Page 30 of Not Safe for Work

But I can’t seem to settle into this. If I abandon my firmly established rules, then that person would need to be worth the risk. Does that person exist? Or maybe I’ll just stay single. I’ve heard enough stories to suggest many women are much happier that way.

“Do you want to go for a swim?” Andy asks. “They’re stopping the boat so people can get off and go snorkeling. It’s supposed to be spectacular down in this cove.”

I shake my head. “Oh, I don’t really swim, but I’ll come and watch.”

We both stand, and Andy grabs my hand as we head for the main deck. I allow him to tow me through the crowd, unsure of how I feel about this.

When we reach the bottom level, I peer over the railing, where about a dozen people float in the water, wearing snorkeling masks and basking in inflatable tubes, splashing one another.

“You sure?” Andy asks.

“Yeah, have fun.” He releases my hand and tugs off his shirt, tossing it onto a lounger. I surreptitiously check him out and can’t complain about what I see.

He runs to the end of the boat, tucking himself into a cannonball before he plunges off the edge.

Lan and Gabrielle wave up at me from the water, and I stand and watch the fun for a few minutes. Eventually, I wander back to my seat and dig out my phone. I fire off a series of texts.

First, to my dad to let him know how things are going (minus the fact that I’m sharing a room with my male coworker—I might be almost thirty, but certain things are just easier to keep to myself).

Then to Molly about my disastrous morning and the conversation I overheard with Rafe and Hannah.

Molly: I wonder what’s going on. Did you ask him?

Me: I can’t ask him that.

Molly: I think you should ask him.

Me: Don’t be crazy. He’ll rip my head off and eat it like a praying mantis. He’ll think I’m prying.

Molly: But you are. (And it’s the females who do that)

Me: I know, but not for the reasons he thinks.

Molly: … what reasons, Tris?

Me: Nothing. Never mind.

Molly:

I pause, studying our words. What do I mean by that?

Rafe would assume I’d be digging for gossip and something to lord over him. And maybe he’d be right if we were talking about the Tris of a week ago. But the one sitting here now…

A shadow falls over me, obliterating the sun and sending an inexplicable shiver down my spine.

“What’s so interesting?” Rafe asks.

My head snaps up, and I stuff my phone into my purse, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“You came,” I say.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

I shrug as he lowers himself onto the sofa. He’s close enough that our elbows touch, and that tiny, meaningless fragment of contact sends a heated wave of sensation straight to my toes.

In comparison, Andy’s touch feels almost clinical.

Stop. I shouldn’t be comparing them.