Page 35 of Shielding Instinct

As Tamika always said, a body in motion tends to stay in motion, so as long as her shoes stayed on and her body had a destination, Petra could keep going and doing.

Burnout was part and parcel of what Petra had to navigate on the daily.

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel like she needed to shut down despite all the crazy that had happened since yesterday—not the least of which was meeting one Michael George Kesse and having her world—and her libido – flipped upside down by the touch of his fingertips, his kiss.

That man couldkiss.

What would it be like to have his hands slide over her naked skin? What would he murmur to her as they made love?

She was determined to find out. That very night.

Dinner and sex.

Maybe reverse the order if she couldn’t stand the ache any longer.

And over dinner that night, Petra wanted a story to tell. Something funny. Something light. Something very different from the death’s doorstep shit that had gone down.

Sliding her sunglasses in place, Petra went outside to wait for the tidepool tour guide to show up.

There was one guy out there who looked like he was rounding folks up, but his T-shirt was about the Caribbean Swim Club. Just in case, she asked. “Breezy Tours?”

“You’re going to the tidal pool?” The guy might be seventeen at most.

“I am.”

“They usually run a little late. I’m Mitch. I take folks horseback riding on a trail, then out to the shore.” He pointed at his T-shirt. “We usually get people out in the water, swimming with the horses. It’s a great time.”

“Usually, but not today?” The wind whipped the skirt of Petra’s sundress.

“Can’t swim them this time of year on account of the Christmas Winds.”

Petra looked at the tree canopies shaking like a cancan dancer’s skirt.

“The winds, especially out on the open water, can make for some difficult currents. I don’t personally like snorkeling in this. The waves can go over the snorkel, and it’s not a great experience. You never know if you’ll be sucking in air or water.”

“I can imagine.”

“We’re not going to risk swimming the horses through the surf until the winds die down in early January or so.”

“Of course not.” Petra caught at the strands of hair that brushed across her face—tickling her skin—lighting her nerves on fire. She pushed them back behind her ears for a moment’s respite. “But you can still ride the horses on the sand part of the beach? I would enjoy trying that. Do you have a card or something?” She stepped closer to him.

“Brochure?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled one out.

“That will do. Thank you.” She looked it over before shoving it in the side pocket of her day pack. “I’ll reach out and see if you have spaces open tomorrow. I was going snorkeling off Buck’s Island. I wanted to see the underwater park, but I don’t want to get waterboarded.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Mitch glanced over his shoulder as a topless vehicle pulled in. “That’s you,” he said with a hitch of his thumb. “About Buck’s island snorkeling, not to bite into anyone’s business, but the last few days, the people who went out couldn’t follow the underwater park trail. They had to hold onto life rings and hang out by the boat because Captain Bill wasn’t sure they were strong enough swimmers not to get pulled out to sea. And Captain Bill and his crew couldn’t keep their eye on all of them at once.

“These Christmas Winds—” Petra watched a family move through the automatic doors—father, mother, three towheaded children dressed in outfits that screamed, “Mom’s getting ready for a social media photo shoot.” She forced herself to look at Mitch. “These Christmas Winds, will they have any impact on the tidal pool?”

“Johnson family of five!”

Petra pulled her gaze around to find a man equally as young as Mitch, maybe still in high school. He stood in his open vehicle with a welcoming grin. “We have to divide up the Johnson family. I’m Jumping Beans. You can call me Beans. I can take three children in the back and one adult in the passenger seat. My man, Lucky—” Beans looked over his shoulder, then lifted an arm to wave at his friend who was pulling up behind. Beans pointed to the second vehicle. “Lucky will take the other Johnson parent and Miss Armstrong.” He shot a look at Petra. “You Miss Armstrong?”

Petra stepped forward. “That’s me.” She finger-waved to Mitch. “Hope things work out for tomorrow.” And she stepped up.

It seemed that the Johnson family didn’t need to discuss who would be the supervising parent and who would enjoy some alone time. The mother was loading their bags into the back of the open vehicle with all three kids at her side.

Watching her put bag after bag in the cargo area, Petra wondered if there was something she should have packed but didn’t. She’d applied sunscreen and wore a bathing suit under her sundress and sunglasses. A towel and water bottle were in the backpack she had slung over her shoulders. That should be enough to keep her comfortable. It was only a three-hour tour. Forty-five minutes out, a short but slow section moving along the cliff to the pools, an hour to explore, and then reverse back here to the hotel.

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