Page 5

“Right,Diana. Like the goddess. We gave Amber the same warning.
“That’s why a pretty girl like you needs to be careful,” Doug said, patting my arm. “While this island seems safe, you never know what might happen. If you need anything, find us. We’re here for you.”
“Um, thank you?” They seemed so sincere, I almost thought they weretoonice.
“Doug worries about everything. Don’t let him scare you,” David said. “St. Claire is a wonderful resort. We’ve met some terrific people over the years. We’ll have drinks later, get to know each other.”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
They went into the cabin and I was happily alone. The luxury yacht cut through the ocean like a knife, leaving behind a white, frothy wake and erasing all feelings of unease.Thiswas peace. The fresh air, the splash of the water, the blue sky meeting the bluer ocean. Maybe a week in paradise wouldn’t be so bad.
Several deck chairs were positioned facing the water, none ofthem occupied. I sank into one, finally removed from the super-awkward expectation of mingling and small talk. I pulled my book from my bag, but couldn’t stop thinking about Diana, the missing woman. As I stared at St. John Island shrinking in the distance, I thought up a hundred scenarios for what might have happened to her. She left her husband and disappeared with her lover.Or she met with foul play, the victim of a robbery gone bad. Or she was single and met a hot, sexy waiter who swept her off her feet, stole a yacht, and sailed off to the Bahamas.
I sighed, thinking about how I wouldn’t mind meeting a hot, sexy waiter to sweepmeoff my feet and take me to a beautiful island where we could run around on the beach half-naked and drink daiquiris out of coconut shells.
Of course, I didn’t want to go missing. Because not all sexy men were good guys, and being whisked away was just a half step from being kidnapped. Maybe Diana had trusted the wrong person.
“Enough,” I told myself, mentally making a note to ask the concierge about the missing woman. Right now, I needed to relax. And finish my book. I opened it to where I’d left my favorite bookmark—a laminated black card with a clear go-away message in white Courier font:
Thanks for not talking to me while I read.
It worked most of the time.
I was lost again in the book. No longer did I hear the chatter of voices from the cabin or the thrum of the engine cutting through water. All I heard were the voices of the characters in this fictional world I cared about as I followed them on their journey to solve the string of arson fires and fall in love in the process.
“Miss? Ms. Crawford? Are you all right?”
I looked up at the skinny server—with enough hair sticking out in all directions, I briefly wondered if he’d somehow electrocuted himself. He stared at me and asked again, “Are you okay?”
“What? Yes! He came back at the end! I knew he would, but I was a little worried that his stubbornness would get the better of him.”
“Um... I meant... you’re crying, and everyone else has already disembarked.”
The ferry had stopped. The engine was off. The water was still. I didn’t hear voices, no clinking of glassware. It was just me and the young server, wide eyes filled with concern.
Wiping my face, slightly embarrassed—yes, I had cried tears of joy that these characters had found their happily-ever-after—I said, “Whoops, I’m sorry. I didn’t miss the shuttle, did I?”
“No, everyone is on the dock.”
“I’ll be right there, okay?” I smiled broadly as if I wasn’t just crying over a book.
“Take your time, Ms. Crawford. We won’t leave without you.”
He left, and I breathed a long sigh of relief, got up and crossed to the railing.
This story had impacted me more than most, and I couldn’t wait to gush about it. I would write a review, maybe record a reel for Instagram. I loved the community of readers I’d fostered online, where we talked about the books that swept us away. Maybe I could start a series of reviews, “Books I Read on Vacation.” Ha, it would be a short series, considering this would be my last vacation for a very long time. Especially with the partnership waiting back home.
The unbelievably blue ocean beckoned me. As I leaned over the railing, I could seehundredsof fish swimming along the sandy bottom. An entire school of shimmery gray fish turned in unison and disappeared under the boat.
Never have I seen water so inviting that I had the urge to just jump in.Thatwould be completely out of character.Spontaneouswas my wild grandmother, not me.
I wished I had someone who’d jump into the ocean with me, someone to share this amazing, once-in-a-lifetime experience.
But I didn’t, and I’d have to suck it up that I was here alone.
Being alone doesn’t mean I have to be miserable.
Maybe David and Doug could introduce me to any single straight guys they knew.