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“It’s true. It takes balls to be able to do half of the stuff you do. I was lecturing a bunch of rowdy preteens in a muggy classroom while you were out getting your cave diving certificate.”
I flush cold at the memory of being in that black water, nothing but a tie-off to a guy I had only known for a handful of days and a tank of air strapped to my back keeping me alive.
“Cave diving scared the living hell out of me, Sparrow. I can confidently say that most of the things I’ve done in my life I’m happy to have experienced. But I could have lived to be a thousand and been perfectly content never having dived into those waters.”
He frowns slightly, concerned. “It was that bad? I don’t think you ever spoke much about it when you got back.”
“That was kind of the point. I thought I knew what I was getting into when I signed up, and while I was doing my courses, I put on a brave face, but even that wasn’t nearly as scary as the real thing. Something about how dark and quiet it was just freaked me out. I chickened out before we made it past thirty feet,” I admit, letting the secret tumble out of my mouth all in one breath.
A laugh bubbles in my chest, and I let it out, my shoulders shaking in my seat. “I’ve never told anybody that before. My dad brags about his daughter the cave diver all the time, even though he almost crapped his pants when I told him I was going to try it. As far as everyone is concerned, I made that dive my bitch.”
“I’m scared of the ocean, Adalyn. Anything that has fins or gills is an immediate no for me. And when you can’t see what’s beneath you? No way. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry. There’s nothing wrong with having fears. If not a single thing scared you, I would worry you weren’t human,” he says, a slight smile tugging at his mouth.
His hand covers mine on the armrest, the weight of it heavy and warm and reassuring. I return his smile and turn my hand so I can squeeze his fingers.
“Careful—keep talking to me like this and I might refuse to return you after we’re done.” With a sudden yawn, I glance out the small window at my side at the endless dark sky. Who knew exposing something about yourself could take so much out of you? “Is it okay if I use your shoulder as a pillow while I take a nap?”
He laughs. “Sure. Just let me grab my laptop first. Do you want me to wake you at a certain time?”
I shake my head, fighting off another yawn. In what seems like one quick movement, he brings his shiny silver laptop out of the carry-on beneath the seat in front of him and sets it up on his tray.
With drooping eyes, I turn my body toward him and snuggle in, not giving a damn about much of anything besides my sudden need to sleep. He smells woodsy, with hints of sandalwood and amber peeking out. It’s like he bathed in my favourite scents this morning.
Naturally, I take a giant sniff while I rest my head on his shoulder and release his hand to wrap my arm around his elbow. He ignores my creepy action like the gentleman he is.
“No, just shake me off if you need to go to the washroom,” I mumble, closing my eyes.
“You got it.”
It takes me a few minutes to fall asleep, but with the quiet tap of his laptop keyboard and the steady rise and fall of his shoulder, I don’t wake again until breakfast is offered in the morning.
* * *
The ridefrom the Madrid airport to our rental is turning out to be a blur of mopeds, old, traditional architecture, and crowds of people who aren’t the least bit scared of walking into the middle of busy streets.
If culture shock is a real thing, I think I’m beginning to experience its effects already.
From the way Cooper is staring out the window of the cab, his head twisting every which way as we move down the street, it’s possible he might be feeling the same as me.
“Everybody is dressed so nice,” I note, suddenly thankful that I didn’t wear a sweatsuit on the plane like Ivy suggested.
There isn’t a single person we’ve passed so far who isn’t dressed like they’re planning on going to a nice dinner. A spark of excitement flares inside of me at the idea of dressing up every day. Clothes are a comfort for me, and getting the chance to show them all off?Fuck yes.
Glancing down at my outfit, I hum in approval. White high-waisted, straight-leg jeans, a pale green top that falls just a centimetre above my waistband with ruffled, short sleeves, and an adorable tie above my boobs. A pair of beige wedges with ties around the ankles and a simple gold chain around my neck finish the look. It’s the closest thing to a sweatsuit anybody will ever get from me.
Cooper hums in agreement, not tearing his eyes off the window. “I like it. Makes it easy for me to dress every day, considering most of the clothes I own are dress shirts, polos, and slacks.”
“Stop flirting with me, Sparrow,” I sigh, waggling my eyebrows when he looks at me, alarmed.
“What? I wasn’t—”
I snort a laugh. “Relax. I’m teasing. Men who know how to dress themselves nicely tickle my . . .brain. That’s all.” I throw in a wink for good measure, already obsessed with making this man squirm.
He makes it too easy.
“You’re going to send me into cardiac arrest.”
“God, I hope not. I haven’t had to use my first aid training, and I’m warning you right now, I don’t remember a damn thing.”
