Page 47 of Passenger Princess

"Mm-hmm," I say unconvincingly. "Because you don't like me, right?"

"Right," he growls, then stands abruptly, moving to the bin where the life vests are and grabbing one his size.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he comes back, vest in hand.

He tosses it to the seat next to my bag, then reaches behind his back, grabbing his T-shirt and tugging it over his head. My mouth goes dry, seeing the lines and muscle definitioneverywhere.Jesus Christ, no wonder he has to wake up so early to work out—it must take a century to maintain that. He's broad, which I knew, but now I see it's because of muscled shoulders and a strong back, his front dotted with the perfect amount of chest hair.

"If you're snorkeling, so am I."

"Jaime, you don't have to?—"

"My only job here is to take care of you and keep you safe, Ava," he says, cutting me off. "Idohave to."

"But you're afraid of sharks."

His eyes shift to the sky, a move he often does when he's with me, as if I'm constantly pushing him to a point where he needs a higher power to step in. "I'm not afraid of sharks, Ava. I just don't like unpredictability."

"You must hate me, then," I say with a small smile.

He stares at me, not even a tilt of his lips, as he reads my face behind dark sunglasses. "I'm the furthest thing from hating you, Princess, for better or worse. I think it's pretty clear."

It knocks me off my game, confusing and shocking me with his surety and the way it's the opposite of everything I ever thought about Jaime.

Sure, I fuck with him by telling him he likes me, and sure, I never thought he actually hated me, butit wasn't like I was under the impression that this was his ideal assignment, driving a beauty queenaround the country while she constantly almost gets herself into trouble.

I continue staring at him as the instructor says something I don't hear, lost in Jaime and what he said, until his thick arm raises, eyes aimed at the instructor behind me.

"We'll go first," he says, slipping on his life jacket quickly and efficiently before putting a hand on my lower back to turn and guide me to the back of the boat.

The next thing I know, Jaime is standing at the edge of the back of the boat after the instructor gives us each goggles, a snorkel, and a list of instructions. I barely hear, my mind still racing, but Jaime is glued to him as he speaks, taking in everything.

"All right, you two," he says finally. "You can either get in gently or jump on in." His smile is genuine as he looks at us, and suddenly I remember where I am, the fact that there are cameras, and that we're about to cross off one of my bucket list items.

"Jump!" I shout, and everyone on the boat laughs like it was expected of me to want the more fun version.

Jaime huffs but nods.

"Whenever you're ready," the tour guide says with a chin tip to Jaime.

"You first," he says under his breath, but I shake my head, my braid grazing my shoulders as I do.

"Together."

He looks at me, a slight irritation in his look before he rolls his eyes. "Fine." Then he looks forward like he's waiting for my countdown.

I lean infinitesimally to my left toward him. "You gotta hold my hand," I whisper.

"What?"

"Before we jump in. You have to hold my hand."

He looks at the water and then at me. "Why?"

"I don't know, it's what everyone does whenthey jump off boats." He glares at me, and I laugh. "You know, holding my hand won't ruin your professionalism, big guy," I tell him.

"I think I've already fucked the professionalism beyond repair," he grumbles under his breath. I laugh loudly, and his lips part in a smile he can't fight.

"Well, then hold my hand and jump in."

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