“Are you a lifeguard or something?” I ask, suddenly feeling hot all over. I must be suffering from sunstroke.
“Me? Fuck no.” His accent makes it sound more like faaaack. Australian for sure. I feel it in my ovaries. I suddenly remember how much of my skin is on display and feel a full body flush take over.
His eyes are warm and brown, though they flash with alarm when he sees the turtle. He frowns so severely you’d think I wrapped it in the net myself. If he notices how much of my ass is showing, he gracefully doesn’t react. I shuffle to the side as the other man crowds closer.
“Knife?” the Australian barks in a deep, gravelly voice that I feel to my core. The other man hands him a pocketknife and he begins cutting the turtle free.
“I just found him like this.” My voice is shaky as I drop to my knees for a closer look. The blonde man cuts the netting and gently releases one of its flippers. “Will he be okay?”
“You did the right thing calling for help,” the other man says. His accent has something of a lilt to it as well, but his voice is muchkinder. “I’m Mike and this is Steven. We’re from the Gili Telu Sanctuary and dive shop.”
Mike points to the emblem on his blue shirt which I realize is a uniform. His name is embroidered under a green turtle. Cute.
He’s friendly, but he seems to be trying to look anywhere but directly at me. I can’t blame him. I’m all boobs and butt, flitting around them unhelpfully. I cross my arms over my chest, but I can’t just walk away, and I can’t stop watching Steven’s capable fingers, gently but efficiently untangling his patient until Mike adds, “He’s in great hands.”
I wrench my gaze away guiltily as if he can read my dirty thoughts. I glance back toward my towel and the hastily abandoned book as a flush creeps up my throat.
“What’s that you’re reading?” Mike asks, following my eyes and making an attempt at polite conversation.
Between the clinch cover, my barely-there bathing suit, and the effect the burly Aussie is having on me, I’m hot and bothered. My thighs rub together instinctively. Their presence is overwhelming.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Historical,” I mumble. “Does this happen a lot?” I gesture toward the turtle, desperate for a change of subject.
“It’s rare for turtles to come onto the beach other than for nesting, but we’ve dealt with ghost gear before. We’re not a huge facility, but we have the resources to care for minor injuries. Come by later, you can take a tour of the museum and maybe come check on him.”
“Ghost gear? Is it a boy? How do you know?” I ask. I have a tendency to ask too many questions, but my heart is still racingwith adrenaline and Mike has a soothing way of speaking, like a Kindergarten teacher.
He takes the pieces of netting and fishing line as Steven hands them over. “This is ghost gear. Fishing equipment that’s been abandoned in the sea.”
I thought Steven might be ignoring my rambling, but his eyes finally flick toward mine as he points to the turtle’s backside.
“Males have longer and thicker tails. There’s plenty of info back at the center.” It’s practically a grunt. When he turns toward Mike, I feel the dismissal like a wall of ice between us and stubborn indignation roars to life inside me. “I think he might’ve swallowed a hook. We should get him under better light.”
In seconds, the men have the big sea turtle lifted between them and hurry toward the dive shop, sand flying from their flip flops like two heroic Coast Guard officers.
“Cheers!” Mike calls back, but they don’t give me a second look. I watch them go, distracted by the sunlight glistening off Steven’s muscles and his long hair flying back in the wind. Jerk.
If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s people who don’t like me. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, but the turtle rescue obviously takes priority. I want to know what happens next, and try to crack the shell of the rude, blunt Aussie. I sense the promise of a distraction—a potential new experience to add to the list.
I can hear Grandma Frannie over my shoulder, begging me to follow my instincts and the sandy footsteps of the sexy sea turtle saviors. No more meditating or mindless relaxing for me. I wrap the towel around my waist to hide my nakedness and follow the siren call of destiny.
Chapter 2
Junie
But destiny is closed until 10 AM. The boat has left the dock and Steven and Mike disappeared with the turtle. There’s no sign of anyone else around, so I shuffle back through the sand to our luxury island shack to see if Eva is awake yet.
She’s just stirring when I return, so I start the coffee maker and bite my tongue as a peace offering. Eva loves slow, quiet mornings. She takes at least an hour to fully wake up and feel like herself, and it has been testing every limit of my excitable nerves all trip.
I’m bursting with the need to tell her what happened. I’m so full of thoughts of turtles and sexy Australians that I completely forget about my less-than modest swimming attire.
“Whoa! Way to say good morning with a full moon!”
I turn toward her, coffee cup in hand. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I press my lips together in a firm line, confident that that will close the subject.
She takes the drink gratefully then shoos me with her hand. “Back up, take a spin. You look incredible!”
I sigh, feeling my face burn with embarrassment, but thankful for the compliment after humiliating myself in front of Steven and Mike.
