Page 80 of That Island Feeling

I stare at him, eyes wide.

Horror streaks across his face as it dawns on him. ‘Oh, shit, no, not that. I didn’t mean –’

I laugh, carefully manoeuvring myself down. ‘Are you sure?’ I purr teasingly, looking up at him through my lashes, my mouth just a fraction off target. I don’t know where this inner seductress has come from, but I like her.

The board rocks slightly as he squirms. ‘God, Andie,’ he groans. ‘Of course I’m not sure. It’s just that we’re out on open water.’

‘SUP sutra – that would give SUP yoga a run for its money,’ I joke.

‘That would be one way of putting this island on the map.’

‘I don’t imagine Bob would be thrilled.’

‘We’ll pass an island by-law – SUP sutra for everyone! Bob and Beryl are very welcome to partake,’ Jack declares.

We’re both laughing uncontrollably, our bodies and the board shaking like a high-magnitude earthquake. Thank goodness I’m no longer standing, although Jack still is.

‘Come down here,’ I say.

He folds himself down opposite me. ‘Hey,’ he says softly, studying my face like he’s counting my freckles.

‘Hey,’ I breathe, staring into his gorgeous sea-green eyes. They’re the first thing I noticed about him, and even with his sculpted chest in view, they’re still the first thing I’m drawn to.

I’ve become fascinated with eyes over the past decade, mainly because they became a cheat code for how Dad was doing: was he alert and with us, or somewhere else? They truly are the window to the soul, and Jack’s soul is soft, relaxed and twinkly.

‘I can’t wait for tonight,’ I say, my gaze travelling to the dark stubble on his upper lip.

‘Same,’ Jack says, leaning in. But instead of kissing me, he grabs my hand. ‘I thought we could take another boat ride?’

‘Sure. Sounds good,’ I murmur, although I was hoping to hop right back into his bed. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for that.

We stay seated, letting the current take us where it pleases. The breeze caresses our faces as we continue holding hands and drinking each other in.

It feels as though we’ve set sail in our own universe. The notion of being marooned and cut off from the rest of the world is like foreplay. My mind continually drifts to being back in his cabin tonight.

We’re approaching the back of Clam Cove Resort when I spot Hazel ahead of us in a wooden rowboat, distinguishable by her cat-eye sunglasses and red scarf tied around her hair.

‘Hey, isn’t that your mum?’

Jack glances over his shoulder and sighs, shuffling around to face the back of the board. My view is happily obscured by his wide shoulders.

‘Mum! What are you doing out here in that?’

‘Well, good afternoon to you too.’ Hazel pulls up alongside our board. ‘I’m not here to see you, darling. My water telegram is for Andie.’

Jack ignores her. ‘Don’t tell me the motor is out on Billy and you haven’t said anything?’

‘Billy?’ Whoops. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

‘My motor boat, dear,’ Hazel says. ‘It’s tradition to name your boat after your true love. I really wish I hadn’t, though. Not that I didn’t love Billy, it’s just that I only did it because he was always complaining about how much time I spent with my boat. Well, I fixed that problem right up, didn’t I? That’s what you get for being with an island girl. The only problem was that as soon as I named it, the fish stopped biting! You see, there’s an old wives’ tale that says if you give your boat the wrong name, you’ll have bad luck for future catches. Never had any issues with Hannah here, though.’

My eyes flick down to the waterline to find faded blue letters in beautiful cursive spelling Hannah along the side of the white boat.

‘Maybe you need a boat named Jack, Mum.’

‘Like I haven’t given you enough, son,’ she bites back with a grin.

Their easy banter makes my heart ache. Mum and I used to share our own love language, reciting full scenes of our favourite movies, taking a line at a time.

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