Page 29 of Strictly the Worst

EIGHT

LINC

The sun is beating down on us the next morning, as the boat speeds through the sapphire blue water. I’m wearing a pair of swim shorts and aviators, my body warm and glowing. And I’m trying not to smile because Tessa keeps looking over at me then quickly looking away.

I work hard to keep myself fit. Traveling all the time for work is great, but it means I have to eat out a lot. Which means I have to hit the gym a lot more.

Plus I’m vain. And I like to look good.

There are twelve of us on the boat. All couples, apart from Tessa and me. We were picked up at seven this morning and taken to the little pier at the end of the beach, where we climbed onto this boat and were given coconut and melon for breakfast.

Carmichael is sitting next to a couple who can’t keep their hands off each other. I’m pretty sure the rings on their fingers weren’t put on by each other. He’s too old and she’s way too interested in him for them to be married to each other.

Yeah, I’m cynical, but I’m also a realist.

She’s got that stupidly adorable hat on again. And it took us an extra twenty minutes to leave the cottage because she insisted on covering every single inch of her body with factor thirty, while I just sprayed myself with whatever sunscreen I had in my wash bag. She’s also wearing one of those floaty short dresses over her swimsuit. And she’s holding her phone up, taking videos of the ocean, the boat, and the fish that swim up to the surface of the water every time we stop near a shoal.

So far we’ve seen stingrays, barracudas, and something called a drumfish, with black and white stripes that make it look like a relative of a zebra. And every time we look overboard, the woman next to me pushes herself against me. Her name is Maya and her husband has been constantly on his phone as we glide through the ocean. Even in his shorts and white starched polo shirt he looks like he’s in the office.

I guarantee he works on Wall Street. He just has that air about him.

“How long have you two been together?” Maya asks, shooting Tessa an interested look.

“We’re not together,” I say. “We’re co-workers.”

“You came on vacation with your co-worker?” Maya asks. “What does your girlfriend think about that?”

Tessa is pretending not to listen. She’s still filming but her eyes keep darting from the screen to us.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I say, more to see Tessa’s response than anything else.

“You don’t?” Maya asks. “What’s a gorgeous man like you doing alone?”

Tessa clears her throat. I try not to smile. There’s a tightness to her jaw that’s delicious.

Why is it I enjoy annoying her so much? I’ve no idea.

She’s kind of softer than I realized. Yesterday’s filming marathon around the resort was actually more fun than I thought it would be. I’m not used to getting involved in the nitty gritty of a campaign. I mostly wine and dine clients, and when they’re in trouble I get them out of it.

Seeing this side of our work is fun.

“My last girlfriend couldn’t keep up with me,” I tell Maya, and Tessa lets out a huff.

“Sexually?” Maya purrs.

I nod, trying to look sad. “She couldn’t take the pleasure.”

Tessa coughs loudly. Our gazes catch and she’s glaring at me. I shoot her a smile and she rolls her eyes.

“What a silly woman,” Maya says. “But she set you free to find somebody who appreciates your… skills.”

Her hand moves down my arm, tracing the lines of my biceps. And her husband doesn’t even fucking notice.

It’s not like I’m interested. Nor am I looking for a fight, though I’m pretty sure I’d hold my own against Mr. Wall Street.

I’m just wondering why the hell he’s come to the most beautiful set of islands I’ve ever seen for a vacation when all he’s doing is glaring at his phone.

And enjoying Carmichael’s frowns, of course.

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