Page 2 of She Doesn't Have a Clue
“Look out!” she shouted at the man, who had caught her suitcase in an impressive maneuver, obscuring his face. “Clear the deck!”
She sprinted down the dock and leapt across the gap. Her feet pedaled and her arms windmilled, and she had a split-second realization that she’d been absolutely right; she wasn’t going to make it. She was going to hit her head and drown three feet off the docks. At least she’d have a decent excuse for missing the wedding and her deadline. Her own accidental murder.
But then a pair of hands grabbed her and pulled, helping her clear the last foot as she crashed into the man. They both went tumbling back on the sleek deck, her suitcase skittering away. He curled up with a painful grunt, the movement pulling her in tighter against him.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath after that Olympic-level long jump. “I didn’t mean to crash into… Jake?”
Her eyes went wide, heart beating in double time as the man beneath her winced out a tight smile and spoke with that gorgeous, buttery Australian accent of his. “Still know how to make an entrance, don’t you, Katey cakes?”
Chapter Two
“Jake,” she said again, at a loss. Jake Hawkins, former pro surfer turned elite travel guide. Once the most important person in the world to her, not that she had ever told him so. Of all the places she’d imagined seeing him over the last two years—and there had been plenty of imaginings, more fantasy conversations than was probably healthy—the back deck of a boat on its way to Hempstead Island for her ex-fiancé’s wedding wasnotone of them.
“I know you’ll take this personally, but you’re not exactly a sack of feathers,” Jake grunted, reminding her that she was still sprawled out on top of him, crushing him with her clumsy weight.
“Oh shit, your back,” she said, clambering off and raising a distinctoofout of him. “Oh god, Jake, I’m so sorry. Let me help.”
“I’ve got it,” Jake said, rolling to one side before going very still. “Actually, no I don’t. Give me a minute.”
“We should get you inside,” Kate said, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to reach for him just then. It wasn’t like she didn’t have plenty of practice helping him in the past, when the injury that brought his pro-surfing career to an abrupt end caused him so much pain hecouldn’t move. But that had been beforethe incident, before Kate had sworn never to try to touch him again.
He was supposed to be in Borneo this weekend; she’d checked his company’s website to make sure. She’d also called her mom and not-so-subtly confirmed it through his aunt. Not to mention she couldn’t imagine Spencer actually agreeing to invite Jake to his wedding. So what was Jake doinghere?
A window slammed open above them and somebody stuck their head out from where Kate presumed all the steering equipment was (hmm, maybeDanSeaLife4376had been right to call out her incompetence).
“Everybody all right down there?” the man shouted. “What in hell was that?”
Kate wondered the same thing. “You were leaving me behind.”
“They only told me there’d be one last person, so once he was on board I figured we were good. You two better get inside. We’ve got a real bluster coming up. I’ll try to keep it as smooth as possible, but it looks like we’re in for a rough ride.”
So the ship’s captain hadn’t been expecting Jake, either. Interesting. Jake had recovered enough to stand, staggering his way toward the sliding doors and the welcoming embrace of what looked like a very luxurious couch beyond. Kate retrieved her suitcase, giving Jake enough time to shuck his jacket and beanie, sink into the couch, and put his feet up on the low coffee table loaded with a charcuterie plate and a bottle of champagne.
He wore jeans torn at one knee and a Henley, the sleeves pushed up at the elbows and exposing the lean lines of his forearms. His skin was deeply tanned, no doubt the result of his latest tropical destination as a tour guide for the extreme adventure company he co-owned with a friend, his hair like spun gold under the soft lights. He looked both exactly as she remembered him from the disastrous last time they’d spoken, and somehow completely different.
Was he still angry with her? It was hard to tell, considering how tighthis expression still was as he gingerly leaned forward to pick up a bunch of grapes. Could be her presence he was wincing at, or it could be the twinges of pain that used to render him immobile.
“Do you need your pills?” she asked tentatively.
“Didn’t bring them,” he said, his tone short. He cocked his head toward her. “Didn’t think I’d get cannonballed on the way there.”
Two years ago Kate would have known he was joking and would have shot back a quip of her own about how an athlete should stay agile and ready for anything. But right now all she could remember was the last time she’d seen him, his normally open and friendly expression twisted in anger, the accusatory words coming so hot and fast she couldn’t keep up with them. He didn’tlooklike he was about to unleash another tirade on her, but athletes had to stay agile. Even mental ones.
“So, you’re here!” Kate said, trying to sound cool and breezy and landing closer to maniacal. “And not in Borneo. I mean, was it Borneo? Did you say? I thought I heard… probably read it… somewhere. Or maybe Burma? I get those mixed up, when I think about it. And Burbank, though I think that’s a city in California. Was that where they tapedThe Tonight Sh—”
“Kate,” Jake said, putting up his hands in exasperation. “Stop. I know what you’re doing, and we don’t have to do this.”
Oh boy, here it comes. Hewasstill pissed, and he was gearing up to tell her all the ways she’d failed him as a friend, just like last time. She had enough to worry about this weekend without adding Jake Freaking Hawkins to the mix. She had to get ahead of this.
“You’re right,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “You are right. We’re just gonna… face this head-on. No games. No playing around. No saying one thing and meaning—”
“Kate!” Jake said, wincing again. This time she was pretty sureshewas the pain in his backside, though.
“I know we’re not friends anymore!” she blurted out, staring hard at the sweating bottle of champagne and feeling a kinship with its discomfort just then. “Or at all, maybe ever. And that’s fine, really.I’m… super cool with that. You have moved on, I have moved on. Time has moved on—”
“Timehas moved on?” Jake said, somewhat disbelieving.
“You know what I mean,” Kate snapped, irritated that she hadn’t been allowed to practice this at least a dozen times in the mirror. If she’d known he was coming this weekend, if she’d even so much as suspected he might be in attendance, she would have planned—and packed—verydifferently. She didn’t do well under pressure, as evidenced by the last time they’d spoken. Jake opened his mouth as if to speak, but she held up her hands to stop him; she needed to get this out, her way.