Chapter 13Hazel
Chapter 13
Hazel
There is a reason Jack Morgan has climbed the company ranks so quickly.
Sales is about people , and Jack clearly knows his craft.
It is an incredible feeling to be seen. And that’s what Jack does. He peers into me, fishes out what’s important, and fearlessly talks about it.
His openness is contagious.
That might be why I’m letting myself get gabby.
“And… see how he nods like that when he chews?” I say, pointing to Chester the Sea Turtle. “Totally reminds me of my old therapist. He nodded at me during our Zoom calls exactly like that. The real Chester had the saggiest neck.”
Jack tips his head back and guffaws.
He’s getting a kick out of me. I like it.
We’re standing side by side on the walkway by the lagoon. I rest my forearms on the rough wooden railing.
We’ve laughed a lot this past half-hour since we left the Tiki Grille. It’s been nice to stroll around the resort, enjoying the scenery and wildlife. We watched a peacock fan his tail out and prance around, a flamingo stalk through a shallow fountain, and a dolphin play.
Now, we’re watching the sea turtles. In particular, Chester.
“I mean, understandably saggy,” I add. “He’s seventy, by the way. Seventy, and still working because he loves his job. Excellent therapist, too. Super passionate about his work.”
“I love that… when people are still into all their things as they age. I’d like to be eighty, still riding my dirt bike.”
“That sounds like the fastest way to earn yourself a stay in the hospital ever. If I make it to eighty, I’m going to use a walker whether they tell me I need it or not. Just for the extra stability. Why not?”
He laughs again. “No way. Not me. I hope to still be doing some jumps. Maybe go for a world record. There’s a guy out there these days who’s riding at eighty and gets serious press for it. Sponsors, the whole deal. Not a bad gig, if you ask me. And if I added jumps in?—”
“Wait, isn’t the whole ‘jumps’ thing ridiculously dangerous? You’re talking about catching actual air… right? Like, never mind feet on the ground, you don’t even have tires on the ground.”
“Exciting feeling, unless it goes wrong.” His eyes pinch as though with a painful memory for just an instant. But then, the twinkle is back. “It’s like I tell my sister-in-law. Dangerous usually means fun.”
“Whew… Nope, not the way I see it. I don’t do danger, thank you very much.”
“You’d like dirt biking, I bet.”
“I like sports that involve both of my feet on the ground.”
“I’d get you in a helmet, pads, the whole deal. You could sit on the back of my bike and hold on. If I kept the speed slow, you’d get the feel for it without any adrenaline rush.”
Is he trying to impress me?
To his credit, he is.
He’s adopted that gentle, caring, protective attitude I loved so much when he lifted me out of the hot tub.
I have no doubt that he’d take care of me if I ever agreed to get on the back of his motorcycle.
Which I won’t.
Will I?
No.
This is nothing in the big picture of my life. I’m getting a brief glimpse of what life would be like if I had a man like Jack Morgan circling in my orbit. Brief . That’s the keyword. We’re two coworkers on vacation.
This vacation will end.
The tension between us right now will never translate into anything real and lasting.
At the end of this week, he’ll go back to Utah. I’ll go to New Hampshire. We’ll have to pretend this—whatever it is—never happened.
We’ll go back to annoying each other via email, disagreeing about work, and?—
“Hey, Hazel…” his low, rumbly voice yanks me out of my spiral of worry. “My bike’s a thousand miles from here. You don't have to worry about it.”
“That’s not what I’m worrying about.”
I look back out at the water of the lagoon.
The surface is glassy and still. The breeze coming in off the ocean died down when the sun set. Even the birds are hushed, for the most part, now that we’re nearing their sleeping hours.
I can’t find Chester the Sea Turtle. Where did he go?
I search for movement in the lagoon and finally spot a silvery dot. The dot gives way to the sea turtle’s nose, then his body.
Chester keeps his head up momentarily, probably sipping some much-needed air.
“I’m glad this place has turtles,” I say. “Did you know they live up to a hundred years? This resort protects and feeds this pair as part of some program. I’m pretty sure this is the one I’m calling Chester. His shell has a little more yellowish color than the others.”
“If it is, I’d like a word with him.” Jack’s deep voice is incredibly soft now. Thoughtful. Gentle. “My bike is far off, and that’s my usual way to cope. Maybe a word with a wise soul would do me good. I sure do miss Nola.”
He looks out at the water. His profile is striking: wild hair, straight nose, full lips, and strong jaw. “Chester, bud, you got a sec?”
When the turtle swims toward us, Jack looks at me with raised brows. “Are you seeing this?”
“He likes voices, I think. Maybe he thinks we have food, too. The last time I spent time with him, I was like a vegetable dispenser.”
Jack turns to face the water. “Bud, hate to disappoint you, but this lady’s not your feeding crew.”
I drop my gaze and consider the turtle. His dark eyes study me right back. His shell is an intricate pattern of dark green and pale yellow.
“I don’t mean to take all your time with him,” Jack says.
“I think he’s here for both of us,” I say. “You go first.”
“Okay. Chester, buddy, what’s a guy supposed to do when he gets into a tricky situation, romantically speaking?”
Chester blinks. Then he dips his head underwater and comes up with a mouthful of slimy, dark seaweed.
Jack clasps his hands together. “Great. You have your snack and think about it.”
“So, you’re in a tricky situation…” I twist so my back rests on the railing.
“Very tricky.” Jack studies me. That stormy, troubled look flits behind his eyes. “Hazel… the work situation aside… I’m not exactly—” He stops there and drags his fingers through his hair.
Not exactly what?
I want to know.
I could ask him to go on.
Or I could wait.
He examines the murky water. “I’m just… I dunno. I guess… I’ve gone through it. You know—the wringer. I guess you don’t get to thirty-two without ups and downs.”
“I know,” I say very quietly.
I do know. I know how it feels to live through challenging, hurtful experiences. I’ve had my heart broken a few times.
“I don’t know what’s happening here.” His voice is so deep and resonant with emotion. “With you. With us . Just feel it’s probably good to give you fair warning. I’m not exactly in the best place.”
The best place for what?
I would ask if all my old heartaches weren’t running rampant through my head. I’m too busy feeling those old, familiar wounds to figure out what he’s trying to say.
“We’re on vacation,” I murmur. “Maybe we don’t have to figure it out.”
Behind him, I catch a glimpse of the ocean. The waves are striped with bands of moonlight that give way to inky darkness between the swells.
His features are pale in the moonlight. I love how his bottom lip curves where it meets his chin.
I want him to kiss me again. At the same time, I know it would be just another mistake I’d have to deal with in the morning.
When he turns to face me, he seems to pick up on the desire stirring in me.
His eyes dip down to my lips for a brief, heated minute.
I stoop to reach for the computer bag I set down near the railing. “Maybe we should keep walking.”
“We could hang by the pool for a minute if you’re up for it.”
“Lying in one of those lounge chairs sounds perfect. And I don’t know why, but I’ve always loved how pools look with that underwater lighting.”
He grins. “Yeah, I saw the way you were looking out there. Cool. I think the poolside bar serves dessert, too.”
“Dessert! After all those fries? I don’t know.”
“Aw, come on. Live a little.”
We turn and move along the walkway. It’s so easy to walk in step with him, close to his side. I can already see the pool area up ahead. Guests mingle, some in the water, others perched on the edge, and others in chairs. The hot tub is full.
Hopefully, we’ll find two available lounge chairs.
I’m glad for the busy scene. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get through tonight without making another mistake.
Maybe .