Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
NATALIE
I t was early. The sun peeked over the mountains and stretched its rays to dance atop the waves. I had angry cried myself to sleep before tossing and turning all night. The romantic hangover I was experiencing was zapping me of coherent thought. The alarm on my phone woke me from an unfulfilling sleep, and it had taken me a minute to realize where I was.
Water splashed on my face and finger combed hair pulled into a bun at the nape of my neck was the extent of my beauty regimen. A raffia fedora, simple navy-blue one-piece swimsuit under a pair of long Bermuda board shorts, and a simple T-shirt completed the look. I grabbed a Pepsi from the little shop at the resort before heading down the road.
Dane had booked us for a first-day kayak excursion. His idea had been to do one with the guide, go out on our own sometime later in the week, and then on the last morning of our trip, we’d have enough ocean experience to head out to the Mokulua Islands off the coast. Maybe do a bit of snorkeling.
Adventure and fun were his middle names. Fiscal accountability and responsibility were mine and thus didn’t allow me to let the reservation go to waste. Hazard of my job I guess— numbers, accountability, obligation to the bottom line. So that’s how I found myself at eight a.m. at the edge of the water, ready to get a rundown of safety procedures and expectations from a very handsome man.
“Okay, it is go-time, my eight o’clockers! Gather round for a little spiel before we get out on the water.” Our instructor cupped his hands to his mouth as he made his announcement and motioned for those of us awkwardly standing around to join him down by the water. He was medium height, definitely worked out by the looks of his strong arms and tight chest, and had dark brown hair that was sun-kissed. He had a short, trim beard that hid his jawline, but I was pretty sure it was chiseled. Everything else about him was.
“Welcome to a morning of kayaking here in Hawaii with Island Water Sports. I’m pretty sure there is no better way to start your day than on the water. My name is Joel, and I’m going to be your guide. My associates helped drag the kayaks down here already, so our first order of business is for everybody to grab a paddle, make sure your life vests are securely strapped, and then pair up by a kayak.”
I froze. Everybody had come in twos. Whether it was romantic couples, girlfriends on a fun vacation, families . . . this was the kayak tour arranged for partners. Glancing at the kayaks confirmed they were all tandem.
Awkward.
I took a long sip of my soda while contemplating backing out and quietly leaving. The lounge chair at my bungalow was calling my name anyway, and a quick mental calculation determined I could still order breakfast from room service if I hurried. I twisted the cap on the bottle, shuffling backward when Joel called out. “Do you need a partner?”
All the other kayakers stopped prepping and looked at me.
“I was just going to leave.” I could feel the embarrassed flush creep up my cheeks.
“No! No, don’t do that! I’ll have one of the guys take my single back to the shop, and we’ll use this double. Not a problem!” He grabbed his walkie talkie off his cargo vest to ask for assistance before I could argue.
I walked toward him and stopped in front of the kayak he had motioned to. He clipped the walkie back on and pushed his aviators up his forehead, looking at me. His emerald eyes read my face for a moment before he spoke.
“Have you ever kayaked before?” He wasn’t judging. He was curious.
“Yes, but mostly on rivers and lakes. So I mean, it’s okay, I can just leave. I didn’t realize this was the tour for pairs.” My offer sounded weak even to me.
“Let me ask you this: do you want to kayak today?” Again, he was curious.
I thought about this for a brief second. Did I want to spend the next nine days wallowing alone in my room, doing nothing but working through emotions and hiding from everything, or did I want to do things and get my mind off of what my next chapter of life would look like? Definitely the latter. The latter would also save me from binge eating all the things. Last night’s mango and pineapple were long gone, and I had plans to order that platter again as soon as I returned.
“Yes, I do want to kayak today. But I get the front seat.” I smiled, giving him a teasing challenge.
“Straight forward. I like you.” He held out his hand. “You got it. I’m Joel Thompson. It’s nice to officially meet you?—”
“Natalie Reddington,” I replied, reaching out to meet his open palm.
His hand enveloped mine. It was warm and not as calloused as I would have assumed for somebody who paddled regularly. I took him in—he was tan in that way that said he was a local who wasn’t outside all day long but definitely got out as much as he could. And when he tilted his head just right, his nose appeared slightly crooked in a curiously attractive kind of way. We were close enough I could even smell a woody floral musk with a hint of coconut. A small jolt and a skipped heartbeat caused me to let go first and reach over to grab a paddle.
Hmm, I thought. No. Stop. He’s being nice because I’m a client, and that is his job. I’m clearly in a weird rebounding headspace.
I checked my life vest and pulled my hat snug on my head before turning to him. “Ready?”
He nodded and turned to address the group, going over a few safety measures and the route we would take from the beach and across the breaking waves to a small, nearby island that housed a bird refuge. After answering a few questions, he made sure everybody was ready to go, and we launched our kayak first.
I paddled hard, loving the feel of the wind against my face. Kayaking was something I had done often, and I was decently good at it. Water sports were the only sports that came naturally to me. Dane and I had kayaked together before, though only once on the ocean. This tour seemed more introductory than we would have needed, but I didn’t mind. Dragging and dipping the paddle on the left side, right side, left side, right side, my movements were fluid. Intentional.
Or so I thought.
“What are you doing up there?” Joel called out.
I turned my head over my shoulder. “What do you mean? I’m paddling.”
His voice was calm and kind, but loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the kayakers around us. “What you’re doing is not paddling. Slow it down. You need to backstroke. Like this.” He demonstrated by dipping his paddle farther into the water and pulling back behind him, which in turn propelled the kayak forward. Then he switched sides and did it again. “You’re going too fast and keeping the paddle too much on the surface. We will never get anywhere at that rate. ”
While I said nothing in return, I did as he instructed and felt the difference in our kayak gliding efficiently across the water. The clear, warm ocean gave way to random schools of fish below, plunging into and playing peekaboo around the dark coral reefs. As we bounced along, sprays made it over the bow, drenching me. Even though it was morning, the early July humidity and consistent paddling made the soaking a welcomed reprieve. A few kayaks over, I heard somebody call out in excitement about a turtle.
Joel slowed down our kayak while others steered themselves over to catch a glimpse of the majestic creature before he swam off.
I took the break to turn my body around fully and face him. “You probably get tired of this, don’t you? Same routes, same kinds of tourists, same excitement over something you’ve seen a million times.”
“I only do this on Saturdays, actually.” He glanced toward the group. “It makes me happy to be a part of people experiencing nature like this. Did you want to go over and try to see it better?”
“That’s okay.” Sea turtles might be my favorite animal, but I had seen them before and had all week to see them again. “Those kids look pretty happy, though.” I turned and watched as a family with two kids squealed in delight when the turtle continued to surface.
“They do look happy. It’s my favorite part of the job. Question . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I thought you said you’ve kayaked before.” He scrunched his nose at me.
“I have!” I waved him off but met his eyes and gave him a half smile. “Though, thanks to you, it has come to my attention that Dane must have always pulled the weight and let me think I was contributing.”
Joel’s laugh was the most welcoming sound. Nowhere did it come across as him laughing at me and my lack of skills, but rather pure enjoyment of the overall situation. Which was really rich, since earlier I’d definitely come across as overly confident in my abilities.
“Who’s—” he started, but was interrupted by a kayak overturning. “Are you guys okay over there? Red, turn around, we have to go check on them.”
I looked around to see who he was talking to. He caught my eyes and motioned with his chin for me to face forward again, repeating, “Reddington, Red, turn around. We need to go check on them.”
His ease in using a nickname for me after just having met caught me off guard. But I didn’t hate it and probably would have stopped to think about what not hating it meant if we weren’t needed in that moment. Refocusing, and this time in sync, we paddled over and helped the two women right their capsized kayak and climb back in. After assuring us they were fine, everybody turned back on course, and we made our way to the bird refuge.
The sun beat down, drying me almost instantly. Eyes closed, listening to the lapping waves over the sounds of happy tourists, smelling sweet plumeria mixed with what promised to be a very tasty hamburger place nearby. It was a good moment. My arms were spent from working hard to prove myself worthy of sitting in the front seat of the kayak. The tour turned out to be enjoyable, and while Joel and I never really got another chance to talk, I was glad to have stuck out the morning.
The beach’s fine white sand scattered onto my towel, and right before I laid into children for carelessly running too close to me, I felt somebody sit down. Cautiously, I moved the hat off my face and peeped open an eye.
“Joel.” It came out as a question more than a surprise. Self- conscious of being seen in just my swimsuit, I quickly pulled a coverup from my open bag and threw it on.
He methodically peeled a banana, took a bite, and then looked at me. “Hi. Is it okay if I sit here?”
I wasn’t sure. I mean, I was planning on wallowing a bit.
However, the rebound part of me fancied him staying.
“I suppose,” I teased.
“I feel like we didn’t get to finish talking. That group had a lot of questions,” he mused.
They really did. They wanted to know everything about the bird island, then everything about every facet of the ocean. Impressively enough, Joel knew most of the answers. The ride back to the beach was quick when a race broke out between all the kayaks in our group. After hauling everything back to the shop by the beach, people grabbed their belongings from the provided lockers and dispersed to their next adventures. Disinterested in going back to an empty bungalow, I grabbed my bag, towel, and book, heading back down to the sand to relax.
“You know, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you’re kind of a know-it-all.” I propped up on my elbows and stared him down.
A slow grin climbed up the side of his face. “My mom has always told me the exact same thing.”
I laughed. “But seriously, who just knows that sea turtles can lay up to a hundred eggs at a time? And that they can swim up to twenty-two miles an hour if they’re scared?”
“A sea turtle biologist would,” he said matter-of-factly, taking another bite. “Impressive that you remembered. Most of what I say probably goes in one ear and out the other despite the polite head nodding that goes on.”
“How long have you been doing tours?” I grinned, pleased I’d impressed him.
He calculated in his head before responding. “I’ve been here about two years now. ”
“What do you do when you’re not sharing all those facts with tourists on a Saturday?”
His lips ticked up. “I work for a pharmaceutical company.”
“Do you like it?” I sat up and brought my knees to my chest, turning my head to face him while we spoke.
“Most days it’s pretty good. I like educating doctors and ultimately helping patients get the best care they can. It’s like any job, though, and has its ups and downs. What do you do?”
“I’m the VP of contracts and charitable giving for a luxury toiletries company,” I said.
He took that in, then gave the same confused look I often received when stating my job title.
“Bliss by Banks, the company I work for, was founded by my boss, Thatcher Banks, about forty years ago. He created a line of luxury toiletries he sells to hotels—mostly boutique and small chains in the metro Portland area. You know, shampoo and conditioners, bodywash, and lotions. He is kind of a pioneer in the environmental toiletry world with all of our products being sourced locally and dye free.”
“And what exactly do you do there? Charitable giving?”
I continued, rattling off my talking points I’d given for years. “Yeah. I am part of the team that finds these little local places—inns, bed and breakfasts, small mom and pop chains—and we not only sell our product to them, but we create a partnership with them to help the local community through charitable giving. Gives the hotel good press, gives us good press, the community gets groomed trails or a new bookmobile—something like that—and guests get our great product. Wins all around.”
“That seems intense and rewarding. But you don’t exactly sound like you like it.” He noted this, again making me feel like he actually wanted to know my thoughts. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around why he was invested in knowing anything about me, though.
“It’s not that I don’t like it. I just feel like I’m always chasing the next promotion. I started out at the bottom of my division at the company and kind of made my way up to where I am. The only thing left is president of the department, which, as I’m saying this aloud, makes me sound really whiny. I get that. But truth be told, I’m starting to think there may be something else I’d rather do,” I admitted. “I turn thirty this fall, and lately I started to wonder what’s next? If I ever make president of our department, then what? I ride that out until retirement? Fight for other jobs at other companies, having proven I can do it well at one company? Where do you go from there? Can I live forever where it rains nine months a year? But do I want to uproot my life again and figure out a new city?”
Just hearing myself confess that shocked my system. Mostly because I just admitted something very personal to a stranger. And also because for the past seven years, I’d given up way too many nights and weekends going to more parties and events than I could count, all in the name of networking for Mr. Banks. My actual social life had been shot, and my job took a toll on my relationship as well. My whole trajectory since college had been focused on becoming the president of contracts and charitable giving. Secondary, it appeared, had been dating Dane with the intention of marrying him. Now I no longer had the second piece. Like the domino effect, I started to wonder if I wanted the first part anymore either.
“Hm,” Joel pursed his lips together a moment. “What would you like to do instead?”
I let out a chuckle. “That’s the thing. Until very recently, I hadn’t even considered changing career paths. So I don’t know. Yet.”
Polishing off the banana and tucking the rolled peel into the outer pocket of his backpack, he got to his feet. “I hope you figure it out. The island is a good place to do that. Hey, look—I have to go take out the next tour in a few minutes. But I actually came over here to see if you wanted to go get something to eat later? I get off at four. And now that I asked you, I’m starting to realize that is weird. I don’t even know who you’re here with.”
I stood to meet his eyes. “Do you ask out all your solo-kayak clients?”
He was clearly uncomfortable, thrusting both hands into his pockets and squirming from one foot to the other. “At the risk of sounding cheesy, you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to see again after a tour.”
Everything about him screamed utter sincerity, from my first encounter hours before, to now. Despite a reputation of always believing the worst in people, I couldn’t help but view Joel differently. I couldn’t even put my finger on why. Something about him made me feel like if I never saw him again, I would always remember this moment with disappointment in myself for not taking a chance. Before I could respond, static emitted from his walkie talkie.
“Hey, Joel, your next group is all checked in. Are you coming?” a female voice asked.
He unclipped the two-way radio from his vest and put it up by his mouth. “Yeah, Maya. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Those green eyes never broke their gaze at me as he spoke. Without looking, he replaced the walkie and waited patiently for me to answer his question.
I picked up my towel and shook it out, giving him a simple response. “Okay.”
“Okay . . .” he let it hang.
“Okay. I’ll let you show me the best fish tacos on the island,” I told him, folding the towel and putting my unread book in my bag. “I don’t just mean decent. I want to be blown away.”
He grinned at my challenge. “You got it. I’ll meet you at Bob’s.”
“Who is Bob?” I stared at him.
“Not a who. It’s a little place. Bob’s has the best fish tacos. I promise.”
“Give me your phone,” I demanded, holding out my hand.
Without skipping a beat, he complied.
“I’m agreeing to meet you for food at a place called Bob’s, which you claim will change my life?—”
“I never once said it would change your life, but they are the best,” he contested, laughing.
“What I heard promised was life-changing fish tacos. Regardless, I just put my number in your contacts. Text me the address and the time.”
As I handed the phone back to Joel, our fingers gently brushed against each other. Instinctively, I pulled my hand back. Probably too quickly, and I noticed he looked almost hurt at my reaction. If only he knew that until last week I had been wrapped up in one man, and it was weird to accidentally touch another. Especially when that slight touch set off a sense of excitement and electricity.
Hopefully, he really thought nothing of my behavior. Either way, I tried not to read into it, as he didn’t say another word while we walked back toward the parking lot. He picked up his next tour. I made my way to my jeep. I waved goodbye, and right before I put the car into drive, my phone buzzed.
Hey, Red. Does five thirty work?
He dropped an address that I immediately saved to the Jeep’s GPS before responding as I saw him leading the next group down to the shore.
Perfect. Enjoy the turtles for me.
Immediately, I saw three dots.
They’ll miss you.