Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
TRISTAN
As Lexi comes in from the bathroom, I try not to ogle her.
In Miami, she was always in shorts and some nondescript T-shirt.
Now she’s wearing a yellow dress with pink hibiscus flowers, thin straps, a cupped bra top that gives her hot-as-all-fuck cleavage, and a fitted middle I want to squeeze so badly.
And it’s short. It’s perfect for an island like this.
Jesus Christ. I’m in trouble. “Good shower?”
“Better than Heathrow.” She comes to a standstill in the middle of the room with her arms folded over her chest. That move presses her breasts up more, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think babes was being a cocktease.
I look away. “Thank God. There’s hope.” This has the potential to get crazy awkward.
At Evan’s place, we each had our own room and navigated the shared living areas like civil roommates when we bumped into each other.
There’s going to be none of that space here.
I point to the coffee table where her gin and tonic is sweating. “Your drink.”
“Thanks.”
I’m still unpacking my things but have scouted for electrical sockets and a place to set up shop. There’s a small writing desk in the room, but clearly this isn’t an office space.
Problem is, I don’t want to set this up anywhere else on the island as I’ll be working on this project on the side.
Nobody at Beaumont knows, and I think I should keep it that way.
The project is the primary reason I’m here, not the dive center and keeping guests happy.
Not being upfront with Beaumont isn’t how I like to operate, but it’s too late now.
In my enthusiasm, I also failed to consider the legal ramifications of filming at Ne’emba.
It’s tricky, what with Beaumont having the only diving rights.
Thing is, it’s underwater footage, and nobody’s going to know.
At minimum I should have run it past someone, but this whole shebang happened so quickly, it had spun out of control before I realized what I’d signed up for.
Now I need to deal, as Lexi would say. Zero options.
The only honest thing I can do to keep my integrity intact is look out for Lexi and make sure she gets what she needs out of our time here.
“We could move the kitchenette.” Lexi takes a sip of her drink. “I can’t see us using it much, and there’d probably be enough space for your computer.”
I stand from where I’ve crouched as I stacked my things in a line along the floor.
At least the cornstarch exploded only in one side pocket.
It helps with the process of getting into a wetsuit.
Now a fine dusting patterns the floor, though I’ve mostly wiped it away. “Everything’s made it in one piece.”
“Good.” She walks around the room, taking in the space.
It’s very different from the luxury places I’ve been to with my dad or mom.
Some seaside resorts are so disconnected from their surroundings, you might as well have stayed in a high-rise hotel on Times Square.
Here every detail whispers island life. The interior and exterior sofas—sleeping option A and B, respectively—are in sandy creams, but littered with brightly colored throw pillows for a very African feel.
The splashes of color are playful and unpretentious.
The mosquito netting around the bed gives the room a romantic vibe without even trying.
It’s a perfect home for an engaged couple thoroughly in love.
“I’m going to check out the beach,” Lexi says as she puts down her drink. She’s barely had two sips. “Maybe you should wait and see before you set up your office? There could be other desk options available that the hotel isn’t using. There might be a separate office you can use—”
“Yep. You’re probably right.” I drag my fingers through my hair.
“I’ll give you space,” Lexi says, and before I can stop her, she’s disappearing down the path that leads to the beach.
I exhale and roll my shoulders. Shower time. And I’m not going to care about wasting the fresh water. Lexi has, after all, had her turn.
We’ve had two days of traveling in close quarters, and I need to get her out of my system while she’s out of the house. Lexi has always been under my skin, in that can’t-touch-this way that comes with being my best friend’s younger sister.
Problem is, when we did cross that line five years ago, she’d wedged a part of her under my heart. Fuck, it hurt. Still does, like that thumbnail that you banged in the door, still pulsing pain hours later. Now it’s as if my whole being has become that bruise, conscious of her every move.
I’m going to have to get a grip. Three months. It’s only for three months. What with the shit ton of work I have to do, steering clear of her should be a breeze.
When Lexi is still not back an hour later, I push down my annoyance.
I’m worried about her. Who knows why, because where’s she going to go?
But it turns out not having her attached to my hip in a strange place gives me a weird churning in my stomach.
I’m dressed in chino shorts and a white button-down with rolled-up sleeves.
I don’t bother with shoes and head out to where she disappeared toward the sea.
As the path opens to the beach, I pause.
It’s breathtaking. The sun is dipping low, and with the clouds packed together on the horizon, the sunset is phenomenal.
Orange and pink hues beam down on the sea, scattering a reflection of shimmering gold on the water.
The wind has picked up, sweeping the afternoon’s tropical heat away with it.
It’s the perfect time to be out on the beach.
I spot Lexi where she’s settled on the sand some distance away, her hair now dry and dancing in the breeze. I cross the wide stretch of sand. “Hey.”
She looks up with a soft smile. “Hey.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“I’m exhausted.” She looks to the ocean again. “Can’t get enough of this view, though. If we get fired tomorrow, it will have been worth it.”
“It’s spectacular.” I sit down next to her. “And nobody’s getting fired.”
The boat we came in from Pemba is bobbing in the water, and now there are two rubber dinghies floating next to it. Out toward the horizon, I spot a couple of white sails catching the wind. “Those must be locals going out to fish in the night.”
“It’s a crazy privilege to come work here.”
“Yep. For both of us.” I glance at her. “Did you explore more?”
“No. I spotted a few couples walking around the island, and they’re setting up for dinner on the beach about three hundred yards away, beyond that bend. I didn’t want to stalk around. Not yet, anyway.”
I chuckle. “It’s almost time for us to meet with Miriam and Don.”
“Yes.” She sighs. “Three months of faking it is going to be tough.”
“Unless we make it easy on ourselves.”
“How?”
“Dunno. Solely focus on the end goal and what we’re both gaining from being here?” I sigh. There’s no other way I’m getting through our time here. “Let’s make it through tonight and get some decent sleep.”
We both stand, and as she shakes the sand from her dress, two people come around the bend. Don and Miriam wave at us.
“Show’s on,” I say as I reach for her hand.
I feel the hesitation in her grip, but give her fingers a warm squeeze. “In public, this is all we have to do to sell our engagement.”
She squeezes my fingers back. “Okay. Nothing more. Ever.”
“Yes.” It’s as if we’ve covered the whole awkward room situation with these few words, but I know we’re still pretending. This situation has stirred up our complicated past like silt, and now I can’t see anything else.
Either way, this is it. If we can fool Don and Miriam, we can fool anybody. And these two will be leaving soon enough. Once our only link to the Beaumont head office is gone, things will be smooth sailing.
As we close in on Don and Miriam, they smile. “Manage to take a nap?” Don asks.
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Best to soldier through this jet lag until we can go to bed.”
“So true.” Miriam is by Lexi’s side. “We’ve set you a table with the rest of the guests. We thought it would be nice for you to have at least one night of the Beaumont Ne’emba Island experience before we hand you your uniforms in the morning.”
Lexi smiles. “That sounds dreamy.”
“It is,” Miriam agrees. “Tomorrow morning, if you’re up to it, I’ll run you through our basic day here, introduce you to all the staff, get you kitted out in the Beaumont uniform, and then see what you need from there. From what I’ve seen of your résumé, you’ll be quick to catch on.”
“You’ve seen my résumé?” Lexi asks.
“We’ve seen both of your résumés,” Don says with a smile.
“You’re going to be fantastic additions to the staff.
We’ve had too many dive masters coming and going, and the staff are restless.
Guests aren’t happy with the service, and it shows in our reviews, so I’m afraid you’re going to have your hands full. ”
“We’ll swing it around,” I say, as Roger’s surly attitude comes to mind. I squeeze Lexi’s hand where it’s nestled against my palm. Hopefully the problem is mostly with the dive center, not the rest of the staff too.
“Beaumont is lucky to have you here. Even if it’s only temporary,” Don says.
We round the bend, and I catch my breath. Wow. Wow. Wow.
All along the water’s edge, tables for two have been set, each some distance apart for privacy. A line of lanterns hanging from poles curve along the water’s edge, while white tablecloths stir in the breeze.
“It’s stunning,” Lexi marvels. “Just beautiful.”
“Yes. We try to make it as special as we can here in the last outpost for folks who trust us with their dreams,” Miriam says. “Although most of our guests are loaded, for some people coming to Ne’emba, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. We don’t mess with that.”
“And with what Beaumont charges,” Don adds, “expectations are high.”
“For sure.” Lexi looks at me, her eyes wide.
“You’ve got this,” I assure her.
“Can we get you a drink?” Don asks as we make our way up the wide stretch of sand to the general guest area.
This is the first time either of us has seen the lodge, and like our cottage, it’s earthy but spectacular.
Similar high and overlapping A-frame roofs cover the communal spaces.
Several cushioned enclaves create privacy for people to sit in the shade, and there’s a fully covered dining area where they can serve meals when it rains.
There’s a beach bar on hand, but farther in, I spot a bigger bar area with colorful liquor bottles on display.
“What would you recommend? Do you have a house cocktail?” I ask as I let go of Lexi’s hand.
Don nods. “That we do. Two of those coming right up.”
He walks off to the beach bar, and Miriam indicates for us to follow her to where waiters, dressed in chinos and white shirts, are getting ready for service. “Might as well start introducing you now.”
We’re dunked in a whirlwind of names and smiling faces with a lot of hand shaking in between. Miriam then takes us to the kitchen where we peer in. One chef, one sous-chef, and two assistants later, my stomach is growling from all the delicious smells.
“You know we’ll probably have to redo all these introductions in the morning,” Lexi says as we walk out to meet Don, who’s holding our cocktails.
“Yeah.” My jet-lagged brain screams for a break. “I’m a bit fried.”
“Not to worry,” Miriam assures us. “At least they know who you are and can help you going forward. The staff here are lovely, except when strangers step in short term like they’ve done with the dive center. There’s been an undercurrent of dissatisfaction for weeks now.”
Don and Miriam are painting this too pretty.
Miriam’s earlier comment about the dive center already sounded a warning bell.
For all we know, we’ve stepped into a ship with a mutiny on our hands.
But if there’s trouble on the ground, surely we’re supposed to know?
They could have told us something during the interview process…
or not. This sounds like they have a revolving door of people coming and going.
This Beaumont gig could have another side to its very shiny coin—one we may not be ready for.
“I’m sure we can figure it out,” Lexi says as she takes her drink from Don. “Cheers!”
I raise my cocktail to hers, but as our gazes meet, it’s clear Lexi’s read between the lines too. I can see worry sitting shallow in her gaze, and those frown lines between her eyebrows etch deep.
When we sit down at our romantic table for two ten minutes later, within a lick of the waves at our feet, she looks up to me with a grimace. “How well do you know your way around boats?” She swallows as she leans closer. “Do you think we could build a raft and row to Pemba if we needed to escape?”