Page 11 of Lost At Sea With A Billionaire

“Sorry,” he muttered, his touch surprisingly soft for such large hands.“Almost done.”

Once clean, he applied a butterfly bandage, sealing the edges of the wound together.

“Where’d you learn first aid?”I asked as he packed up the supplies.

“Military school,” he replied.“Then refreshers every year for wilderness expeditions.My company sponsors them.”

I looked at him with new curiosity.“You never mentioned military school.”

“There’s a lot we haven’t had time to mention, considering we’ve only known each other for a week.”He smirked and closed the first aid kit with a decisive snap.“How do you know so much about survival situations?”

“My dad was military.He taught me everything he knew.”I gazed out at the partially submerged yacht.“I never thought I’d need those skills like this.”

Jonathan followed my gaze.“We need to make a plan.Shelter, fire, a signal for rescue.”

“Food and water,” I added.“I don’t know how long what we salvaged will last.”

“One problem at a time.”He stood, surveying the tree line behind us.“First, we need somewhere to sleep that isn’t exposed to the elements.”

I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to send me back down.“I can help with that.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow.“You sure?”

“Positive.”I squared my shoulders, determination replacing my fear.“I’m not some helpless chef who can only function in a kitchen.”

A genuine smile spread across his face.“I never thought you were.”

We stood on the beach, the reality of our situation settling around us like the sand beneath our feet.There was no crew, luxury, or certainty of rescue—just us, a pile of salvaged supplies, and whatever skills we possessed.

“Let’s get to work,” I said, picking up my knife roll from our supplies.“We’ve got a long day ahead.”

Chapter4

Jonathan

The makeshift shelter offered minimal protection from the elements, but it would have to do for now.I’d gathered enough palm fronds and branches to create a roof that wouldn’t collapse with the first rainfall.Janet had been right about using the yacht’s salvaged tarp as additional waterproofing.Her practicality impressed me, though I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Her resilience was why I’d requested her specifically for this voyage.When I saw her on that ridiculous cooking show, battling the elements while creating gourmet meals over an open flame, I knew she possessed something rare—not just talent but determination and an unwillingness to compromise regardless of the circumstances.

“Your shelter-building skills aren’t half bad,” Janet said, ducking under the palm frond roof to join me.She handed me a bottle of water we’d salvaged from the yacht.“For a pharmaceutical executive.”

I accepted the bottle, my fingers brushing against hers.“Military school has its advantages.”

“So that’s where you learned to cook, too?”

“Cook is a generous description of what they taught us.”I took a swig from the bottle.“More like learning which field rations were least likely to make you sick.”

Janet settled beside me, close enough that I could smell the saltwater in her hair.The cut on her forehead had scabbed over, but the bruise beneath it had darkened to a deep purple against her brown skin.

“Why did you ask for me specifically?”she asked suddenly.

My hand stilled mid-air.“What?”

“You said other chefs applied for the yacht, but you chose me.Why?”

I considered deflecting but decided against it.There was no point in pretensions now.“I saw you on ‘Extreme Chef.’The episode where the rainstorm flooded your cooking station.”

“And you thought I’d look good in a chef’s jacket on your yacht?”Her tone held a sharpness I hadn’t heard before.

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