Page 55 of Stuck in Paradise with You

I can imagine, on a different day, it’s even more beautiful here, a hive of tourist activity, laughter and rum.

Today, surprisingly, people still seem jovial. Deep bellowing laughs can be heard around the marina from men and women, though many of them are securing boats and premises.

There are two trucks waiting for us – a black one and an electric blue one. Yup, I’m that stereotypical gal when it comes to cars. They move, they have four wheels, I’m going to be sitting on a bench seat in the back, no roof over my head. That’s all I care to know.

One of the truck drivers is Dionne’s brother and the other is Roy’s father-in-law. The decision is made to split the group, half in each truck, and go off in different directions, to get as much done as possible, as quickly as possible.

Henry seems to have been appointed chief weather watcher and he determines we need to head back to Charithonia no later than 2p.m., otherwise we risk the journey being too dangerous. We also need to pitch in with the guys left on Charithonia to tie down and protect everything on Joe’s island as best we can.

It’s going to be a long day but I’m glad of it. Pleased that I can help somehow and delighted to not have dead time on my hands to worry about what’s to come.

I messaged Callum and my mom last night, telling them both that I’d be here for the storm, playing it down as much as I could, lying to them that Joe has basically declared the island a safe haven with a ginormous panic room. But, of course, I had to confess I didn’t know when I’d next be in touch, that the rumors are that the phone lines could be brought down in the storm, and power supplies could be thwarted.

I couldn’t face speaking to them, so I let their follow-up calls ring out. It wasn’t just about the storm. More that my head was absolute mush from the day’s sail, from my declaration to Luke, then the day being rounded off by me being trapped in the path of a mahoosive storm.

My mom must have passed on the message to my dad because, by current count, he’s tried to call me sixteen times since 9p.m. last night.

At this moment, I have a legitimate excuse to bury my head in the sand.

There are ten people – twelve including the drivers – and two trucks. Eight men and four women, so when Jenny and Monique head for the black truck and Dionne to the blue, it makes sense for me to follow Dionne, Glen, Henry and Dave, to even out the sexes. Much like women are from Venus and men are from Mars, women bring multitasking and strategic thinking to a team scenario. Men bring brute strength. Not to typecast but trying to be practical here.

I’m last to climb into the back of the truck. Henry reaches down a hand to give me a tug up. I lift my sneaker-clad foot to the vehicle but before I push up from the ground, I hear a voice I will never fail to recognize, up close behind me.

‘Monique is riding in this truck. You’re with us, Carrie.’

Releasing Henry’s hand, I spin around to find Luke speaking to me but glaring at Henry as the words leave his mouth. In response to Luke’s near growling, one side of Henry’s lips quirk up, like a teenage boy who just doesn’t know when to quit.

‘To balance numbers,’ Luke adds, briefly glancing my way before turning his back on me and going back to the blue ride.

I’ve no problem switching places with Monique; I was only trying to balance the numbers myself, though if I’m honest, I’d rather not spend time with Luke today, or ever again in my life.

The eye roll Monique gives, arms folded across her chest as she approaches me, suggests she got told to change trucks.

I smile apologetically, without knowing why she’s been switched.

‘Honey, you need to put that man out of his misery,’ she tells me, winking as she accepts a hand up from Henry.

25

LUKE

‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t manhandle me,’ Carrie gripes as I hoist her up and swing her onto the back of the Mitsubishi pick up.

‘We’re under a time pressure,’ I tell her, though kind of enjoying pissing her off.

I didn’tmanhandleher, I just picked her up and put her onto the truck where she was going anyway. It had nothing to do with the fact she followed Henry tohistruck, or that Henry keeps flashing her hot-girl-bod smiles and flexing his muscles in her direction. It had nothing to do with the fact that if she’s here in the British Virgin Islands for this storm, I want her to be right next to me at all times, in my eye line, where I can at least attempt to protect her.

‘We’ve got a lot of work to do and you were dilly-dallying.’

She’s sitting and we’re pulling away, but she still pouts at me, her eyes like a scorned cat’s. ‘I was on the other truck already.’

‘Yeah, and Monique wanted to ride with Jenny,’ I lie.

I follow Carrie’s pointed finger as she asks, ‘Jenny, who is sitting right there?’

Oops. Dumbass.

‘Fine. Dionne.’ I roll my eyes as ifshe’sbeing the petulant one, and diagonally opposite me, bobbing up and down on the bench seat as we drive across uneven tarmac and divots in the road, Jenny is fighting back laughter.

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