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Anybody else in this world as hungover as Jax would have canceled on the donkeys, but not my Jax. She gets up, downs her water, pulls her hair back, and gets ready to go. As a professional model, she’s used to pulling herself together and getting the show on the road, no matter what. “Kayak. Not canoe. And I’m excited you decided to join me!”
I’m already dressed in my yoga shorts and have piled my hair up in a top knot.
Why not embrace the spirit of Jax's advice and be open to adventure? I mean, I'm not going to go looking for someone to father my baby on this island, but on the other hand, if I stay drunk for two weeks, I'll miss a hell of a lot.
"I booked a massage on the beach at Mossy Grove right after it, so as long as we’re back in time, I’m good to go,” I say, referring to the resort’s in-house spa.
An hour later, I’m thoroughly blissed out. Finally, I feel like I’m in vacation mode. All it took was a scenic kayak excursion, intense outdoor yoga overlooking the ocean, and giving serious scritches to some adorable donkeys on the beach at Temple Island. I was curious how donkeys would play into a yoga class; mostly, they wandered around and nuzzled everyone while we were in Downward Dog; and the yogi encouraged everyone to give pets while in Warrior pose.
The only less-than-perfect moment came when our kayak guide had to rescue Jax, who capsized her kayak at the sight of a shark that turned out to be harmless.
I bid Jax goodbye at the dock on Little Loggerhead Island as she wanders off to catch some sun on the nearest beach.
The massage turns out to be a great idea. I am lying, nearly naked, on a comfy massage table just feet away from the surf. It’s wonderful. This masseuse knows her stuff, or it’s been way too long since I had a massage. Probably both.
She remarks how tight my shoulders are, and we chat about what I do for a living. I tell her that I work with horses, which is partially true. I don’t tell her that I volunteer at a therapy horse rescue ranch. I don’t like to advertise to strangers that I don’t have a proper paying job and never had. I dropped out of college and therefore failed to get the expected Mrs. degree. My parents are reluctantly “letting” me take over the family business despite my lack of a husband, but I don’t much care for the family business. Real estate doesn’t interest me.
“Those horses give you a workout. Your back is extremely tight.”
I grunt in agreement, not because I’m rude but because I’m starting to drift off to sleep.
Just as my eyes are about to flutter closed, a tall figure looms in the entrance to the cabana.
“Howdy, Estelle. How’s it hanging?”
Estelle must be the name of my masseuse because as my eyes fly open and I look over my shoulder, I see her smile, shake her head, and wave dismissively at the man.
We catch each other’s eyes, and my stomach sinks. Pilot is interrupting my massage, and he’s wearing a terry cloth robe just like the one the staff gave me. Well, a much bigger terry cloth robe.
“Hi?” I say.
He sees me, and his whole demeanor changes on a dime. He’d been casual and jokey with the masseuse, whom he seems to know well. The look he gives me is something close to horror, which quickly changes to stone. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
I give him a perplexed look. “I’m pretty sure I booked a private massage,” I say.
“I can go.”
Well. He’s clearly not interested in flirting with me, so no harm in letting him stay. “No, it’s fine. I’m about to fall asleep anyway,” I say.
A second masseur follows Pilot into the cabana, and I look the other way as he drops his towel and slides under the sheet on the second table a few feet away. This is oddly intimate, but then again, I remind myself to relax and take it in. This is island life.
Just then, my stomach drops, and my heart leaps into my throat because I suddenly remember something from last night. As I closed the door…did I call him Daddy?
I turn my face back in the direction of the other table. “I feel silly asking this, but I didn’t catch your name,” I say.
“Austin Fisher. And you’re Sierra Kennedy.”
I chuckle. “Good memory.”
“I always memorize my flight manifest.”
The husky way he talks sends a wave of warmth over my back, even though the breeze from the ocean wafting into our cabana feels cool at the moment.
“Nice to officially meet you, Austin Fisher.”
Jax is going to get a big thank you from me later for deciding to sunbathe without me. If she were here, she’d be acting a fool trying to push this Austin Fisher and me together.
