“Right, people!” A happy-sounding guy dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with the resort logo claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention, cutting off whatever shite I was about to say to West. “Good morning! I’m Aden, and over there is Zaim.” He points to the other guy, dressed in the same clothes as him, who is standing by the boat. “Zaim is our boat captain, who will take us to the beautiful reefs. We will both be your guides, here for whatever you need, and I very much hope you are all enjoying your first full day with us. Now, it’s time for us to get started. Would you please head over to the hut?” He points to where West and I are standing, and everyone’s eyes volley in our direction. “Where Kayden and Mahmoud are waiting to fit you with a snorkel, goggles, and flippers. Once you have them, please board the boat. Once everyone is on, then we can be on our way to see the beauty that the Maldives has to offer.”
This guy sounds just like the brochure that got me to book this place.
And bonus: West and I are first in line to get our things, thanks to him standing right by the hut.
“You stood here on purpose to be the first in line,” I murmur to him as we head inside and are greeted by the happy, smiling faces of Kayden and Mahmoud.
His eyes flicker down to me, a secretive kind of smile touching those full lips of his. He gives a slight shrug. “I’m not the kind of guy who is ever last in line for anything.”
Oh, I bet he’s not.
“Hello! You are Mr. and Mrs. …”
“Oh, we’re not—” I start to say, but I’m cut off by the deep sound of West’s voice.
“Oakley. Mr. and Mrs. Oakley.”
I’m sorry, what?
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Oakley!” The guy beams. “You are a very handsome couple.”
“Yes, I’m a very lucky man.” West slings his big arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, giving me a squeeze.
And me? Well, I’m just standing here, mouth open in utter shock. Because apparently, I just got fake married.
seven
Dillon
With my bright pink matching snorkel, goggles, and flippers in hand—Kayden was insistent that I have the bright pink because, apparently, it’s my color, although I’ve always thought red suited me better—I walk back out of the hut, West walking silently beside me, and I have about a hundred and one questions about what the heck just happened in there bursting to come out of my mouth.
The instant we step out of the hut and pass the line of our fellow islanders, we’re ushered onto the boat.
I climb aboard with the help of the man already aboard the dhoni. The words I want to say to West burning on my tongue. West climbs aboard behind me.
I quickly walk to the back of the boat and sit down. West strolls toward me like he has all the time in the world. I give him an expectant look, and all I get in return is a grin.
The second he sits in the seat beside me, I jump on him. Figuratively, of course. “Um, what the hell was that?”
He gives me a look of innocence. “What?”
“Um, Mr. and Mrs. Oakley ringing any bloody bells?”
“Bloody bells?” He gives me an amused look.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Why did you tell that guy that we’re married?”
He shrugs. “Just seemed easier to go with it than explain that we’re not together.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed and flabbergasted. “I’m sorry, what?”
“He thought we were married. It seemed like a lot of effort to explain that we’re not. Sometimes, it’s easier to just go with the flow.”
“You mean, lie.”
He laughs a deep sound, and it annoys me that my body reacts to it. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
“Well, it is a lie. So, I’ll definitely be calling it that.”
“Honestly, I thought I was doing you a favor.”
I round on him. “You thought what?”
“You seemed uncomfortable about being here alone, and I just thought I was helping.”
Oh. Well, that takes a little wind out of my sails.
“You’re alone,” I say.
“But it doesn’t bother me.”
“How do you know it bothers me?”
“I can just tell. You give off a vibe.”
“A vibe?”
“Yeah. And also, you made a whole big deal about the fact that you were here alone. You started talking about some movie where a chick sings a song about being alone, and then you said you were gonna change your name to Eeyore or something.”
For.
Fuck’s.
Sake.
I’m never, ever, ever drinking again.
“I, uh … said all that?”
“Yep.”
“Wow. That’s … embarrassing.”
He laughs.
“And I appreciate the sentiment, West. I do. But in the future, can you please not tell anyone else that we’re married or together? I’m sure I’ll live through the ensuing conversations that I’m here alone.”
“Okay, Double D. I will make sure to correct the next person who assumes we’re together and say that we are in fact not.”
“Good. Thank you. And for the love of all that is holy, will you stop calling me Double D?”
“Will do, Double D.”
Ugh.
We sit in silence as the other guests start to trickle onto the boat. West stretches those long legs of his out. He takes up so much space. His thigh is almost touching mine.
I’m so aware of him. Every breath he takes. Every move he makes.
And now, I sound like that song. Which is about stalking.
Great.
“So, is your surname really Oakley, or was that made up too?”
“It’s really Oakley.”
West Oakley.
Dillon Oakley …
Huh. It actually has a nice ring to it.
Whoa there, Fast Love! You’re fresh off one engagement. You definitely don’t need another ring on your finger. At least, not for a long while. So, don’t be getting ideas about the hot American sitting next to you.
“So, I know you’re on this snorkeling trip alone, and you were in the bar alone last night, right?”
“Right.”
“So, are you here on the island alone? Like I am. Or with friends?”
“Just me.”
“You take trips alone often?”
“Not usually.”
“Why this time?” God, I’m so nosy.
His eyes slide to mine. I feel a little jolt inside. “I just needed to get away for a little while.”
I can’t get a read on what the reason might be. I hope he hasn’t been crapped on from a great height by people he cared about, too, and needed to get away from them.
I decide to lighten the mood.
“You commit a crime?” I grin, so he knows I’m teasing.
“Dammit. How did you guess?”
I spread my hands. “It’s a gift. What did you do?”
He sighs solemnly. “I stole my neighbor’s cookies.”
“What flavor were the cookies?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face.
“Triple chocolate. Why?”