Chapter Nine
The sun was setting behind the palms, with gold bleeding into orange and then bruising purple where it touched the ocean.
Skye sat cross-legged in the sand with her heels buried, and her sunglasses still on even though the light was slipping away.
She was just far enough out of the designated film zone to trust that there weren’t any cameras lingering.
This was her space, her time.
“What are you doing?” Marla’s voice came from behind her.
Skye whipped her head back. “Hiding,” she said, not bothering to lie about it. She turned back and stared out at the ocean, and at the tide rolling up toward her toes. The water stopped short, leaving a glistening thread of foam behind on the wet sand.
Marla lowered herself into the sand with a small grunt. “Well, you’re not very good at hiding, Red. I found you in a minute.”
Skye ignored her. “What the hell was today?” she asked, changing the topic.
“What do you mean?” Marla said coyly. She had a smile on her face that told Skye she knew exactly what she had meant.
“The whole date takeover. That wasn’t part of the script.”
Marla shrugged and brushed sand off her legs. “I needed to throw in something unexpected,” she said brightly. “You know, to get a real reaction out of you.”
Skye raised an eyebrow. “So, you interrupted my date with Nova before we could even get to know each other a little more. Isn’t that exactly the opposite of what we want, to interrupt a heartfelt moment?”
“Oh please,” Marla said, pulling a face. “Nothing about your conversation with Nova was heartfelt. Besides, the fans are going to love it.”
Skye didn’t reply. Mostly because she didn't trust what her face would do if she opened her mouth.
“We got everything we needed today,” Marla said when the moment got too quiet. “Paddleboards looked great, and the sunscreen bit was pure TV gold. You and Lucy have chemistry. You can’t deny it, Skye.”
Skye didn’t look at her. She simply dug her fingers into the sand and let the grains slide through her fingers. She could still feel the warmth of Lucy’s skin under her palms, and she could hear her breath catch when Lucy laughed too brightly.
“That wasn’t the plan,” Skye said. “The winner of the first impression lei isn’t supposed to get the first one-on-one date. You know this. The audience knows this.”
“Who cares? Don’t tell me you weren’t happy to see Lucy.”
“That’s not—” Skye stopped herself. Her jaw tightened. “That’s not the point.”
“No,” Marla said, her voice softer now. “The point is, it worked. You opened up a little. Got more comfortable. People want to see that.”
Skye pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth. “People want to see a fairy tale. You want a show. No one actually cares if the bachelorette hates every minute of her life.”
There was a pause. The wind kicked up and lifted a curl of Skye’s hair that had slipped from her bun. She didn’t fix it.
Marla pushed herself up, one hand on her knee and the other clutching her cellphone. “Are you heading up soon?” she asked, nudging her chin toward the path that led to Skye’s bungalow. “Don’t forget we’ve got that group date in ninety minutes. You still have to get to makeup.”
“I didn’t forget,” Skye replied, glancing back at the ocean. “Just need a few more minutes.”
Marla nodded and then trudged off, heading toward the path.
Skye watched her go, her silhouette swallowed by the deepening blue.
She sighed and sank back on her elbows, letting her shoulders relax for the first time all day.
Not that she had that much time to relax.
Tonight was a group date, a late dinner out on the villa’s deck, and she still had to shower, pick an outfit and head to hair and makeup.
But right as she shifted to brush sand off her calf, readying herself to stand up, something caught her eye to the left. It was a flicker of movement where there shouldn’t have been any.
She squinted and placed her hand at the top of her sunglasses to act as a shade, even though the sun had already gone. From where she was sitting, it looked like a person wading out in the shallows.
Skye squinted harder and sat forward. She gave a really good look, far too curious for her own good, and then she blinked.
It wasn’t simply someone out there in the water. It was someone naked. Entirely, undeniably naked.
She sat up straighter, her heart thudding against her ribs. Judging by the curve of the waist and shape of the breasts, which was a dead giveaway even in the fading light, the person was definitely a woman.
Who would be skinny dipping here? Right off the side of production, like they didn’t have a dozen cameras tracking their every move.
The woman moved a little deeper, past where the waves broke, and then suddenly, without hesitating, she dove under.
Skye held her breath. One beat. Two. Three.
Then a head broke the surface again, moving closer toward Skye, and the woman let out a laugh that carried across the water. It was a laugh that was all too familiar, a laugh that Skye could pick out in a lineup of laughs.
“Fuck,” Skye whispered. “It’s Lucy.”
But she didn’t look away. On the contrary, Skye couldn’t tear her eyes off the woman. Her eyes were glued to the smooth line of her back as she arched out of the water, the slope of her breasts, and to the dip where her spine met the flare of her hips.
She should turn away. Certainly, she should leave before Lucy spotted her, but for some reason her feet weren’t moving, and her mind was racing to scenarios: Skye running into the surf to where Lucy was, her hands skimming Lucy’s bare stomach while their mouths met.
Or Skye wading into the ocean just far enough to meet Lucy, her fingers brushing Lucy’s bare hips as if by accident, and Lucy not flinching away, just tilting her head, smiling as she said, ‘Took you long enough.’
“Come on, Red,” she muttered under her breath. “Get control of yourself.”
It worked. The self-talk was all she had needed to get her mind at least temporarily out of the gutter. And so, she shifted her position.
If she moved slowly, carefully, then surely, she could make it to the cobbled path without anyone knowing that she had full-on stared at Lucy skinny dipping. Least of all Lucy.
She pushed up onto her feet, and then softly yet quickly brushed her hands off on her shorts.
She turned and paused but didn’t dare look back at Lucy in the ocean.
And then she bolted. Not a full-on sprint, but a fast walk that was basically a run.
Her head was down. Her bun was loosening, and hair was spilling onto her shoulders.
One of her sandals was beginning to slip off as she half-jogged toward the path.
She almost made it when a voice suddenly called after her.
“Skye!”
Shit. Skye froze mid-step, one foot halfway on the path, the other halfway out of her shoe.
“Is that you?” Lucy whispered.
Skye turned slowly.
Lucy stood only a few feet away, dripping wet and very much half-naked with nothing but a white towel slung low around her hips. Water glistened across her bare shoulders.
And suddenly, Skye had no idea where to look.
Water trailed down the curve of Lucy’s bare chest. Her breasts were flushed from the cold, the swell of them barely concealed by the angle of her arms. For a split second, Skye’s gaze flickered from the soft dip of Lucy’s stomach to the dangerous line where the towel clung to her hips.
For a moment, she imagined what was behind the material.
Did Lucy have a landing strip, or was she as smooth as a seal?
She wondered a lot of things. Which was highly problematic.
Skye cleared her throat loudly and looked down.
“I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t see anything,” she said, staring at the ground so hard her eyes burned. But where else could she possibly look without running the risk of gawking?
“Don’t worry,” Lucy said, dropping her arms, revealing pink nipple peaks that would make any woman weak at the knees.
Skye included. “I’m not embarrassed. Well, not about showing my body.
I was embarrassed about getting to twenty-eight without ever skinny dipping, so I guess I made up for that now. ”
“You know you’re not allowed outside of the red flag zone,” Skye said awkwardly, still looking down. She had no idea what else to say. Lucy, who was half naked, soaking wet, and entirely unbothered, was standing three feet away with moonlight licking across her skin.
Lucy stepped a little closer, and Skye flicked her gaze up just in time to see the towel dip a little lower.
She shuddered.
“Then I guess we’ll both have to keep our mouths shut, won’t we?” Lucy hissed.
Skye swallowed hard for what felt like the tenth time in the last five minutes. Oh, hell. How was she going to get out of this? How could she possibly tear herself away when this felt like an invitation?
Wait. Was it an invitation?
Because it sounded like one. It looked like one.
The smirk on Lucy’s lips, the way she tilted her head and lingered, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, jutting out her hip.
Exposing herself like that. It all certainly appeared to be a wide-open invitation.
Skye’s brain short-circuited trying to calculate the odds of this moment being innocent versus orchestrated.
Or maybe she was overthinking it. Many women were comfortable enough with their bodies to walk around naked in public spaces. Obviously, Lucy was one of them.
“You do realize what this is, right?” Lucy asked.
Skye shook her head slowly. What was this?
“I broke the rules,” Lucy replied, still smiling. “Apparently, I’m not supposed to go past the red flags, and that’s exactly what I did. So, all I want from you is a promise that you won’t rat me out.”
Skye nearly laughed, out of relief, out of nerves, out of disappointment. Or maybe some unhinged combination of all three. Lucy wasn’t trying to seduce her; she was simply trying not to get kicked off the show for skinny dipping in the no-go zone.
“Right,” Skye muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “You want me to lie.”
“Not lie,” Lucy said sweetly, stepping forward once more. “Just omit.”
The towel stayed miraculously and maddeningly in place. And a part of Skye, a not-so-small part just south of reasonable thought, was disappointed. Okay. Fine. Deeply disappointed. Because frankly, the space between her legs was throbbing. Her clit was about to spontaneously combust.
She exhaled and kept her gaze on Lucy’s eyes.
She didn’t focus on the drops of water sliding down Lucy’s chest. Nor did she let her gaze linger on the soft curve of her hips.
And she certainly didn’t pay any attention to that damn smile, the one that said, I know what you’re thinking.
I know you’re imagining me completely naked.
And maybe Skye was. Which was exactly why she had to get out of there.
Now.
Skye turned toward the path, already sure that when she got back to her room, she’d strip off her clothes, fetch that pocket-sized vibrator she’d stuffed into a sock and buried at the bottom of her suitcase, and press it to her clit.
That would release the pressure that had built up over the last few minutes.
After that, she’d probably take a scalding hot shower, hoping to melt the thoughts of Lucy, of her breasts, the swell of her waist, and that smile, away into a puddle of nothing.
But then fingers brushed against her wrist. Lucy’s fingers. “Running away again?” she asked.