Page 58 of If All Else Sails
There are splinters of varying sizes in both of Wyatt’s palms. I have three more to go before switching hands. Though with the way Wyatt keeps twitching and jerking away from me, we’ll be here all night.
“Hold still,” I order when he flinches. I tighten my grip on his hand. The man might get bodychecked for a living, but he’s not so good with splinters. “Jacob didn’t exactly tell me what we’d be doing for the trip IthoughtI was going on with him. He likes to surprise me. I packed accordingly.”
“You packed like you thought your brother might want to go spelunking?” Amusement colors Wyatt’s voice, and when I glance up to try to catch a smile, the headlamp shines right in his face. He puts a hand in front of his eyes.
“Sorry.” I tilt the lamp down slightly and shift my focus back to his hand. “Good point. I can’t see Jacob purposefully entering a cave. Maybe if he fell in one?”
“Or was being chased by a bear. They probably don’t make designer spelunking suits,” Wyatt muses.
I tilt my head a little more, hiding my smile. “Then Jacob definitely wouldn’t go. In any case, I’m glad I packed the headlamp. Even if I didn’t expect to use it for this.”
I go quiet, needing complete focus as I try to grip the smallest of the splinters on Wyatt’s palm, right near what I think is his life line. Or is it a love line? I don’t know much about reading palms.
Or about Wyatt’s life. Or love life. I’ve never seen so much as a tabloid picture of him with a woman—not that I went looking—but I assume he must have had girlfriends over the years.
What I do know is that he has really nice hands. Big. Strong.Long fingers with calluses on the tips. I’ve become very acquainted with them in the last half hour, and I approve.
“So whathaveyou done on your trips with Jacob? You didn’t say over lunch. Not caving, obviously.”
It seems weird to me that Jacob wouldn’t have told Wyatt something about our trips. But then, I wonder how much of their relationship is still based on friendship now rather than work.
“They’ve mostly been disasters. We did Miami first, which was great for Jacob since he loves nightlife and clubs. Fine for me because I like the beach.”
“But you don’t like clubs.”
My skin prickles at his confidence. It’s a statement, not a question. I’ve always assumed Wyatt ignored me the same way I tried to ignore him. Instead, I’m starting to get the feeling he was paying a lot more attention than I realized. Like heknowsme. At the same time, I think this is the first conversation where he’s asked any questions about my life.
Actually, this feels like our first real grown-up conversation. And it’s kind of...nice. I swallow and try to keep my focus from drifting to his impossible-not-to-find-handsome face.
“Not clubs,” I agree. “Though I do make an excellent designated driver and semi-decent wingwoman.”
“Not anexcellentwingwoman?”
“No.” I smile at the memory. “People kept assuming we were a couple. I thought it was funny. Gross—but funny. Jacob didnotfind it amusing at all.”
“I’ll bet.”
I suddenly wonder if Wyatt has ever been Jacob’s wingman or vice versa. If the two of them ever went out together, looking to meet women. I drop the tweezers.
Leaning over to pick them up, I clear my throat and continue.“For the next trip we went to the resort in Virginia where they filmedDirty Dancing—”
“Jacob pickedKellerman’s?”
I pause and look up at him. “You’re aDirty Dancingfan?”
Wyatt crosses his arms. “I’ve seen it.”
“Enough times to know the name of the resort. Interesting.Veryinteresting. Do you happen to know any of the dance numbers? Or the songs? It’s got a killer soundtrack.”
Wyatt mumbles something under his breath while giving me a cool stare. I laugh and go back to his splinters.
“Anyway, I’m pretty sure Jacob didn’t realize until we got there. He found a good deal, which we discovered was because it was mostly under construction. There was nothing to do— well, except family games and crafts. Which I enjoyed but...” I shrug.
“Jacob did not. I’m sensing a theme—you and Jacob don’t have a lot in common.”
“Not particularly. It’s kind of funny how he plans the trips— usually based on whathelikes—but then ends up unhappy. The last one was a cruise where we got norovirus. We both came back paler and five pounds lighter. And then there’s this trip. Which is...”
I trail off, unsure what words to use. Not a sibling trip at all. But...surprisingly fine? Norovirus-free? Enjoyable despite me not wanting it to be?
