his frosty demeanor with fiery indignation. The tropical heat suddenly seemed to rise a few degrees as they locked horns.
No one had ever been so mean to her for no reason.
Well. That wasn't entirely true.
Her father had perfected the art of casual cruelty over twenty-four years. The difference was that John St. John delivered his disappointment in measured tones over expensive dinners, his criticism wrapped in phrases likeI'm only saying this because I care about your futureandyou have so much potential, if only you'd apply yourself properly.
At least this guy was honest about his contempt.
She withdrew her hand and glared. "So what do you do, Professor Stick-In-The-Ass, that's so damn important you feel comfortable judging another person's livelihood?"
"My name is Dr. Alex Carmichael. I'm a marine biologist studying this island's unique ecosystem."
"Why?"
"Because this island is home to rare and endemic species that exist nowhere else on Earth."
"And?"
His nostrils flared with annoyance. "And their survival is critical for maintaining global biodiversity. My job is to document these species, understand their ecologicalroles, and develop conservation strategies to protect them."
Wow, what a snooze-fest.But there had to be a way to squeeze this giant lemon into lemonade. "Cool," she said, clapping her hands together. "I have an epic idea—why don't I turn this little misadventure into a learning experience? I could document your research project while I'm waiting for the next boat. Could be fun. Actually, I think I could turn this into something really interesting?—"
"Absolutely not." His glare looked potent enough to scare off sharks.
"Oh, okay, well, maybe I can help with your research? I'm actually quite good with?—"
"Fish don't care about your Instagram feed," he interrupted, clearly finished with the conversation and her. "I've wasted enough time on your issue. I need to get back to my work. Good luck."
