Page 9 of The Billionaire's Teacher

“Of course.” She pulled open a drawer and withdrew a chef’s knife. She put it on the table and gestured to it. “You know what dicing is?”

“I do.” I guessed, given that I didn’t grill, she now wasn’t sure if I could exist in the kitchen. “I can cook. I just don’t grill.”

Her lips twitched. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure. Dice up the mango, papaya, pineapple, and avocado. You can put them in this.”

I took the bowl she extended. “Got it. That’s the fruit salsa?”

“The start of it. When you’ve done that, we’ll add a spicy pepper or two and some lime juice.”

“Spicy is good.”

“Yeah? Then we’ll add two. Seeds or not are up to you.” She dug around in the fridge until she found two long, skinny green peppers. “Don’t touch your face or eyes after you chop those.”

“Got it.” I’d made that mistake before. It was the kind of thing that only happened once though. My eyes watered from thinking about it. I moved around the table and sat. There was a cutting board that I hadn’t seen her set out, but I pulled it, the fruit, and the knife closer and got to work. “Do you enjoy cooking like this?”

“It’s better than going hungry.” She unwrapped the fish. “I don’t hate it. I like a real kitchen when I have the chance. Or a restaurant where none of the prep or cleanup is on me.”

I laughed. “I like that last option myself. Or, if I can’t justify the expense of eating out all the time, I get those meal prep deliveries. At least it means I don’t have to think about what to cook all the time.”

She looked up from seasoning the fish. “If this is out of line, let me know, but why would you worry about the cost?”

“What do you mean?”

She gestured to the boat, still holding a spice jar in her hand. “You can afford this. And me. For three weeks. Unless you’ve been saving up for a long, long time, that means worrying about money isn’t something that should be high on your to-do list.”

My face burned. Unfortunately, I hadn’t started on the chiles yet, so I couldn’t blame that. “All right. I guess that’s fair. But I don’t want to be one of those rich guys who doesn’t think about it. That might not make sense.”

She shot a long, considering look my way before nodding once. “Maybe.”

I contemplated asking what that meant, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know. There was more I could say on the subject. The guys—all of us—had a lot of conversations about using our billions in a way that honored God.

Maybe running a dive shop and taking people on cool trips didn’t immediately sound like that was what I was doing, but I definitely considered it a calling. A ministry, of sorts, even.

I’d never felt closer to God than under the ocean, surrounded by His creation. I didn’t think it was possible to dive andnotbe awed by all that God put into the earth. When I was diving, the words of Psalm 8 always played through my mind.What is man, that thou art mindful of him?

It was easy to lose sight of that in the day-to-day.

It was impossible to miss forty feet under water.

4

SUNSHINE

We arrived in the British Virgin Islands last night a little ahead of my anticipated schedule. It was nice to clear through with the authorities and get settled at the dock while it was still light out.

Wes had gone ashore for dinner. He’d invited me, but I was content to make a sandwich. I was only there to drive the boat and introduce him to some of the dive operators I knew. I’d just as soon keep our relationship as professional as possible. The lines would blur—they always did when it was a smaller group on the boat with me—but it was still important to make sure the line between employee and friend didn’t get crossed. I’d watched too many acquaintances get stung when they forgot what the relationship was supposed to be. Boat operators in the islands were a tight-knit, gossip-fueled community. Once someone got a reputation, it was next to impossible to change.

As a single woman, I couldn’t risk my livelihood. And I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life fending off advances because someone had heard I offered different services along with driving the boat.

I blew out a breath and finished getting ready. Today was a new day. Part of my job was to take Wes around. So that was what I’d do. If he wanted to dive, we’d do that. I was happy to go or stay ashore if there was a group he could join.

I smoothed the comforter on my berth and gave one final look around the small cabin. I prided myself on being neat. Even though this was my personal area, I never assumed that the guests wouldn’t poke their heads in. Curiosity was a natural thing.

Content that it would pass as professional, should Wes decide to take a glance, I kissed my fingers and lightly touched my husband’s photo, then crossed to the door and headed out. I paused in the small space near the stairs up to the main deck and listened. There weren’t any audible snores coming from the main berth. But I also didn’t hear any sounds of someone moving around. It was early yet, so that wasn’t completely unexpected.

I climbed up to the main deck and took my first deep breath of the ocean air. There was nothing like it. I closed my eyes and drew in another deep lungful then let it slowly out. I made a quick check of everything at the helm—it was all as it should be—then crossed to the kitchen to start some coffee.

While Wes had been at dinner last night, I’d taken a quick trip to the market for fresh fruit and somepan de Mallorca,a sweet bread that made a fantastic breakfast. At least in my opinion. Hopefully Wes would agree. If not, there were some nice little cafés nearby that would have hot options.

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