Page 31 of Fake Coral and Keys

“I thought you just hadn’t been on a small boat.”

“Yeah,” he says, moving away slightly. “That’s what I meant.”

“You haven’t visited the Keys?” I thought he’d said he’d just never visited this resort. Maybe I heard him wrong or just assumed he’d been here.

“We didn’t travel much,” Blake says. “My dad wasn’t exactly the traveling type.”

“No?” A weird sensation pricks the back of my neck.But, wait?Didn’t he say his father often traveled for business and was rarely around?

Blake catches my eye and his brows knit. “I mean for vacation.”

I nod absently, digesting his words. Something doesn’t sit right with me. But what do I know? The only real things I know about Blake are physical. He’s got an amazing body. Hehacks computers that protect investors’ money. He has amazing lips and knows exactly what to do in the bedroom. He’s sweet and hints at being slightly obsessed with me, which I refuse to admit I like. A lot. Other than the surface stuff, I know nothing about him and he knows quite a bit about me.

What does that say about me?

It says I don’t want to know him. It’s safer that way. No attachment, no feelings, right? Even though I don’t like to admit I’m using Blake, that’s all I’m doing. But I made that perfectly clear, didn’t I? Sex. A fake relationship. No strings and no commitment.

That wobbly feeling in my belly gets stronger as a tinge of guilt washes over me for not knowing anything about his family. Heck, for not even asking. I’ve been so selfish, focusing on what Blake can offer me, that I haven’t bothered to ask much about him. What a self-centered jerk I’ve been.

“What about your mother?” I ask, the real me, and not this superficial, fake version I’ve been for the last few days, taking charge. “You have never mentioned her.”

Blake glances away. “My parents divorced early. My mother wasn’t in my life.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, not liking how the happiness evaporates from his expression.

Blake plasters a smile on his face. “It’s okay. I survived.”

“Any other siblings?”

He shakes his head, glancing back at the boat. “Just me.”

“Did your father ever remarry?”

His back stiffens, and he blinks a few times. “No,” he says, still looking at the boat. “Should we head back? We’ve been out here for a while.”

His demeanor has shifted so radically that the guilt I felt a few seconds ago has turned uncomfortable. I guess Blake doesn’t like my prying. “Sure.”

I turn and start a lazy swim back to the boat, floating on my back, kicking my feet on the surface, and watching Blake swimming behind me. He grins, and my belly flutters. He’s given me that same grin before he’s pressed me to the bed and had his way with me. Right when I open my mouth to tell him that I can’t wait to return to our room, needles of sharp pain wrap around my ankle and radiate up my leg. A throaty, shocked scream tears out as I reach down to swipe at my ankle. Pain shoots through my fingertips, and I cry out again.

Blake bolts up from the water, his eyes wide, then grips my arm, pulling me towards him. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tryingto get me to stand.

“Something has stung me!” I shriek, the pain getting worse by the second. I lose balance and sink low in the water. Fighting the tears, I resist touching my ankle again and hold my now stinging fingers up above my head.

“Stung?” Blake’s brows knit in confusion, then his face clears and he wraps an arm around my waist, looking down at the water around us.

“I think it’s a jellyfish,” I cry. “Be careful.”

Blake looks around us, pulling me up and lifting me from the water in both arms. I drape my arm around his shoulders, holding on tight and trying not to touch him with my injured hand. I’m suddenly glad he’s wearing that damn rash guard I cursed this morning. Leathery blue tendrils float nearby, and Blake splashes them away and moves us back.

He looks at me, his face a mask of concern. “Are you okay?”

I nod, clenching my teeth at the fire burning around my ankle and crawling up my leg. I lift my leg out of the water and see a long red streak across my ankle. “It hurts.”

He glances at my leg, then kisses the top of my head. “Keep your legs and arms out of the water, so you don’tget stung again.”

In the time it’s taken Blake to carry me to the boat and place me on the swim deck, small red blisters popped up along the red line on my ankle.

“Something has stung her!” Blake calls out to the Captain.

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