TWELVE

 

Breezy Breeze and Dolphins with No Sense of Shame

 

Harrison

 

 

“I'm coming home,” Emma says for the third time in the two minutes since she called.

I'm standing in my bathroom, dripping wet from the shower, drying myself off while I simultaneously try to calm my hyper sister down. Glancing at the clock, I see I have exactly six minutes to dress and be all the way on the other side of the resort if I'm going to beat Libby to my office. And I absolutely must get there before she does because if Rosy greets her, everything could fall apart. I haven't exactly had a chance to tell her about the whole GlobalLux thing, and Rosy isn't the kind of person who embraces change easily. She is the kind of person who will chase off anyone she thinks is a threat, though, and she won’t be nice about it.

“There's no reason for you to come back. Seriously, I've got it handled, Emma, and there's absolutely no way I'm letting you give up your dream just because there's a teeny financial squeeze at the moment.” I toss my towel onto the floor and grab my boxer briefs off the counter.

“A teeny financial squeeze? Are you kidding me right now? I know it's much worse than that because nothing short of bankruptcy could ever make you sell Matilda to Stogie Stew.”

I wince, then curse under my breath. “I take it Wikileaks called you?” Pulling my polo shirt over my head, I then quickly slide my arms through and reach for my bottle of cologne.

“I called her. Unlike Will, I feel like I owe it to Rosy to stay in touch.”

I’m not even going to touch that one — Emma and Will butt heads like a couple of mountain goats. Something about being a year apart and complete opposites seems to have doomed their relationship. “Listen, I have to run. I need to be over at the office in about half a minute. Just promise me you’re not going to do something stupid like quit school.”

“I'm not going to sit here in New York and let you spend thousands of dollars a month on my education while you're there struggling.”

“We've talked about this, Emma. I'm making an investment in your future that is going to have huge returns for all of us. If you come home now, we can’t add that we have a Culinary Institute-trained master chef to our promotional material. I need you to stay put. And I’ve really got to run.”

“Harrison, do not hang up on me!”

I grab my keys off the counter and rush out the door, hopping into my golf cart and starting it up. “I need to hang up. I could get a big ticket for talking on the phone while driving.”

“How is it possible someone with no children has nothing but dad jokes in his repertoire?”

“You know, if you’re going to be mean, you should just stay in New York. In fact, stay anyway.”

“Not a chance. I'll see you in a few days,” Emma says.

“Do not—” I don't finish my sentence because she's already hung up on me.

“Son of a bitch,” I murmur. I hit the accelerator and zip around tourists who are meandering along the wide path on their way to breakfast. One of them is leaning down, feeding a pastry to an opossum but I don’t even bother to try to stop her. Redialing Emma's number while I weave my way to the office, I then wait for her to answer, but her phone goes directly to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Emma. I'm busy perfecting a soufflé right now, so leave me a message. Beep.”

“Do not come home. I repeat, do not come home. Stay exactly where you are. Finish school. I will see you next year when you are a fully certified chef and not a moment sooner. I promise the resort will still be standing when you get here.” With that I hang up, feeling a knot in my stomach caused by the possibility that, even though the resort will still be standing, we may no longer be the owners.

I round the next corner as fast as the 48 volts of power in the batteries will take me and slide into a parking stall in front of the office. Hopping up the steps two at a time, I rush into the building, only to see Libby has arrived ahead of me. Rosy goes from glaring at her to glaring at me. Shiiiiitttttt.

“Good morning, ladies. I'm sorry I’m a few minutes late.” Giving Rosy a sharp look, I say, “I was on the phone with my very panicky sister, who’s insisting on moving home.”

Rosy gives me a sheepish look and backs down just slightly from her previous aggressive, mother bear stance.

I smile at Libby. “I haven’t had a chance to bring Rosy up to speed on our conversation from yesterday.”

“I gathered that,” she says, looking utterly uncomfortable. “Rosy was just telling me where GlobalLux can stick our proposal, in rather graphic detail.”

“I wanted to be sure GlobalLux got the message,” Rosy says, narrowing her eyes.

“So, then I take it you already know that Libby is a business analyst who’s going to…well, analyze our business and save us from ourselves.” That may not have been the best way to word it, because Rosy looks utterly pissed at the thought of me bringing in an outsider for advice when I won’t listen to hers.

Libby holds out her hand. “Oh, no, I’m not here to tell you how to do your job, Rosy. I’m more of a process person. I look at all the procedures in place and offer solutions to make improvements where needed.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you telling me how to do my job,” Rosy says, raising one eyebrow.

Libby nods and chews on her bottom lip. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

I decide to step in and save her. “Do you want to go grab a coffee, Libby? I think it might be beneficial for Rosy and I to have a quick chat.”

“Sure,” she says, sliding the strap of her briefcase onto her shoulder and turning to the front of the building.

I usher Rosy into my office and shut the door.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Rosy asks, her tone rising with each word.

I hold up my hand before she can start yelling. “Hear me out. This just may be the most sane thing I’ve ever done.”

“You better have an ace up your sleeve because it sounds like you’re about to sell everything Oscar spent his life building just so it can be dismantled for parts.”

“It’s not…they won’t…” I shake my head, horrified by the idea. “Listen, I cut a deal with Libby. She’s going to do her assessment, then tell her bosses we aren’t selling. We get all her ideas for how to get out of the considerable hole we’re in free of charge, and she goes home.” Okay, I may be bending the truth here a bit, but it’s for the greater good, so…

“Really? And just what exactly did you offer her to get her to agree to that?”

I give her a devil-may-care smile, but she doesn’t buy it. Sighing, I say, “She’s desperate to do the assessment. If she can’t, she’ll be fired. I said I’d agree to let her look around so she can go back with that much at least. There’s literally no risk involved for us.”

“Don’t be so sure. Once these companies get their talons in you, they don’t let go until they shake the life out of you and pick the meat off your bones. Then they leave the bones for the vultures to snack on while you rot.”

“Well, that was a disturbing metaphor,” I say. “You really don’t have to worry though, because I’m going to use her to get what we need and then say no.”

Raising one eyebrow, Rosy crosses her arms and does her signature stare-down, which, as children was guaranteed to make us confess to any crime, whether we did it or not.

I sigh and continue. “You said it yourself, Rosy. We’re in some serious trouble and we need to make some major changes. I’m hoping we can use Libby to figure out the right moves.”

“But, GlobalLux? Have you forgotten what they did to Mooncrest Hills? They bought them, and when they couldn’t make a profit after six months, they shut it down and sold off everything piece-by-piece.”

“Which is why I’d never sell to them.” I say, putting my hands on her shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep this place.” Letting go of her, I give her an impish grin. “Even if I have to take one for the team and sleep with Ms. Dewitt out there.”

Rosy rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but I beat her to the punch. “I know what I’m doing, Rosy. I promise I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect what’s mine. I am Superman, after all.”

 

***

 

“There's been a slight change of plans today.” I usher Libby out of the building just as she's walking in.

“I thought that might happen. She hates me, doesn't she?”

“More like she hates change, and you represent what could possibly be a massive change. So while we’re giving Rosy time to get used to the idea, I thought I would take you out for the day so you can examine Paradise Bay's most popular activity — the snorkelling and parasailing excursion.” I give her my weatherman smile, hoping my enthusiasm will detract from what just happened.

She chews on her bottom lip, adorably conflicted. “I really wanted to get started looking at the books today…”

“Tomorrow will be much better. Maybe Monday.”

“Doesn't Rosy work for you?” she asks, looking very confused.

“She works for the resort, yes, but she also pretty much raised me, so we have a bit of an unusual power dynamic.”

Her face softens and she nods. “All right. So, what do I need to bring for this boat trip?”

Letting out a sigh of relief, I say, “A bikini, some sunscreen, and definitely a giant hat to keep you from burning. The catamaran leaves in forty minutes.”

“Okay, but Harrison, you need to know I'm really not there to have fun. I'll be bringing my notebook so I can start my assessment. I’m also not parasailing or snorkelling.”

“But Ms. Dewitt, how are you supposed to properly advise your employer if you don't try all of our activities?”

“That's my problem to solve, not yours.”

 

***

 

I help Justin and Fidel finish stocking the boat with drinks and food for the day. Then we double check to make sure we have the right number of snorkel masks and flippers, but to be honest, my mind isn't really on the tasks at hand. Instead it keeps wandering to the all-important question of whether or not a certain someone will be wearing a certain bikini again today.

“What's that smile about?” Fidel asks with a knowing grin.

“Nothing. I was just thinking of a funny video I saw on Reddit last night.” I avoid eye contact with him and try to order my face to stop blushing.

“It's that woman from last night, isn't it?” Justin says as he tucks a box of crisps under the bar counter. “The one with the blue bikini.”

“Who?” I ask, trying to look completely confused. Then I feign boredom. “Oh, her. She's just doing some work for the resort for the next little bit.”

“I don’t know, man. I saw the way you looked at her.”

“Really?” Fidel asks, his face spreading into a big smile.

“No, not really,” I say. “Don't listen to him, Fidel. I seriously am not interested in Libby.”

“Oh, good,” Justin says. “If you're not interested in her, maybe I could see what she's up to later.”

“Nope. Bad idea,” I say with a much sharper tone than I intend.

Both guys start laughing and Fidel slaps me on the shoulder. “He likes her!”

“I do not like her. Not even a little bit. She’s irritating and…way too quirky. Besides, I think she has a fiancé, sort of, although he sounds like a total dickhead.” When I look up, both guys are looking far too amused for my liking. “That doesn’t mean I like her. I just feel sorry for her, okay?”

“Sure you do,” Fidel says. “And I bet you’d like to be the guy to help her feel better.” He and Justin high-five each other while I straighten up and cross my arms.

“There’s nothing going on between us. She’s here for work. End of story. Now, if you two boneheads could drop it, we have a boat to prepare.”

 

***

 

We're halfway through the morning, and so far, Libby has made good on her word to work while she's aboard. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m kind of disappointed she hasn't come up to the top deck while I navigate our way over to our destination, Playa Blanca Cay.

The tiny island has a beach that looks and feels like someone dumped a cargo plane full of icing sugar on it. My uncle bought it, along with a few other very small, uninhabited islands, back in the early nineties. We use this one for day excursions because there’s a nice wide reef surrounding the entire island, which means the water is always calm and it’s perfect for snorkelling. We dock a speedboat there for parasailing and have bathrooms, showers, and an outdoor kitchen with a wooden plank floor, a bar, and a grass roof for some shade. We also have lounge chairs and umbrellas we bring out when we arrive. It’s an experience people never fail to mention when they post reviews on TripAdvisor.

Normally I’m completely confident that things will go off without a hitch, but somehow just knowing Libby's on board is causing my heart to race a little. I'm sure it's because she's evaluating me — well, not me, the resort. It’s definitely not because I find her attractive. I’ve met hundreds of attractive women, and they never cause my heart to race.

She’s wearing the cutest sundress today — a short yellow number with some flowers on it — and I can see she's wearing a bikini underneath, but this one has white straps. I’m itching to see what it looks like when it's wet, which tells me it's been way too long since I've been with a woman.

When we reach Playa Blanca, I dock the catamaran as close to the beach as possible, then turn off the motor and jump down the steep steps to the main deck where Fidel is giving the guests the itinerary.

“…have lunch and then whoever didn't have a chance to do the parasailing this morning will get to do it in the afternoon while the other people are enjoying their time snorkelling or relaxing on the beach. At around 3 o'clock, we'll start our trip back to Paradise Bay. So, don’t forget your sunscreen and to have the time of your life.”

The guests move in the direction of the ramp while I scan the small crowd, looking for Libby. I spot her sitting on a bench, shaded by the wall of the cabin. She's writing something in her notebook with one hand while she taps a few numbers into her calculator with the other.

“You coming, Reef?” Justin asks. He jabs me in the ribs and lowers his voice. “Or are you going to stay aboard for a little alone time with Miss It's-Just-Business?”

I shoot him a warning look. “I'll be down there in a minute. I just want to see if she has any questions first.”

“I bet,” he says with a laugh.

A moment later, we're alone on the boat. She must know I'm staring at her because she looks up from her work.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I say, “So? Did we fail?”

“You really don’t expect me to answer that, do you?” she says with a smile, snapping her notebook shut.

“Well, I kind of hoped…” I give her a boyish grin.

“It will be much better for you if you stop hoping, because I have no intention of telling you anything until I've made my final decision.”

“In that case, are you ready to go parasailing?”

“I already told you, I'm not going parasailing.” She shakes her head and tucks her notebook and calculator into her beach bag.

“Why not? Been there, done that?”

“Never been there, never going to do that.” She pulls on her enormous straw hat and walks toward me. “I have a pretty good life and see no need to end it at the tender age of twenty-eight.”

I step aside and gesture for her to disembark ahead of me. She gingerly makes her way down the wooden plank to the shore while I watch her skirt sway. Being a gentleman has its advantages. Except I guess the fact that I’m staring at her bottom doesn’t exactly make me a gentleman, does it?

I follow her down the dock, trying not to ogle her backside anymore. “Are you afraid of heights?”

She turns and looks at me over her shoulder, then says, “I'm not afraid of heights. I'm afraid of falling, which, if you ask me, is just good common sense. If humans were meant to fly—”

“—we would’ve been born with wings?” I say with a wry smile.

“Yes. Exactly.” She stops just as she reaches the end of the dock. Sliding off her sandals, she picks them up and steps down onto the white beach.

“Then how did you manage to get to the Benavente Islands all the way from Avonia?” I ask.

“That's different.”

“How so?”

“Because that was necessary for my job. Plus, I wasn't dangling from the back of a boat in some dodgy harness. I was tucked safely into a very large jumbo jet, wearing a seatbelt and sitting on a very sturdy chair.”

“I’ll have you know, none of my harnesses are dodgy. They’re very well-made and safety-tested regularly.”

“And yet, I’m not about to strap myself into one.”

“Come on. That girl I met on Sunday night certainly would've gone parasailing.”

“That girl doesn't exist,” she says, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

“Sure she does. I saw her in person — a lot of her.”

Laughing, Libby covers her mouth with one hand, then shakes her head. “I'm not going parasailing. I'm just going to find a nice spot in the shade where I can observe everything.”

“How about I make you a deal: you go parasailing with me, and I'll ask Rosy to add up all our utility and fuel costs since the start of the year, which ought to save you quite a few hours of calculations.”

“Seriously? You're trying to negotiate this? Why do you even care if I go parasailing?”

Good question. I have no idea why I care, I just know I do — very much. “Because in the unlikely event that you decide the resort is better off with your people than mine, I want to make sure to drive the price up on you,” I say.

“And you think getting me to dangle from a harness is actually going to drive the price up?” she asks, looking completely unimpressed.

“I happen to know for a fact that when you see the view of these islands and this water from that vantage point, it's going to add at least one zero to the price. Maybe two.” I bump her shoulder with my arm, hoping she'll say yes. “I’ll even go with you, tandem, so you won’t have to do anything, and I’ll be right there to make sure you land safely. I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

When she looks up at me, the expression on her face tells me I've won.

 

***

 

“When you said tandem, I thought you meant we'd be side-by-side,” she says, leaning to the right and turning so she can look back at me.

“This is the safest way for a beginner. It means you don’t have to balance yourself back here while the boat hits full speed.” We’re standing on the stern of the speedboat, strapped together, with me behind her, and I have to say, I did not think this through. If I thought I was having trouble keeping my mind on business before, it was nothing compared to now.

She’s clearly very nervous, which makes me want to wrap my arms around her and pull her in until she relaxes. She’s also wearing nothing but a bikini, which made it hard for me to help get her strapped in — hard on account of trying not to get hard while I was tightening the straps so close to her ample chest and her cute behind.

Fidel starts the motor and gently increases the speed, and her hair blows toward my face, bringing with it the scent of her shampoo and sunscreen. She smells like apples and coconut, and the combination makes me feel a little drunk.

“You all right?” I ask her.

She nods, but doesn’t say anything, which makes me think I may be pushing her too far with this one.

“You sure? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I think it’ll be good for me. I should try new things,” she says, her voice sounding anything but sure.

One of the other guests has Libby’s phone and says, “Say cheese!” to us.

I lean to the left and smile, hoping I don’t look like a total arse grinning away while the woman in front of me is so scared, she’s trying not to pee herself.

The boat speeds up and Libby loses her balance. I catch her, holding her by the waist, trying not to notice how soft her skin is against my rough palms. She giggles nervously, then squeals as we’re lifted into the air.

“I think I changed my mind!” she shouts as we go up in the air.

I force my hands to release her and enjoy the sound of her laughter as we ascend up one thousand feet into the sky. She grips the cords that attach us to the sail and says, “This is really friggin’ high! I didn’t think we’d be so far from the water!”

“Too high?”

“Yes! And no! I’m not sure, but I think I kind of love it,” she yells, laughing some more. “It’s scary and wonderful at the same time!”

I chuckle, thoroughly enjoying being here to experience this with her.

“What happens if we fall?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you on the way down.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Absolutely. The impact will likely break most of the bones in my body, but you’ll be just fine.”

“Okay, good. That’s all I really care about anyway,” she teases.

The boat curves to the right, making its way around the first turn of the tiny island. Libby points down to where a pair of dolphins can be seen jumping and swimming along next to each other. “Do you see that?”

“We call them Fred and Wilma. Watch, they’ll try to race the boat!”

We watch for a minute, but the pair seem completely disinterested in the boat. They continue to swim side-by-side.

“They’re not doing it.” Libby says.

Then suddenly, one of them flips onto its back and they connect at their bellies.

Libby cocks her head to the side. “Are they…?”

“Yep, they’re doing it, all right.”

We both burst out laughing while we pass over the pair.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” I say, tapping Libby on the shoulder and pointing in the other direction. There’s an excellent view of the snorkelling bay, and you can make out the brightly coloured fish swimming around the coral.

“This is amazing,” Libby says, letting go of the cords and holding her arms out to the sides.

“Are you glad you agreed to try it?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m safely on the ground,” she says.

The next few minutes go by far too quickly for my liking, and I’m already filled with regret before we even land in the water. Okay, idiot, snap out of it already. Nothing is going to happen. She’s going to do her report and go back home, and you’re never going to see her again.

The boat slows and we start to drift down toward the sea near the beach. Libby grips the chute cords again and I know she’s nervous.

Leaning forward a bit, I say, “It’s okay, just remember what I told you. All you have to do is relax and I’ll take care of everything.”

“You sound like my first boyfriend,” she answers, looking over her shoulder with a grin.

“And?”

“He did a most thorough job of taking care of himself.”

I don’t know why I say the next thing — well, actually, I do — but I know I shouldn’t. “Don’t worry, you won’t have that same problem with me. Your happy ending is my top priority.”

Fidel cuts the engine and everything grows quiet as we finish our descent.

“You ready?”

“No,” she says, curling up her knees.

We float down into the water, the sail landing behind us and tugging on the cords a bit as I start to tread water and unhook myself. Once I’m free, I push myself under the water and out of the harness. I swim around and come face to face with Libby while I unhook her, trying not to think about how close my hands are to her chest right now as it rises and falls with exhilaration.

“So? Are you glad you tried it?” I ask, looking her right in the eyes.

Her gaze meets mine and there is enough heat to bring the entire sea to a low boil. Swallowing hard, she says, “Yes. Thank you for taking me.”

“You’re welcome. That was fun.” Do not kiss her. Do not kiss her, Harrison. That would be a very bad idea. No matter how full those lips are or how she’s looking at you.

Licking her lips, she says, “I’m almost sorry it’s over.”

Me too. I brush some wet hair from her cheek and tuck it behind her ear, letting the back of my hand graze her skin. She closes her eyes and I start to lean in, lowering my face to hers.

Something shifts in an instant, and her eyes spring open with fear. In a very formal voice, she says, “Thank you again, Mr. Banks. I’ll have to make Richard try it sometime. He’ll love it.”

Oh, shit. I’m going to get crushed, aren’t I?

 

***

 

Text from Will: Hey, bro. Heads up - Emma called a few days ago. She’s super pissed that you sold Matilda, so maybe don’t pick up when she calls for a while. On a side note, you should totally come to Antarctica – the cold weather makes the women here desperate for someone to keep them warm. ;)