Page 21 of The Waiter at Table 6

I glance at the shop. “Uh, yeah, I was thinking about it.” And I’m too curious not to ask, “You too?”

He nods. “I had the day off work, so…”

I hate the awkwardness of this moment. It was so easy with him the night we met, part of me actually wishes we hadn’t slept together, just so there wouldn’t be any of this.

But then he adjusts the sunglasses on his head, and I’m distracted by his arm muscles and sweat-slick skin.

I swallow roughly as I’m assaulted by memories of how those muscles felt under my nails.

Ryder must see the thoughts all over my face, because a slow, self-satisfied grin slides across his.

I expect him to call me out on it, either by teasing me or by taking the opportunity to hit on me, but he surprises me by doing neither.

Stepping aside, he opens the door to the surf shop and holds it open.

“After you,” he says. And there’s that familiar twinkle in his eye when he adds, “The world is literally your oyster today.”

I don’t know if he’s what gives me the extra boost of confidence to walk in, but I don’t question it.

Ryder’s friends are already being helped by the employee. And when they include him in their rental jet ski count, I automatically get folded into the mix.

Our group moves through the paperwork and brief instructions, and suddenly I’m standing in the marina, being fitted for a lifejacket.

My nerves reappear instantly.

Ryder notices, of course. When I put my lifejacket on and fumble with the buckles, he gently knocks my hands away and takes over.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he says quietly. “Say the word, and we’ll go hang out on the beach with a pina colada instead.”

Just hearing him say that makes the nerves dissipate, replaced by the first ripples of excitement.

I take a deep breath. “No, I want to do it.”

Another one of those blinding smiles shines back at me, making every molecule of oxygen I just sucked in whoosh from my lungs. He’s so handsome.

As I smile back, his eyes drop to my lips. And my stomach flips for a whole other reason than nerves.

We’re so close. It would barely take anything to lean forward and kiss him, or for him to pull me in by the straps he’s still holding. It would be so easy to close the distance, to sink back into the comfort of the other night. And based on the heat in Ryder’s eyes, I’m not the only one feeling like this.

I start to lean in, already imagining the feel of his lips against mine?—

Ryder steps back, awkwardly coughing into his fist. “There you go, all secure,” he says, no longer meeting my eyes.

I startle, crashing back down to earth. The rejection hurts, but I’m also not blind to Ryder’s feelings. He did that because I drew the line between us, not because he didn’t want to kiss me. I can’t blame him for that.

To bring us back to normalcy, I grab the handlebar of the nearest jet ski and say, “If I fall in the ocean and a shark eats me, you have to promise to make Sami name a drink after me. I need a legacy in place before I die.”

I love seeing the corner of his mouth twitch with a smirk. “Alright, Miss Dramatic, I promise. Now get on the jet ski. No one’s dying today.” He swings a leg over his own wave runner, making me drool over his effortless state of athleticism. Sliding his sunglasses down with a grin, he adds, “I’ll save my ‘I told you so’ for the end of the day.”

I mount the jet ski with a huff, careful not to touch anything. But with a nod of encouragement from him, I slowly engage the throttle, taking off into the bay. Ryder stays beside me the entire time.

It takes less than five minutes before I’m shrieking with laughter.

“Why have I never done this before!” I yell, dashing across the water. I’m going so fast that the wind against my skin is biting, and I regret not braiding my hair out of the way. I could do this all day long.

Ryder’s boisterous laugh sounds seconds before he comes from behind me and sprays me with water as he takes a turn.

I let out a yelp of outrage. “You did not just do that,” I splutter.

---