When the yoga class ends, Jax turns and sees me waiting by her kayak.
She runs up to me, and I ask how the class went.
“I feel amazing, Dr. Jones,” she says with a deep, contented sigh and a stretch, a blissed-out look on her face.
That’s because you are, generally speaking, amazing, Jax Pierce.
And that’s the moment when I know I’m going to break the number one rule of Cerulean Resort: Don’t fraternize with the guests, especially not the celebrities.
Chapter Two
Jax
I wish I would have paid attention to Shark Week on television. If I had, I would have been able to identify that fin poking out of the water, and I would not have caused a scene in full view of everyone at the boathouse.
I point and squeal, “Look! A dolphin!”
My guide, the cute but nerdy guy from the resort, tells me right away the thing I don’t want to hear. “No, that’s a basking shark.”
I twist around a little too abruptly and shriek, “What?!”
As I turn, the kayak goes off balance and flips, dumping both me and the kayak guide into the water, with the shark.
Not only is this my first time being in the water near a shark in the open sea, but it’s also my first time in a kayak. Let me just say there’s nothing that makes me feel quite like trapped shark bait as a long plastic vessel in which I can’t move my legs. I might as well be stuffed inside a human-sized Kong toy, but for marine predators. Well, I got myself into this mess, and I’m going to get us out of this water, or else I’m going to be lunch.
“It’s okay, don’t panic,” says the supposed shark expert.
Excellent advice. Wonder if he’s got any practical advice in his repertoire for someone already panicking.
I don’t necessarily need a man to save me, but my kayak guide doesn’t see things that way.
Specifically, he seems to think holding on to my butt is the way to keep me calm. I mean, he’s not wrong. He does have big, strong hands.
It seems to me he grabbed me there by accident and now doesn’t seem able to let go. Is this sexual harassment or something else? Feels like something else. Is this flustered, shy fellow fun to watch as he fumbles over his words? Absolutely.
Am I also finding him adorable? Yes.
Have I been sheltered from dating men so long that I’m secretly curious if this bashful nerd is a freak in the bedroom? Also yes.
God, Jax. If this person knew what you were thinking about right now, he would probably run and hide and never speak to you again.
Eventually, I make it to donkey yoga class, which turns out to be the best activity I could have chosen to kick off the first full day of vacation — or my would-be honeymoon, depending on whom you ask.
When I return to the kayak to find Brooks there waiting for me, I feel another round of butterflies. And, I feel bad for giving shit to this man, who has introduced himself as a doctor. He’s due a little more respect than being labeled a nerd.
“Thanks for rescuing my butt,” I say.
“You would have been fine,” he replies, helping me don my life preserver. “Humans are in less danger around sharks than they are at, say, a random bar on vacation on a remote island.”
I’m taken aback by this comment. “I get nature lessons and self-defense advice. Was that part of the package?”
Brooks seems to take everything I say at face value and does not recognize the sarcasm.
“Well, this isn’t my job. The water sports director pulled me in to escort you because he was tied up elsewhere. But if you are interested in nature, I am doing a volcano tour later.”
We begin to paddle our way back to the main resort, and I make a mental note of how easily we fall into sync with our oars. Especially now that I’m less nervous, knowing I have a wildlife expert as my escort.
“Am I going to fall into hot lava? Because if there’s lava, I will be the first to fall into it. As you can see, I’m not as graceful as people assume,” I say as I consider his proposal.