Rescuing Her Seal(10)

None of which stopped her from blurting out, “You’re mad at him for quitting.”

He flinched, his expressive face professing the affirmative. “Nah. He’s entitled to live the life that makes sense to him.”

She didn’t call him on the lie because it wasn’t exactly. Obviously, both were true and he hated the conflict. Transfixed, she watched him smile, but it didn’t erase what she saw in his expression. Or the burning desire to dig through her bag for her camera.

Eventually, she was going to have to pull it out. The whole point of this trip was to shake loose the ability to take a decent photograph of a live subject. She wouldn’t find a better one.

But honestly? Photographing him scared the mess out of her. Oh, she didn’t mind fantasizing about it; what he’d look like, how he’d turn his head, what she’d tell him to do in order to get that smolder out of him.

Fantasy was not reality. What if the pictures didn’t come out like she imagined in her mind? What if that was the moment when she realized she sucked, she couldn’t take her career to the next level, and nothing she could do would fix it?

“We’re heading for Green Cay,” Jack shouted over his shoulder as he steered the boat across open water. “Trying to beat all of the others is a trick and a half.”

“Is that the goal?” Fitz yelled back over the rush of the wind.

Seemed like they should have spent more time strategizing before they’d tried to have a conversation at one hundred and eighty-seven miles an hour. But what did she know?

“Yeah. First across the finish line with all ten of the items wins.” Thora’s hair had lost some of its style as the wind tore it apart, which meant Lilah’s must look like a bird’s nest.

But the sun was bright, and the cloudless sky nearly matched the beautiful blue of the water. Land masses rose in the distance like green elephant backs in a row, and behind them, Duchess Island disappeared at a rapid clip. Beautiful. Especially with the man in the foreground. Maybe she could take a picture of both, all casual-like, with the excuse of needing a memento.

She’d probably drop her camera in the water trying to sneak the picture instead of just outright snapping it. If Fitz didn’t already think she was hopeless, that would surely do the trick. So she sat on her hands.

She tried to relax as suggested, but she couldn’t decide which was more uncomfortable, the squared-off cushions that lined the back of the bench seat or the heat being generated from Fitz’s thigh, which bounced a mere inch away from hers. The man had boundless energy, a thousand expressions, and rock-hard pecs.

What was she doing here?

The boat slowed and Jack cut the motor suddenly. “Let’s regroup, guys.”

“Good idea,” Fitz shot back wryly, his voice ringing out in the sudden silence. “I’d love a better rundown of the plan. How did you know to head toward Green Cay, for example?”

Jack shrugged. “I heard some guys talking about heading there.”

How did Jack even know where Green Cay was? Did he have a map? GPS? What if the navigation system stopped working or all the satellites failed due to a solar flare? All at once, the risks involved in this whole enterprise snuck up on her and clenched her heart in a death grip.

There was water everywhere. All the way to the horizon, all the way around their very small boat.

While she’d been angling for an excuse to take pictures of a pretty man, the realities of being in the middle of vast ocean had escaped her. Until now. There might be hyperventilating in her future.

Fitz glanced at her and leaned in until their shoulders bumped. The contact sang through her, coalescing in a spot south of her rib cage. For God knew what reason, that centered her. Sweet, precious air filled her lungs.

“Wanna hold my hand again?” he murmured.

Yeah, she totally did but not under the watchful eye of Thora, who’d make a federal case out of it for sure. Plus there hadn’t been a whole lot of decision necessary earlier. He’d practically ordered her to do it as they’d walked across the beach to the dock, leaving little room for argument. “Before was only because the sand was hard to walk in.”

“Uh-huh.” He nudged her shoulder again, letting his linger and provide a solid sense of comfort that she appreciated more than she could ever say. He jerked his chin at Thora as she and Jack swiveled their seats to face the back of the boat. “What does the clue say?”

Thora handed him the square card with black letters, and he held it half in his lap and half in Lilah’s so they could both read it. Wash your hair 112 times at the shore.

“What the hell does that mean?” Fitz grumbled.