“I managed my air pretty well, I think,” I shot back. “Good thing you didn’t charge us by the minute. I’d have to trade you the SUV to settle up.”
“We could work out a payment plan.” Eli turned to Harper. “Seriously, though, you did great. No panic, no flailing. Almost like you knew what you were doing.”
“Thanks to you,” she said, her eyes warm. “And you didn’t even need to rename the dive boat.”
Jules leaned in and grabbed a cookie. “That sounds like a story.”
Harper laughed, a sound I didn’t hear nearly enough from her. “Eli called it theHMS Flailduring a refresher session I had a few years ago. Nice, right?”
Our interaction caused a sense of belonging to wash over me. Eli’s jokes, Jules’s steady presence, Harper fitting so well into the group—it felt solid. But beneath the surface-level ease, Eli’s attention wasn’t casual. He had a way of looking that saw everything, especially the things you tried to hide.
“That reef never gets old.” Harper leaned back, her shoulder brushing mine. “Every time I think I’ve seen it all, there’s something new. Those little blue fish darting in and out of the staghorn coral today? I could have watched them for hours.”
“They’re a type of chromis,” Eli said. “I still want to take you night diving. Whole different world down there after dark. The parrotfish wrap themselves in mucus cocoons to sleep.”
“That’s… disgusting and fascinating,” Harper said.
“Just like your brother,” Jules added, earning an appreciative laugh from all of us.
Jules passed around the fresh fruit plate while Eli launched into the story of a moray eel encounter I’d heard more than once.
“So there I was, face-to-face with this green moray,” Eli said, gesturing expansively. “Must have been seven feet long if it was an inch. I’m showing the guests the proper viewing distance when this absolute unit of an eel decides today’s the day to inspect every inch of my mask.”
“Funny how that eel grows a foot longer every time you tell this story,” Harper said, reaching for a cookie.
“Artistic license,” Eli replied, unfazed. “Jules, back me up here. You’ve seen that moray at Blue Dropoff. It’s enormous, right?”
Jules looked up from where she was drying her dive computer with a microfiber cloth. “I’ve seen it, yes.” Her lips curved in the slightest hint of a smile. “Though I don’t recall it attempting to remove your mask with its teeth like you claimed last time.”
“Details.” Eli waved dismissively. “Chase, tell them about that tiger shark that buzzed you last year.”
“It was a nurse shark, and it was sleeping under a ledge until you decided to wake it up,” I corrected, grinning at the memory. “Which is very different from your version, where it was circling me like I was chum.”
Harper laughed, the sound carrying across the water. “Did anyone spot that massive grouper lurking under the coral overhang? I swear it was watching us like we were the exhibit and it was the tourist.”
“Good eye.” Eli nodded approvingly. “That’s Old Grumpy. He’s been hanging around that spot for at least three years. Territorial as hell but makes for a great landmark.”
The conversation flowed, shifting to the resort’s renovations.
“What’s the timeline for the bungalows?” Eli asked, leaning back with his elbows resting on the tank holders.
Harper took a sip of her drink. “Painting the interiors this month. The renderings look incredible. Chase’s design keeps the classic Keys feel but with all the contemporary amenities our guests expect. The indoor-outdoor showers are going to be a major selling point.”
“Thanks to Austin’s input, the bungalows are coming along very nicely,” I added. “And the pool cabanas are on schedule to be finished soon.”
“Those bungalows are going to look great,” Jules said, reaching for some fresh fruit. Her tone shifted, more serious. “But just looking ahead… cash flow for the Q3 draw on the loan, when we hit the heavy interior finishes for the bungalows, is going to require really tight management of the operational budget. We planned for this quarter’s negative, obviously, but there’s less wiggle room than I’d like moving into the next phase.”
The words hung in the air, sinking into me like stones. I nodded, trying to keep my response level. “Appreciate the heads-up, Jules. We’re tracking the change orders closely. Hopefully, we don’t hit any major delays.”
My post-dive relaxation was quickly replaced by the tight knot of financial pressure. We’d planned for this—everything charted, every risk calculated—but hearing it out loud shook me. Latitudes needed the project to stay on course. The other projects I’d landed, like the Franson guesthouse, would help the bottom line, but Siesta Sunset would either make or break me.
Eli and Jules shifted, momentarily distracted. Eli pointed out a distant boat, and Jules turned around to look.It created a brief window of privacy, just enough for Harper and me to face each other more directly.
Her eyes found mine, her expression softening. Even with her hair wet and tangled, she looked beautiful, relaxed in a way I rarely saw her at the resort. She traced a finger along the edge of the bench between us.
“God, I’ve missed this,” she said quietly. “Being out on the water. Diving. It’s like… coming home to a place you forgot you needed. Are you enjoying yourself?”
I held her gaze, enjoying the rocking of the boat beneath us, the salt drying on my skin, the warmth of her beside me. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Not just the diving. Being here. With you.”
