“Damn right!” Dalton hollered, inciting more laughs from everyone on board, Drea included. Kyle would know that laugh anywhere, and he loved that even over the wind and the water and the voices of the guests on the boat, hers was the one he was able to hear the clearest.
Once they were clear of the marina and out in open water, he cut the engines and let them come to a slow float, bobbing up and down with the waves.
“Alrighty, if you will please turn your attention to Dalton up front, he will go over some safety basics.”
Dalton launched into his well-rehearsed routine, going over the basics of the boat, and just how snorkeling worked. Kyle made his way down to the main deck, headed toward Drea when he heard her giggle in response to a deep voice.
“Convince your friends to get on the boat, huh?” the deep voice said. The voice belonged to some Jersey-shore wannabe who was leaning over the bar, looking at Drea like he’d like to eat her for lunch.
“I’m sorry,” she answered. “I didn’t mean to lie, but it was a little too easy. But, it got you guys up, out of bed, and on the best tour we have to offer!”
He laughed at her innocent act. “That it did, plus I get to spend time with you, and that doesn’t suck.” He winked.
“Sir, we need you to please pay attention to the safety demo. Coast Guard requires it, after all,” Kyle said, cutting the meathead off before he could continue to crowd in on Drea. He gritted his teeth, forcing a smile so that the guest didn’t see the frustration rising inside him.
“Yeah, cool,” he said acknowledging Kyle. Turning back to Drea he said, “then I’ll see you in a bit.”
Drea looked over at Kyle with a quizzical look on her face before returning to organizing the safety waivers all the guests had turned in upon arrival at the boat.
“Friend of yours?” Kyle asked, breaking the silence.
“Not really, we met at the gym this morning.”
“The gym? You hate the gym.” He stood there waiting for her to continue. She made her way through the papers, filing them when finished. “He doesn’t really seem your type.”
“That guy? God, no. You know me better than that. But he hit on me this morning when I was on the treadmill, thinking I was a guest, and I couldn’t help but mess with him. Plus, I figured if it all worked and I got him and his buddies on the boat, they’d be good for some decent tips.”
“Okay, well, if he continues to bother you…”
“He wasn’t bothering me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some rum punch to mix up, to solidify those damn good tips.” She stuck her tongue out at him, as she grabbed the extra-large pitcher from underneath the bar. She already had the four types of juices set out on the bar, so she started to open them one by one with the can opener, pouring in rough estimates of the “right” amount in the pitcher. When she was satisfied with the juice level, she reached for the rum, but it was just out of reach at the far corner of the bar. Drea wasn’t short by any means—her curvy five-foot-six frame did place her on the taller side of average for a woman—but it didn’t make reaching things down the long bar, easy, especially when she had to lean over the counter at the corner. She stood on her toes, grasping for the bottle, just grazing it with her fingertips each time.
“Wanna help?” she asked.
“You don’t need my help, remember?”
“Ugh,” she groaned, walking around the bar to grab the bottle. “You are such a pain.”
“You love me!” he responded, making a heart with this hands. She stuck out her tongue at him again in response, and this time he returned the gesture.
Drea finished pouring the rum in the pitcher just as Dalton was finishing up his well-rehearsed lesson on the finer points of snorkel gear.
“And once you have your life jacket over your head, and the waist strap around your middle, this really long fellow goes...wait for it...between your legs! Just slip it through, clip it in front here, and tighten. Gentlemen, please do not tighten this while sitting down and then go to stand up. Just trust me, it’s not going to end well. Ladies, well, this is your vacation, so tighten it as much as you want!” Laughter rang out across the boat. Drea laughed too, because somehow this joke never got old, even though she’d heard Dalton say it at least once a day for the last three years.
She watched as Dalton started to hand out the life vests, making his way around the boat, flirting with each woman as he went. She didn’t know how he did it, how his cheeks didn’t hurt by the end of the day. He was a walking fantasy, though, to most women—tall, well-defined muscles, with dirty-blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile that Drea was sure had turned many a world upside down. But despite the fact that he looked a lot like Scott Eastwood’s twin, he never seemed to let it go to his head.
Looking to her left, she caught a glimpse of Kyle watching Dalton as well. At least she hoped he was watching Dalton, and not the gaggle of skinny little blondes that were perched up by the netting at the front of the boat, already stripped down to just their bikinis.
Their attention was fully on Dalton, but Drea was sure one smile from Kyle was all it would take and he’d have at least three of them hanging on his every word. At least, for Drea, all it took was that smile. His strong, broad-shouldered, six-foot frame, his square jaw and close-cropped dark hair didn’t hurt either. Oh, and those deep brown eyes. She’d loved looking at him from day one, and that feeling only magnified the closer they became while working together over the years. Her eyes followed as he started his ascent back to the captain's perch, wishing she could follow him up there.
“Now that y’all are aware of how to be safe, let’s get this show on the road. Turtle Cove is about a twenty-five minute ride, so hold on to your hats, find a sunny spot, and let’s roll!”
Once they got out to the cove, Drea and Dalton ushered the guests to the steps at the front of the boat where they could slowly descend into the water, or to the side, where they could jump in. Once they were all in, Drea shed her shorts and tank, righted the straps of her one-piece and grabbed her snorkel.
“Does that snorkel in your hand mean you’re getting in?” dude-bro shouted at her from the water.
“Yeah, for a bit,” she responded, bummed he had noticed. Think of the tips, think of the tips.
Knowing she couldn’t keep him waiting, she put on her snorkel and hit the water. She swam past him, hoping to keep this one hundred percent professional. She was a snorkel guide and he was paying for this excursion. She saw him come up beside her and give her a thumbs-up, so she kept swimming in the direction of the biggest reef in the area, knowing that soon they could be distracted by a portion of the over five hundred different species of tropical fish, and dozen types of coral that were found in the Caribbean. This particular cove was also aptly named since they were pretty much guaranteed to see at least one sea turtle, if not three or four, hanging out around here.
After about fifteen minutes of swimming around, she felt him tap her on the shoulder trying to get her attention. “This is pretty cool,” he said, removing his mouthpiece, as they came up for air.
“Yeah,” she responded, removing her snorkel from her teeth. “It’s my favorite place on earth. You can’t help but be happy here.”