“A few weeks ago, they were.” I shrug, but Mike knows better. “They’re fine,” I admit.
“You always say that just as they’re about to leave. Have you looked through any of the applications for new assistant instructors?”
I groan. “Is this just an excuse to grill me? I’d rather be on the boat with guests.”
“Yeah right,” Mike scoffs. “Say that again and I’ll schedule you on the next try dive.”
Making banter with tourists who have never touched a tank is my actual nightmare. I choose to let my silence do the talking.
Jimmy’s right front flipper has some pretty severe damage, but it doesn’t look like it reached the bone; if it had, we’d have to reach out to a bigger sanctuary with better facilities. Hopefully he’ll recover with just some antibiotics and time. He’s lucky.
He blinks his eyes slowly. “Almost done, big guy.” I move my hands out of the way so that Mike can snap a picture.
“Let me know if he comes up on the database,” I say, snapping the latex gloves off my hands. It’s rare to see adult male turtles on land and I’m curious if he’s been spotted near here before. “I’ll send a volunteer to help clean up.”
“Terima kasih.” He nods in thanks. I’ve picked up some Indonesian phrases here and there, but Mike’s vocabulary is way more impressive after growing up in Bali with his Aussie parents. That’s why he’s in charge of education and outreach and I do the dirty grunt work. Well, one of the reasons.
I wipe my hands clean on a towel as I push through the double doors and into the cool relief of the small museum. It’s the only air-conditioned room in the whole place, and only when we have guests.
Sure enough, Victoria, a young English volunteer, appears around the corner.
“Steven, someone is looking for you up front.” She places a small hand on my elbow and falls into step beside me.
I grunt, trying not to encourage her. Victoria is a huge flirt, but I swore off hook ups when I turned thirty last year. The temptation is no longer there.
“She’s very pretty.” Victoria’s eyelashes flutter, dangling the bait. “Should I be jealous?”
“Mike needs some help in the kitchen.” I pull out of her grasp, not feeling the least bit guilty for throwing him to the shark. Mike needs some more excitement in his life. Her big doe eyes grow wide and she dashes off to find her favorite prey.
I turn the corner and feel the gods laughing. Tall, blonde and beautiful is standing in the lobby, bare bum covered this time by a white dress, bare feet tapping on the floor and looking like Temptation herself. She seems both impatient and regal as she scans the room. I clear my throat, feeling an involuntary twitch in my shorts.
She whirls around, pouncing on me. One hand reaches out as if to grab my arm, but she thinks better of it and stops short. The hand falls awkwardly down and we both stare at it. Too bad, I might not have minded her touch as much as Victoria’s. I cross my arms over my chest.
“How is he? I haven’t stopped thinking about him all day.”
I’m tempted to pretend not to know who she’s talking about. If I get on her nerves enough, will she run back to her resort?
“Jimmy’s fine.” I clap my hands together and take an awkward step back. I reek of neoprene and mildew on a good day. I don’t want to dirty her hands or her expensive clean clothes by standing too close.
“Jimmy? He has a name? Do you really think he’ll be alright?” She takes another step toward me and I take another one back. Her personal bubble of space is nonexistent and her scent washes over me, jasmine and coconut. Screw this.
“Yeah. As you can see—” I gesture toward the heaps of turtle merch surrounding us, “it’s kind of what we do here. I’ve got to get back.”
A little abrupt, but what does she expect? I’m not a tour guide or a welcoming committee. She should’ve asked for Mike.
“Wait!”
I turn back slowly, trying not to grit my teeth. “I would love to see him. And to learn more about the sanctuary and what I can do to help. Do you take donations? Please! I’m Junie.”
She holds out her hand and I have no choice but to shake it. I grimace as my dry, cracked skin engulfs her slender fingers. She’s soft and unspoiled and it makes my stomach hurt to touch her.
“Steven.”
All my internal alarms are going off. Last year, I might’ve tried my luck at taking her to bed for a night. But that was the old Steven.
As much as I would love to just send her on her way, she’d said the magic word. Mike will kill me if I fumble a donation and turtles like Jimmy count on them. So I suck it up and try to be somewhat pleasant.
I twist my lips into a smile and bow at the waist, waving her into the museum with a flourish. She eyes me warily but walks into the next room, sighing when she feels the aircon. I’ve already seen the curves beneath that clinging cotton, but she somehow looks even more erotic covered up. Her white dress kisses her golden thighs with every step. I start sweating despite the humid air pumping in from the wall unit.
