15. Mad Men, Caribbean Edition…
15
Mad Men, Caribbean Edition…
Mac
Sleeping outside was a bad idea. I mean, it was the smart choice. The safe bet. But also, a terrible, terrible idea. The birds were up before the sun, and they were so loud, it was as if they were shouting at it to hurry up and rise already. I should’ve slept long and hard after all that hiking and the physical exertion yesterday, but instead, my sleep was fitful, restless, and way too hot with dreams that took me all the places I want to go with Paige and ended with us smiling and panting, our naked bodies tangled up in each other.
As soon as I woke, I knew there was no point in trying to get another couple of hours of shuteye. Not with the way I’m feeling. Instead, I got up and got to work, burning off some of the pent-up energy that I’ve got coursing through my veins. I went for a long walk and found some mangoes that need ripening, more star fruit, a coconut, and a couple of passion fruit that look ready. Then I grabbed my fishing gear from the plane and spent the next hour casting out in the bay in front of the cottage, not wanting to be gone when Paige wakes up.
The truth is, I’m worried about her ankle. It looks like a pretty serious sprain, based on all the colors it was turning last night and how swollen it is. It could be weeks before she’s up to walking around on it. I’m also worried about Grandpa Jack. Each day that ticks by is another chance for Violet to tell him the truth, which is not something he needs to hear. I have to find a way for us to get off this island as soon as possible. Otherwise, Paige might be facing some serious health risks without access to proper medical care and Jack might be facing an eviction notice.
I cast out again, releasing the line into the crystal-clear waters, hoping that some hungry fish takes the bait. Behind me, I hear the door of the cottage close and Paige’s voice. “Good morning!”
I turn and give her a quick salute, then reel in the line and hurry up the beach to her. “How’d you sleep?”
“As well as one can when their ankle is throbbing,” she answers with a small smile.
I glance up and down, taking in the sight of her in an outfit I haven’t seen before. She’s in a pair of cutoff jeans with an oversized white linen shirt over a pink bikini top. It’s a good look on any woman, especially her. “That’s too bad. I was hoping the vodka would help numb the pain for you.”
“It did. Well, until it didn’t,” she says, glancing down at the fruit on the side table. “I see you’ve been up for a while.”
“Yeah, I was planning to sleep in but the birds had other ideas.” The birds and my raging libido, that is. My mind floats back to me helping her into the house, then waiting at the bathroom door for her to brush her teeth so I could help her get into bed. The alluring scent of her skin as she leaned on me for support until she reached the bed. The way she looked up at me when she said, “Thank you,” as if she was contemplating asking me to stay. How she licked her lips when she said goodnight. A warning bell goes off in my brain, the one that went off the first time I laid eyes on her. The one that said she’s trouble for a guy like me. My gut tightens a bit and I set aside all those thoughts of getting her naked.
“You’ll have to catch a nap this afternoon,” she says, pressing her fingers to the mango to test its readiness.
“I intend to. Probably in that hammock over there.” I take a couple of steps closer and pick up the fruit. “The mango’s not ready yet but these are.”
“What should we have with them? Pancakes or oatmeal?” she asks, using the wall of the house to support her while she hops to the door.
“I say we go with oatmeal today, for a little variety.”
Once we’re inside, she has a seat at the kitchen table and puts her foot up. “Why don’t I cut up the fruit? It’s at least something I can do sitting down.”
“Sounds good.” I get out a paring knife and a cutting board, then set them on the table for her before going in search of a pot for the oatmeal. The entire thing feels very domestic and a lot nicer than it should. “I was thinking that we can use your unique and extensive knowledge to get off the island.”
“In what way?”
“Well, it would seem to me we’ve got a visibility issue, which for other stranded people would be a problem,” I say, throwing a grin her way. “But since I’m with a marketing genius, I figure we’ve got a leg up. ”
She looks up at me. “As kind as that is, I’d say the biggest problem we have is that there’s no one to advertise to out here.”
“Not yet, maybe, but someone is bound to go by soon, either in a plane or on a yacht.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because we did.”
Paige stops slicing the star fruit. “Good point.”
I offer her a big smile. “So our job is to make sure we’re unmissable when they do.”
Her expression is one I can’t read. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she looks a little disappointed. But that can’t be, because she’s desperate to get back to her real life. She nods a couple of times before answering. “You’re right. That’s exactly what we need to do.”
“It’s our best shot,” I tell her, setting the pot on the stove and turning it on. “Now, the way I see it, you’re the idea person and I’ll be in charge of execution, on account of your ankle.”
“So, I’m sort of the boss in this scenario,” she says, grinning over at me.
I lift one eyebrow. “I prefer partner, but if you need to believe you’re in charge, I won’t argue. Whatever gets that beautiful mind of yours working overtime.”
A few minutes later, we’re sitting down to coffee, oatmeal with some syrup to sweeten it up, and fresh tropical fruit. I found a pad of paper and a couple of pens in a drawer, and Paige is making a list of ideas in between bites. “Okay, so the first thing to do in any ad campaign is to figure out your target audience.”
“Okay,” I tell her, scooping up some oatmeal with my spoon. “Anyone who happens to pass by.”
“Yes, true, but to get their attention, we have to think about what they will be doing when they pass by. What will they be looking for?”
“Us, hopefully,” I answer, popping the oatmeal in my mouth, wishing we had some milk for it.
She laughs, then says, “That’s our best-case scenario. If people are searching for us, we don’t have to do anything because they’ll be looking for your plane. But let’s say someone who has no idea we’re out here happens to be on a sight-seeing adventure on a seaplane or is lounging on their yacht. What will they be looking for?”
“Whales and dolphins.”
“Okay.” She writes that down, then says, “What else?”
“Umm, most of my clients comment on how blue the water is and how lush the terrain is on the islands.”
“All right,” she says, making more notes. “So something colorful would help to catch their eye.” Glancing up at me, she adds, “I know that’s not exactly a ground-breaking concept, but I’m thinking the difference between, say, using palm fronds to make a massive S.O.S. sign, and using some bright red palm fronds could make all the difference. Oh, and ads require plenty of white space to be noticed. So, using a large patch of sandy beach, for example, without having the sign too close to anything else.”
“Gotcha,” I answer, glad to see her so excited.
“Okay, so switching gears, one thing that humans are attracted to are other humans.”
“One would hope,” I say, then chuckle at my own joke.
Paige tries not to laugh, but does anyway. “Yes, one would. What I’m thinking is that since we can’t be on all sides of the island at the same time, we make it look like there are people in other areas.” She snaps her fingers. “Ooh, better yet, people in trouble! There’s nothing that stops traffic like a car accident. ”
“Whoa, dark.”
“Hey, you gotta go with human nature for the win,” she answers, picking up a slice of star fruit and taking a dainty bite.
I watch her mouth as she licks her lips, my body reacting to the thought of that tongue moving across my skin. By the time I snap out of that thought, her cheeks are a bit red, and she’s wiping her mouth with her fingers. “What? Do I have some food on me?”
“No, you’re perfect,” I say, feeling like a total jackass.
“So, why are you staring?”
“It’s just nice to see you all lit up like this,” I answer, which is true, even though it’s not what I was thinking about thirty seconds ago.
We continue brainstorming through breakfast and while I do the dishes. By the time I’m done, Paige is furiously jotting notes. “Okay, if you go out to the shed and take a tally of everything in there, I’ll go to my room and pick out clothes we can use to make some scarecrows, or in this case, ‘attract-crows.’”
She stands up and starts to hop in the direction of the bedroom. I walk over to her and put my arm around her waist, even though I know she can make the short trip alone. “Let me help.”
“Thanks,” she says, placing her arm over my shoulder. She shuffles down the hall while I hold her up to keep her from putting weight on her left foot. When we get to the bedroom, I stay with her until she’s on the bed, then I bring her suitcase over to her and set it down next to her.
“You good here?”
“Golden,” she answers.
“Okay, boss, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I answer. “After I check the shed, I’ll head over to the plane and see what I can find there too. ”
“Perfect.”
I hurry out of the cabin, a sense of optimism coming over me. This is going to work. I know it is. And I honestly don’t know what to hope for—that the plan will work and attract attention right away, or that I can get a few more days, or maybe even a few weeks, alone with her.