When he saw Nigel hanging from his parlor chandelier, he stopped dead.
And laughed.
He was no longer bored.
CHAPTER THREE
With dawn came the soft, shimmering light and the diamond drops of dew on the grass.
And with dawn came calisthenics.
Annika liked calisthenics. She liked dropping down and giving Doyle twenty. The squats and lunges, the shuffles and the jumping jacks were like dancing—the moans and grunts and pants (especially from Sasha) always made her laugh.
Sawyer called Doyle a fucking drill sergeant, and that made her laugh, too. She understood the fuck word was a curse—so versatile!—and used a lot during calisthenics. She understood drill was a tool. But the only sergeants she knew were the sergeant majors, the name land people gave the little striped fish who liked swimming in the reef.
Imagining big, handsome Doyle as a little fish boring into coral made her laugh through her pull-ups.
“What’s so funny?” Sweaty, face pink from exertion, Sasha sco
wled as she braced for her own pull-ups.
“Doyle is a drill sergeant major. Sawyer said.”
“A . . .” Sasha sneered over at Doyle, who stood signaling her to start. “You’re now a fish,” she called out to him, then mumbled, “God, help me.”
She did one cleanly, a second reasonably well, and a third very shakily, her face going toward red with effort, wet with fresh sweat. Her arms visibly trembled.
Annika started to applaud, and Sasha hissed.
“I’ve got one more. Goddamn it.”
Annika held her breath because Sasha made a sound of awful pain, almost a scream, but her friend pulled up on her trembling arms, managed the fourth before she dropped to the ground in a panting heap.
“Good job,” Doyle told her. “Sloppy form, but gutsy. Shoot for five tomorrow.”
“Shoot for five, my butt. I might shoot you tomorrow.”
“That’s the spirit.” Reaching down, he hauled her to her feet and out of the way. “You’re up, Gwin.”
Riley set, did a smooth dozen in the time it had taken Sasha to strain out four.
“I might shoot you, too,” Sasha said darkly. “I might just be in the mood for a double homicide.”
“You did four,” Annika reminded her. “The first time, you couldn’t do even one, but today, you did four.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Then Sasha blew out a long breath. “Yeah,” she said in a stronger tone. “And tomorrow I’ll shoot for five.”
They had breakfast, and did the morning chores Sasha had listed on the new chart. Then it was time to hike to the marina.
Annika wanted to run. She could barely wait to dive into the sea. But she liked watching how Bran and Sasha held hands, or how Doyle and Riley argued over who would drive the boat.
The air smelled beautiful, with the breeze bringing scents of sea and flowers, of the lemons, of the grass. The walk provided gardens to admire, the flight of birds. And time with Sawyer.
“Will you take pictures in the water?”
“Yeah, I’m set for it.”
“If you taught me how to use the camera, I could take pictures of you. When you take them, you aren’t in the picture.”