Page 23 of Return to the Island

14

Juliet

I met him at the marina an hour later.

“Dress casual. Bathing suit, cover up. All clothing optional,” he laughed with a shrug. I smiled at his playfulness, but I still didn’t know what to bring so I overpacked. My flip-flops flapped down the dock as I found the slip after directions from the harbormaster.

Tack stepped out from the underbelly of a large catamaran, and I paused when he saw me. He wore another T-shirt and a different pair of board shorts. The baseball cap was gone.

“Hello beautiful,” he said, jumping off the boat deck onto the dock.

“Wow, this is something,” I said, eyeing the ocean-ready catamaran. This was much larger than our double-outrigger carved from a fallen tree.

“Welcome aboard,” Tack said, a smile in his voice as he stepped forward and kissed my cheek. I blushed like a schoolgirl at his sweetness. He stepped back and swept a hand to the gangplank, following me up the ramp.

“Carlos, this is Juliet,” he said, introducing me to someone dressed like an authority, with a sailor-type shirt and white shorts. Carlos was very island-looking, with chocolate skin and dark eyes. He saluted me before reaching for my hand to shake. His smile was friendly as he greeted me. “She’s precious cargo,” Tack added.

“All set?” Carlos asked Tack, and I was pointed toward a seat as another man pulled up the gangplank and caught the ropes anchoring us to the dock. We puttered steadily out of the holding slip, but picked up speed quickly as we cleared the short bay.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve prepared a stop for us before we reach our final destination. The first one is not far from here, so just get comfortable. You have a suit, right?” I tugged at the strings hanging out of my tank to confirm that I followed his orders. The motion was noted and a crooked smile formed on his lips.

“What?” I snipped without harshness.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he said. My heart pattered faster in my chest. I was excited to be with him, too. I’d let Miller know where I was going, as far as the information I had—I was spending the day with Tack. He didn’t seem to mind after all, having made his own plans for snorkeling with Tom and Mike.

Tack directed me to a cabin below deck, where I placed my bag. He stopped me before I could climb the steps again and kissed me. Both hands placed on my jaw.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” I giggled.

“For today.” His thumbs caressed my cheeks.

“We haven’t done anything,” I laughed.

“Yet,” he amended before kissing me again.

Returning above board, he led me to netting between the two large outriggers slicing through the sea. Directing me to sit, I stared out at the open water as we rounded the island. The crystal-clear liquid gave off a turquoise cast. The beach, reflected with white sand, was peppered with people. Tack sat next to me and spoke.

“We’re headed to Turtle Beach, a place to swim with the sea turtles. I don’t know how many we will see because it’s almost breeding season, but I thought it would be a cool experience.”

I sat up straighter and clapped like I was a little kid. “I’ve never swam with sea turtles before.”

His hand rubbed up my back and cupped the nape of my neck. He kissed my shoulder. “I’m pleased to do this with you, then.”

Reaching the bay, we jumped from the catamaran to the cove to snorkel. Tack was attentive, as I had reminded him I wasn’t a great swimmer. “I remember,” he said and my heart skipped a beat again. We’d snorkeled together in his own little bay by the island, but we couldn’t go deep with only one snorkel unit.

The sea turtles were incredible, floating gracefully beneath the surface. I didn’t want to get too close, disturbing their natural habitat, but their splendor and beauty astonished me.

“This is incredible,” I said to Tack, and my reward was his full smile. Face glistening with water, eyes alight with pleasure, his mouth opened and exposed white teeth.

“So are you.” We returned to the boat, where lunch was produced. Spicy fish tacos topped with crunchy coleslaw was the most delicious meal, complimented with the island specialty—rum punch.

“You know, it really is a sin to look that good,” I said eying him across from me as we ate. He’d removed the T-shirt and the board shorts, revealing a pair of black European swim shorts. He looked like a tropics model.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” he said, his green eyes the brightest I’d ever seen as they roamed over my body in my yellow bikini.

“Abby’s pretty,” I said, my voice falling a little. Tack set his taco on his plate as his expression faltered.