“I know I’m crossing a serious line here when it comes to guests and their privacy, but it makes me so upset to see someone as young and lovely as you so… burdened. What can I do to help?” Irma asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Today she wore flowing purple, and her hair was woven into a braided crown. She couldn’t have looked more like a queen if she’d tried, Sam thought.
“Nothing, really. It’s kind of you to care. I just need to let go of some stuff, I guess.” Samantha shrugged a shoulder.
“What are your plans for the day?” Irma asked, changing the subject, which gave Sam a chance to breathe. She was worried that if she talked about how much her parents hurt her – and continued to hurt her – she might cry for days. And what kind of vacation would that be?
“I haven’t even gotten that far, to be honest. It’s been a rough morning,” Samantha said.
“Why don’t you have a nice little breakfast on your balcony and meet me in the garden in a bit? Put on your suit. I’ll show you a pretty spot for an adventure,” Irma said, passing by without touching her or offering a hug. She seemed to sense that Sam would have balked at the gesture. The last thing Sam needed to do was sit in her room and sulk all day on this beautiful island, so she turned and mustered a smile for Irma.
“That would be great. Thank you. And thanks for bringing the towels and the fruit. I’ll be down in a bit.”
“Put on your new suit. It’s time for a new Sam.”
What was with these women at the Laughing Mermaid, Sam wondered as she unwrapped the mango slices and sipped a cup of coffee on her balcony. Curling her feet under her, she watched as one of the parrots from yesterday flew to a tree nearby and cocked its head at her.
“You think you’re getting a piece of my mango?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at it.
The parrot squawked, hopping from limb to limb until it teetered delicately on the side of her balcony, its eyes intent on her plate of mango.
“I don’t care how pretty you are,” Samantha lectured. “If you swoop down here and take my breakfast without asking, you’ll be dinner.”
The bird squawked again, this time fluffing out its wings as if to tell her to chill out.
“And here I am taking my anger out on a poor parrot,” Samantha sighed. Untucking her legs, she cut a sliver of mango for the bird and leaned over to place it on the edge of the balcony. Sitting back, she waited.
The parrot eyed her coolly.
“Oh, all right then. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say I’d cook you for dinner. You can have some mango,” Sam said. That was it, she’d definitely gone over the edge into crazytown if she was having full-on conversations with a bird.
The parrot hopped its way down the balcony and delicately took the mango before flying back to the safety of a tree branch. Oddly pleased at its reaction, she cut off a few more scraps and left them on the balcony ledge before going inside to dig through her bag of new clothes.
Maybe Irma was right – could it be as simple as that?
New suit, new Sam.
It was worth a try.
Chapter 18
It was just a bikini, Sam told herself. Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, she scanned her reflection. Charlene had been right – red was a good color for her. Granted, it would look a bit better if she’d gotten herself a spray tan, but there wasn’t much she could do about that now. Maybe later today she’d read her novel and catch a little sun to add some glow to her skin.
Otherwise, Sam thought it best not to look too long in the mirror. She certainly couldn’t claim the curves of Jolie or Mirra, but she looked fine in the bikini, she decided. Just fine. Before she could talk herself out of wearing it, she wrapped the matching red sarong around her body and grabbed her beach tote, sailing from the bedroom and down to the garden.
The little side path that led to the palm garden and out to the beach was dappled with artwork and twinkle lights, and today Sam took the time to stop and examine as she went. Behind one palm tree a metal shark statue lurked; from another, bright blue glass fisherman balls hung in nets, and pretty orchids poked out from some brush. Lace-looking lanterns hung from a plumeria tree, and twinkle lights were strung about in no particular order. It should have been messy, but for some reason the total effect was charming and cozy.
Sam wished she could decorate like this – with a touch of whimsy. Instead her downtown condo was done up in cool grey tones, all soothing and precise and gently pretty, but not a touch of whimsy to be found. Sam resolved to find some cool art while she was here and have it shipped back for the big empty wall over her low-slung leather couch.
She stopped suddenly when she saw Lucas talking to Irma down by the water. Shit, shit, shit, she scolded herself, couldn’t she have wrapped her sarong higher on her body? They both turned her way before she had a chance to do so, and it would look weird to stand there and stare at them while fumbling with her sarong, so Sam soldiered on. Don’t be such a nervous geek, Sam lectured herself, and plastered a smile on her face as she approached. You’ve been kissed before. You’ve had sex. For god’s sake, you’ve even been engaged. Act like a grown woman.
“Good morning,” Lucas said, his teeth flashing white in his tanned face.
Sam promptly tripped over her feet in the sand, and Irma caught her arm to steady her.
“Flip-flops in the sand – never a great idea,” Irma said, smoothly covering Sam’s embarrassment by nodding down to her sandals. “Most of us go barefoot around here as much as we can.”
“Good idea,” Sam said, bending to slide her shoes off and toss them by a chair.
“Lucas here was kind enough to lend us his kayak. I thought we’d go for a paddle and explore,” Irma said brightly.
Sam gulped, looking out at the wide expanse of ocean in front of them. “Out there?”
“Unless you planned to kayak in the pool?” Lucas laughed at her and Sam realized she was being ridiculous.
“Of course out there.” Sam waved at the water. “It’s just so… big.”
“We’ll stay close to the shoreline,” Irma smiled. “I promise to get you home safe.”
“Um, sure. What should I bring? What do I need?” Sam asked, looking down into her tote.
“Put your hat on.” Irma gestured to the rolled straw hat that stuck out of her bag. “Sunscreen and that’s it. Leave everything else here.”
“Will it be safe?” Sam asked, worried about her wallet and iPhone in her bag.
“Perfectly. The girls are home,” Irma smiled.
“Or I can watch it for you,” Lucas said. “That way you’ll have to come see me after your paddle.”
“I mean… whatever works,” Sam said, feeling a little breathless as she lost herself looking at his chest.
“That’s right kind of you, Lucas. Why don’t you carry that for her,” Irma immediately decided, and set off down the beach.
Lucas grabbed the straps of her tote, gently tugging until she let them go, and slung it over his shoulder. An involuntary giggle slipped from her at the sight of the bright pink pom-pom bag on his shoulder.
“What? Is pink not my color?” Lucas asked.
“It looks great on you,” Sam laughed.
“As does that suit. Red sure is your color, Sam,” Lucas said, his gaze lingering on her bikini. Sam felt her whole body flush and she tripped again in the sand. Mortified, she looked out over the water, surprised to find another sheen of tears hitting her eyes. Why did everything have to be so tricky for her?
“Bring that sultry thing you do down a notch or two, Lucas. Can’t you see Sam needs to take it slow?” Irma demanded, and Sam decided that her humiliation was officially complete.
“It’s fine. Really,” she stammered.
“I have taken it slow. Didn’t I leave her at her doorway last night with a chaste kiss? That was very gentlemanly of me,” Lucas countered.
Sam opened her mouth, but Irma overrode her.
“A woman like Sam needs to be swept off
her feet. You can’t just leer at her and make her blush,” Irma said.
Okay, now her mortification was complete.
“But I like how pretty she looks when her cheeks flush pink,” Lucas argued right back.
Did she look pretty when she blushed? No one had ever told her that before.
“There’s plenty of time to make her blush,” Irma said as they arrived at his dock.
“And trust me, I am more than excited to take that time and do so,” Lucas said.
Sam’s face and body flamed in response.
“See?” Lucas said, and surprised Sam by bending over to brush his lips over her cheek. “Beautiful.”
“Um, thank you. I’m not, I don’t need…” Sam took a breath. “Okay, forget it. I’m a mess right now. Irma is right. I may need time. But usually I’m really a capable adult who can walk on her own two feet and form sentences and lead boardrooms full of high-level executives. I have no idea where that person is at the moment, but I promise you, most of the time I have my shit together.”
“See? She’s a ballbreaker. She doesn’t need you to defend her,” Lucas laughed at Irma, reaching over to tug on her braid.
“Everyone needs someone in their corner,” Irma said, then turned toward the kayak tied to the dock. “Ready, Sam?”
Sam eyed the kayak balefully. A two-seater, it was shiny yellow and rocked gently in the turquoise blue water. She briefly wondered how a death trap could look so innocuous and then shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“Ever been in one of these before?”
“On a lake once, ages ago.”
“Keep your balance in the center. Lucas, help her in,” Irma said. She’d already tossed her purple caftan onto the dock and Samantha was shocked to see her rocking a decidedly tiny purple bikini, along with several stunning tattoos that entwined themselves around her legs, up her sides, and across her back – mermaids and fish and flowers galore.
“Wow. I was not expecting you to have tattoos, for some reason. They’re beautiful,” Sam said, following her waist-deep into the water.
“Always keep people guessing, Sam,” Irma smiled at her across the water – such an open and genuine smile that Sam found herself grinning right back.
“Can I be you when I grow up?”
Irma tossed her hair over her shoulder and laughed.
“I’ll let you know.”
Chapter 19
Lucas watched them go. In her slip of a bikini, Irma deftly steered the kayak out, her braids tumbling down her back. Samantha sat up front, timidly dipping her paddle in the water, the large sunhat and slash of her red bikini painting a pretty picture.
He couldn’t seem to stop himself from flirting with Sam. She dimpled up and blushed so delightfully every time he nudged the line of flirtation with her. He grinned as he thought about her stammering at the door last night and how he’d shocked her with a kiss. Lucas hadn’t planned to move so fast with her – it was clear as glass that this woman needed time – but she’d been so flushed and awkward that he hadn’t been able to help himself.
Lucas walked to the deck of his villa and deposited Sam’s tote bag on one of his black-and-white striped lounge chairs. The bag was funky and bright, nothing at all like the woman Samantha presented herself as. He wondered what else he would reveal when he unwrapped the package.
It had been a long time since a woman had piqued Lucas’s interest like Sam did. Perhaps it was because he recognized so much of himself in her. The lips that tightened too quickly, the hunched shoulders and tense demeanor – he’d been exactly the same when he was overworked in a job that had ultimately made him unhappy. It had made him a lot of money as well, as being a hedge fund manager can if one was good at it, but after a while he just wasn’t up for the lifestyle.
The guys at the office thought he was insane. They’d had the best of it all – entrance to all the hottest clubs, VIP seating at the restaurants, beautiful women lining up to be with them. In theory, he’d won the game. He’d been on top of it all.
There’d been no reason for him to visit Siren Island when he first had. At the time, it was just one of those things you did when you had too much money – book a trip to an exotic locale with a group of friends and beautiful women. They’d chartered a plane, and as soon as it landed on the tiny island most of the group had started complaining about how hot it was and when were the cars arriving to take them to their rented villa.
But not Lucas. He’d been on a window seat at the back, headphones on and looking out the window when they’d landed. The plane had veered sharply over the cliffs at the end of the island where he could just make out a statue of a mermaid jutting out of the rocks. It had made him smile – the first real smile he’d had in ages, for something so simple as a pretty stone statue of a mermaid on tiny Siren Island. He might have lost his heart to the island in that moment.
That week had been fun, but this time Lucas had abstained from most of the partying and spent his time exploring the island solo. He rented a Jeep and went to the cliffs on one end of the island, and took a snorkel tour with a local guide on the other end. After one look at the colorful world that greeted him beneath the water, Lucas had vowed to become scuba-certified. That time in the water – the first time in years that nobody could talk to him or had needed anything from him – had been the most peaceful and meditative time he could remember. When they left the island, he had been determined to come back.
In a weird way, it had become a bit of an obsession of his. Sure, many people talked about retiring and moving to an island one day. But he actually did it, and far earlier than retirement age. It had been the loss of one of his partners – a good friend – that had done him in.
He couldn’t say he’d been expecting the call, but it hadn’t been all that much of a surprise either. Lucas still remembered it – crystal clear. He’d been standing at his office window, watching a spring storm roll over Lake Michigan when the phone had rung.
“It’s Jack,” another partner, Richard had said, his voice scarily toneless.
“What happened?” Lucas had pinched his nose, and hated the memory of what he’d said next. “We don’t have to bail him out of jail again, do we? I’m getting sick of calling in favors to our lawyers.”
“He’s dead, Lucas. Overdosed at the party last night.”
Lucas had dropped the phone, watching as lightening lit up the sky, and all he could think about in that moment was running away – away from it all. The pressures of the job, the pressures of keeping up appearances, the hard-partying lifestyles of the young and wealthy he hung out with. If he’d ever had an angel on his shoulder, it was the one that kept him from ever being interested in putting a drug up his nose.
And so he’d buried his friend, quit his job, and moved to an island. Alone.
Sure, he was lonely at times – though he often found more comfort in solitude than he did in being around people. Maybe he had some post-traumatic something going on from the intense social life he’d used to live. He’d had a fling with a woman or two who had passed through the island on holiday – he was human, after all. One of his more adamant ex-girlfriends had even made her way down and tried to convince him they belonged together. But he’d found that this life suited him, and she had quickly realized that without a Nordstrom and a Starbucks nearby, she just wasn’t interested.
It had taken him a year or two before he’d finally relaxed and gotten into the island rhythm. He’d learned that things got done in their own time on the island, and that was that. It always worked out eventually. When Lucas had first discovered this villa was for sale, he almost didn’t come by to take a look. It was a little further from town than he’d thought he wanted at the time. But, thank goodness, his realtor had pushed him into taking a look. Not only had he discovered his own little paradise, but it had come equipped with the most unique set of neighbors he’d ever had the privilege to know. He’d made many a new friend through the years living near their bed and breakfast, and he a
lways enjoyed helping out the ladies of the Laughing Mermaid when they needed it.
Sam wasn’t the first woman they’d nudged Lucas toward – or perhaps had nudged toward Lucas. But this one seemed different. Either because of the way she intrigued him or the way Irma was looking out for her. Protective. In almost a motherly way. Irma did love her wounded birds, Lucas thought.
Lucas wanted to peel back her layers and figure out what made her tick. Samantha was a ball of emotions – one moment she was fiercely learning to drive a stick shift and tearing off into town on a whim, and the next she was blinking back tears after a fairytale mermaid story. She was like a young colt, learning to walk for the first time. Jerky, skittish, and still excited about seeing the world.
He wondered if he would eventually get to see the real Samantha Jameson. If she trusted herself enough to just be.
Lucas hoped she’d show herself to him. Because he was fairly certain he was already well and thoroughly hooked.
Chapter 20
“It seems pretty calm,” Sam said, relaxing marginally as they paddled slowly along the coastline, with no particular agenda in mind. This was nice, she realized. No tour company to tell her when to be back and nothing for her to be back for. Imagine living a life with this much freedom.
“It’s a perfect day for a paddle. The trade winds are low and there’s relatively little current. We’ll have a nice easy time of it,” Irma said.
“I can’t get over how clear the water is. You really can just look straight down and see fish swimming around.”
“We’ll head out toward the reef by the cliffs. It’s tricky to get to with bigger boats, so it’s hardly fished – you can see loads of sea life there,” Irma said. She guided Sam on how to paddle and they turned the boat toward the cliffs at the curve of the bay.
Once they were in an easy rhythm, again in no particular rush, Sam let out a deep exhale. This was certainly better than sitting in her room sulking over another tough phone call with her parents. It wasn’t like they were giving her a passing thought, aside from perhaps checking their emails to see what flight she was coming home on. Because, of course, they would assume she’d follow their directive.
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