Page 46 of Passenger Princess

AVA

"We're so excited to have you here in Florida!" the instructor for the snorkeling business we're highlighting for this stop says. We're all on a large charter boat, part of a locally owned snorkeling business. With us are a few members of the press, Miss Florida, Anne (unfortunately), Jaime, and me.

"Today, we're going to be snorkeling, one of the most popular tourist attractions for coastal Florida. We're going to see some gorgeous fish and coral today. There should be a few sharks out there, but they're a docile variety and shouldn't give us any issue."

Jaime's body goes still briefly, and for a split second, I stop watching the instructor and instead turn to look at him, a furrow on my brow.

His face is stoic and on the speaker, not shifting at all, even as I obviously stare at him. The instructor starts to go through measures for what to do if and when you see a shark, how to stay safe, but I'm too busy watching Jaime to pay much attention. His jaw has gone tight, and some of the color has gone from his face.

I lean in and whisper to him. "You okay? You look like you saw aghost. Or a threat." A chill runs through me at the thought of a threat being nearby and Jaime being freaked out by it.

"I don't like sharks," he whispers, and it takes everything in me not to scoff out a laugh.

"You? You don't like sharks?" I whisper.

"They're a threat I know nothing about and can't control other than staying out of the water. What's there to like about them?"

One thing I've learned about Jaime is his undeniable love for all things predictable. I think it's why I drive him so crazy, why I rub him so wrong most of the time, considering I am theoppositeof predictable. I love spontaneity and chaos and flying by the seat of my pants.

I also love fucking with Jaime.

"They're pretty," I say with a smile, knowing it's going to annoy him. The rush of a win runs through me when he looks at me with a droll expression, though entertainment lies beneath it.

"Pretty things can be dangerous,” he says pointedly and I smile.

“Like me? Am I dangerous to you, Jaime?”

Before he can respond, the instructor claps loudly, a wide, jovial smile on his lips. "Okay, so who wants to be fitted for a lifejacket first?"

I raise my hand instantly. "Me!"

Jaime's jaw gets somehow tighter, and I wink as I turn back to the instructor before pulling off the cover-up and revealing a one-piece bathing suit with no back and a super low front.

"Can you take this big guy?" I ask, handing him the gauzy fabric, then, under my breath, whisper, "You should really stop grinding your teeth. Really bad for your teeth."

When I move to the instructor, I notice he's a cute-enough-looking guy, but compared to Jaime, he looks small. Normally, he'd probably be my type: flirty, with a good smile and longish, sun-bleached hair, but suddenly, his surfer boy look doesn't do it for me.

He smiles wide at me before digging through a bin for the right-sized life jacket, and I joke about how they don't have a pretty one. It'sclear he uses smiles and boyish looks to land tourists, but I'm not falling for it, not as his fingers glide over my arm as he slides the life jacket on or as he buckles it, trying to look into my eyes.

The entire time, I can't help but look over his shoulder at Jaime, his jaw still tight and arms crossed over his chest. He's in a pair of olive board shorts and a tight-fitting black tee, his skin already tan, reminding me I didn't see him put on sunscreen.

"All right, who's next?" the instructor asks, smiling at Anne, clearly coming to terms that his charm is not working on me.

Her hand lifts, and I move, walking on the gently rocking boat back toward Jaime. I slip my flip-flops into my bag, digging for the sunscreen to try and bug him into wearing some, but then a strong tug comes on one of the loose straps of my life jacket, making me stand straight.

"What—"

"He did a shit job. I'm tightening these," Jaime mumbles under his breath, and then mine catches as he moves to his knees before me, pulling himself face-to-face with my chest. His eyes are locked on the buckles of my life jacket, undoing them and then tugging and manipulating the loose straps so they'll be more secure. My hands move to his shoulders as I nearly lose my footing when a finger grazes the side of my breast.

"Sorry."

I don't reply because my breath is inexplicably caught in my throat at the mere, slight touch. I joke that Jaime likes me, mostly because I find it hilarious to push his buttons and his definition of "professionalism," but he's a handsome man. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't into him, and I didn't have more than the occasional inappropriate thought drift through my mind.

"Is this also you not liking me?" I whisper for his ears only.

He shakes his head but doesn't look at me, just keeps his eyes on the straps of the life jacket, untwisting them and making sure it's secure.

"It's my job to keep you safe; that's all I'm doing," he says in a lowgrowl. "That fucker was too busy staring at your tits to make sure you were strapped into this right."

---