Page 19 of That Birthday in Barbados
“Follow me.” He grabs a few towels and leads the way. I slip off my sandals, my feet sinking into the warm sand. It feels so good, as if I’ve reconnected with something I never realized I’d been disconnected from. I think of all the concrete in Manhattan, how few times I actually touch grass or dirt there. Never, actually.
“Here you go. This look okay?”
“Better than okay,” I say, letting my gaze settle on the view that will be mine for the next two weeks.
He folds a towel around the chair cushion, places one at the top as a headrest. “If you’d like something from the beach or when you’re ready to order lunch, just stick the sign under your chair in the sand, and I’ll be right over.”
“Wonderful. Thank you so much.” I pull a ten from the wallet in my canvas bag and hand it to him.
“Thank you. Enjoy your day, Ms. Camilleri.”
“You too.”
He walks away, and I settle back in the chair, the big pink umbrella shading my upper body, my legs warming in the sun. I marvel again at the sight before me. The so-tempting water rolls into the beach on peaceful waves, the sun a blazing bulb in the nearly cloudless sky.
It’s only ten o’clock and already eighty-five degrees. I’m suddenly overcome with the desire to get in the water. I walk to the hut at the end of the beach and ask for a float. The attendant there hands me a white one with the hotel’s signature on the raised pillow. I walk back to the area where my chair is and tread out far enough to lie face down on the float.
I paddle to where it’s a little deeper. The water feels incredible. I remember it now from my trip here ten years ago. I had loved it then, and I love it again. I can’t remember the last time anything felt this good.I swim to the floating dock ahundred yards or so from the beach, hold on to the ladder while I put my float on top and climb up. I’m the only one out here, and I sit on the bench to one side, staring back at the beach, at the children playing by the water’s edge, listen to the tinker of laughter floating up from the beach-long row of chairs.
The whir of a Sea-Doo sounds behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see a guy cutting up with the waves. He angles the machine perpendicular to the rise of water, then guns it. The Sea-Doo goes airborne and lands with a smack. The rider’s fit body beneath the life vest looks familiar, andI realize it’s Anders from Spin. He looks my way at that moment, as if my gaze has pulled his to mine. I start to glanceaway, but something stops me. A moment of brazenness in which I hold the look, daring him to do anything about it.
Which he does. Immediately.
What did I just do?
He points the Sea-Doo toward the platform, letting off the gas far enough away that he floats up, the engine off, reaching out a hand to stop the machine from bumping the platform. “So how was that English buffet?” he asks, smiling his wide, very-white smile.
“Incredible,” I say. “Glad I worked out first though.”
“Good to hear. And now you’re hanging out on the swim platform by yourself?”
“Basking in the sun and a little me-time. I’ve had worse days.”
“Well, I certainly don’t want to interrupt that, but wanna go for a ride?”
“Is this what you do when you’re not bullying guests into taking your class?”
He laughs. “Bullying? Is that how I came across?”
“It could be interpreted that way.”
“Fine. Bullying for the greater good then.”
“I’ll give you that.”
“Actually, I’m out here making this thing look appealing so guests will want to rent it. Hop on and help me out.”
Okay, so I’m not immune to flattery, despite the fact that I haven’t flirted with a man in so long I should probably Google it before trying it on my own. Still, sitting on a Sea-Doo that close to the man in question doesn’t seem like a good idea. “Ah, I don’t have a life jacket.”
He opens the storage compartment at the front of the machine and pulls out an extra. “Here you go,” he says, handing it to me. “Problem solved.”
“Shouldn’t I be paying for a Sea-Doo ride given that I’m a hotel guest?”
“Technically, but if you’re assisting with advertising, we’ll let it slide this one time.”
I laugh, the sound as unexpected to my ears as it appears to be to his.
“You should do that more often,” he says, his voice low and ridiculously, I do mean ridiculously, sexy.
