Page 59 of True Abandon

Jax puts down his credit card down for the one-hour catamaran rental at a hut on the beach. For someone who wants me to get to know the real him, he certainly is limiting his time.

“Here you go.” He hands me a life vest, and the two of us make our way to the water where the salesman holds the boat for us to board.

Not having any clue how to sail, I take a seat in the center and get comfortable. The man gives Jax a mini-lesson on how to use the small boat and then pushes us away from the sand. There’s an oar-like paddle on the back for steering, and the sail can be maneuvered from left to right—it looks basic enough.

Jax pulls on a rope, and the wind picks us up, pulling us into the bay. The water is relatively still compared to the vast ocean that’s just beyond the break. He navigates the catamaran to the right and further into the cove. The breeze flows through my hair, and I lean on my hands and breathe in the fresh, salt air.

Leaning overboard, I gaze into the crystal blue waters to the reefs beneath. Rainbow fish swim through the brilliant coral, and a sea turtle passes by. I can’t contain my excitement seeing the endangered species.

Jax nestles beside me, and together we watch angelfish with yellow and black stripes, salmon-colored squirrelfish, and a school of these neon fish—neither of us can name—dive through the coral and swim around.

With the hot afternoon sun beating on our backs, we cool off with handfuls of water from the bay. Time escapes me as we bask in the heat of the day and enjoy the marine life.

“We have plenty of time.” He comments out of the blue as though he read my thoughts.

He sits up long enough to remove his life jacket and then sits back down with his arms outstretched and his eyes closed.

“The rules said you have to wear a life jacket,” I admonish.

He doesn’t bother opening his eyes. “I can walk in this water.”

I scrunch my face at him. “What about if we drift into deeper waters?”

“We won’t.”

“We could.”

He pops open an eye. “Then I’ll put it back on.”

With a harrumph, I rise up on my knees and take my own life jacket off.

Jax lowers his brows. “Aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black.”

I sit back down and curl my legs to the side. “If you’re not wearing that stupid thing, why should I have to suffocate?” I wipe away the moisture forming on my neck. “It’s a thousand degrees today.”

“Most people do this is a swimsuit.”

“True.”

The water gently laps around the boat, and the birds chirp in a chorus with the waves. I fill my cheeks with air and then blow it out in a long breath.

Jax just sits there, basking in the breeze. The light stubble on his jaw glistens in the Pacific sun showing the natural, golden strands of his hair—the highlights are what makes the color so unbelievably gorgeous, light weaved through the dark.

I try to get comfortable and do my best to imitate Jax by leaning back on my palms to take in the rays. But the moment of relaxation lasts about sixty seconds before I’m back to twisting in my seat.

The catamaran continues to slowly drift, and we’ve moved further away from the beach and toward the break that leads to the ocean.

“We should head back.”

“Can’t,” he says calmly.

I narrow my eyes in question.

“I don’t know how to drive this thing.”

I part my lips to speak, then halt, confused by what just came out of his mouth.

“You drove us, or sailed, whatever—here—now get us back,” I demand.