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“What’s that?”
“A cave.”
“Oh, I saw those excursions. We didn’t book one because Lila was worried about having to carry Rosie.”
“Not the tourist ones. There are those you can only access by small boat.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“Grab a bikini. Something easy to take off.”
My blood starts pumping. “Now I’m really intrigued.”
He kisses my head. “Good. I’ll call in some sandwiches for a picnic. You think you can row today after doing it last night?” He squeezes my arms.
Before I can assure him I can, he says, “Never mind. I’ll row. You sit back and be my motivation.”
“Done.”
We pack beach towels and water bottles and plenty of sunscreen. When I pop out of the bathroom in my yellow bikini, I turn to the side and pluck at the string on my hip. “Easy access.”
Gabe lets out a growl as if he’s going to come for me. I shriek and dash out of his grasp. “You promised cave sex!”
It takes a lot to keep packing and head out. He kisses me by the front door, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
But eventually, we’re flying down the highway on his bike. We turn into a neighborhood of small houses set close together. We cut down a dirt road and I can smell the water again, not as salty and clear, but earthy and damp.
We park among leafy trees and shrubby bushes. Birds flit from branch to branch. A scratchy sound in the undergrowth makes me squeal.
“Are those crabs?” I ask.
Gabe pulls off his helmet. “Not likely. Even during breeding and egg laying, they move mainly after dark. Unless you’re out here with flashlights at midnight, you only see them at dusk.”
“Then what’s out here?”
“Lizards, mostly.”
I uncurl my toes in my tennis shoes.
Gabe stows our helmets and unlatches the basket with our food and beach towels. “We’re taking one of Mendo’s canoes. The cave isn’t far from here.”
We tramp through the leaves until we reach a muddy bank. There’s no sand here, but a silver canoe lies waiting, tied to a metal post with a red nylon rope.
Gabe drops the basket into the center. I step into the end.
He kicks off his shoes and pushes us out into the water. As soon as we’re afloat, he hops inside and picks up a paddle.
I reach for the other one.
“Nope,” Gabe says. “You’re going to reveal that bikini and let me look at you.”
My cheeks warm over. I’ve gotten used to letting him see me, especially after Burr Island. I’ve let my tiny-boob hang-ups go.
“I’m waiting.” His muscles ripple as he paddles us away from the shore and out into the bay.
I take off my shoes and unzip the front of the cover-up.
His eyes never leave me as I shrug it off my shoulders. I glance around. This is a super private area, no beaches, just leafy trees lining the shore.
