“Caleb!” Jules shouts, lifting her arm out of the water to wave. For a moment, I think he’s going to ignore her, but when he turns around his face is plastered with the outlandishly charming smile he uses on everyone but me.
“Good morning, Jules.”
“Are you off to do something important?” she asks sweetly, and I swear I see her eyelashes bat. How Jules ever learned to be so charming when I turned into—well, whatever it is I am—is completely lost on me. I guess every family needs a bit of balance.
“Nothing as important as you,” he answers earnestly. “Can I help you with something?”
No—pleaseno. I know exactly what my sister is doing, and I’m just about to protest when Matthew bumps into my kayak and knocks my paddle into the water. I scramble to pick it up before it drifts away.
“Stella’s kayaking solo. Would you mind coming out with her and showing her the reef?”
“Uh,” Caleb’s face turns sour. I can practically see the battle taking place in his head—defy his precious employers, or suffer through three hours of close-contact with his sworn enemy?
“I’m not really?—“
“She’s much more adventurous than the rest of us and I don’t want her to be held back in the kiddie zone,” Jules flashes him one of her million-dollar smiles.
“Seriously, I’m fine,” I say, not wanting to make the situation more uncomfortable for both of us. I’d rather be keelhauled than spend the morning trapped in a kayak with Assy McAssface. “I’m sure Caleb has more important things to do than take me snorkeling.”
“Really, I’d love to,” Caleb lies, “But unfortunately I have to help Jim prep the upper deck.”
“No need, Cap. Remi and I can take care of it,” Jim chirps, cheery as ever. “You’re free as a bird.”
Dammit, Jim. I look down at my knees to avoid giving away my disdain.Please say no. Please say no.
“C’mon, Caleb,” Harry calls to him. “Take a load off and join the expedition! I insist.”
“Well,” Caleb stammers awkwardly, and I don’t think I imagine the glare he shoots at Jim. “In that case, I guess I can’t refuse!”
“Wonderful!” Harry exclaims, clapping his hands together in his trademark shuffle of excitement. But I’m anything but thrilled. After yesterday’s lecture, I’m sure Caleb would rather be just about anywhere than stuck on a kayak with a professional dumpster fire like me. And the feeling isdefinitelymutual.
Golden boy saunters down the stairs and grabs a spare snorkel kit from the deck. Before stepping into the boat, he strips off his button-down with suspicious ease and hands it to Jim. Now Ireallyneed to stare at my knees. Caleb’s body is even more beautiful than I remember. You could practically wash clothes with those abs.
We make brief, cringe-inducing eye contact before I dart my gaze away.
“Ready?” he asks curtly, gesturing for me to move to the front of the kayak. But I stay right where I am. Caleb’s not the boss of me, and I’m not giving him more of an upper hand than he already has.
He reluctantly lowers into the front, flexing the defined muscles of his arms and back, and I realize my mistake. If he’s going to be such a dick, couldn’t he at least be harder to look at?
“Don’t you have any guests you should be yelling at?” I ask as we push off from the swim platform. “Maybe some puppies to drown?”
“Not a one. Funny enough, without you on board things actually run rather smoothly.”
I bristle. I thought New Zealanders were supposed to be friendly. How did I end up with the one bad egg as a snorkel partner?
I lean to the side to get a good look at him, his jaw set resolutely like a GI Joe doll. I try to remember the Caleb I met on the beach—laughing, flirting, charming his way through a makeshift surgery like he’d done it a hundred times. Was all that just a persona he uses to lure in potential one-night stands?
“You’re sending us in circles,” he complains as I accidentally splash him with the paddle. “Here, watch me.”
He slows down his stroke dramatically to demonstrate. I try to copy what he’s doing, but he just sighs loudly.
“It’ll be easier if you just let me do it,” he says.
“And paddle me off to the other side of the island so you can throw me to the sharks? No thanks.”
“I’m trying to help you,” he complains. “You asked me to come along.”
“I absolutely did not!” I protest heatedly. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
