“That’s what they all say,” Avah calls back, before mumbling, “until someone loses a limb,” under her breath.
I place my elbows on my knees and lean closer to Avah. “If a shark comes for you, I’ll create a diversion.”
“With what?” she counters. “Your sparkling personality?”
“With my body,” I answer, once again fighting a smile at her seemingly bottomless sass. “I’m bigger, which makes me a more appealing target.”
Her eyes drop to my chest, and I don’t miss the flash of heat in them. Maybe I’m not the only one catching unexpected feelings. “Hate to break it to you, but sharks go for fat because they need the energy.” She pretends to give me a pitying look. “You’re all gristle. They’d spit you out.”
I know she’s joking, and yet some deeply juvenile part of my brain decides this is the moment to shift so my arm flexes. “They’d want me.”
She lowers her tortoiseshell glasses to the bridge of her nose. “Did you just flex at me?”
I hear Rai clear his throat behind us. Pretty sure that was covering a laugh.
“No.”
“You absolutely did. You flexed to prove you’re a worthy snack.”
“I offered to throw myself between you and a predator. That’s chivalrous as fuck.”
She snorts. “And you wonder why you’re single.”
“I don’t wonder. I know exactly why.”
Her lips quirk. “A stunning display of self-awareness.”
“One of my many endearing qualities.”
“So many,” she agrees with exaggerated sarcasm.
Damn my mouth goes dry at the way hers forms that little ‘o’. Nope, not going there. This woman is likely going to go back to hating me once we return to real life. And she’s just dumped her dick fiancé. She doesn’t need or want my dick anywhere near her.
The funny thing is, despite my physical reaction to her, I don’t really care that nothing can happen between us. I’m having a way better time than I was before I found her on the beach. Way more fun than I’ve had in a long time doing anything, to be honest.
The boat slows as we reach the snorkeling spot, and Antonia helps us with our gear. I’ve done this before—exclusive experiences in the Maldives, private dives at the Great Barrier Reef—but I’ve never enjoyed the prep work quite as much as I do watching Avah get ready.
She peers over the edge of the pontoon at the water, her knuckles white where she’s gripping the railing.
“So...how deep is it here?”
“Maybe ten feet over the reef,” Antonia says. “But you can stand in some places.”
“What about a current?”
“The lagoon is calm, almost like a bathtub.”
She nods, but doesn’t move to put on her mask. I realize with a start that she’s actually nervous.
“Have you snorkeled before?” I ask.
“I’ve seen it done. On YouTube.”
Antonia, reading the situation with practiced ease, holds up a bright orange life vest. “You can wear this if you want to float, no problem. Only thing is you won’t be able to dive down to see the coral up close.”
Avah looks at the vest, then at me. “Are you wearing one?”
“If you want me to.”
