The man nods. “Then I’m Carlos, your driver. If you’ll give me your luggage tags, I’ll take care of your bags.”
We hand them over and wait in silence, but I’m taking everything in, down to the sunburned vacationers rushing out to the plane to get home.
I’d rather walk.
Carlos returns with our bags and leads us out of the building that’s too tiny to call an airport.
Once again, the intense heat and humidity slap me in the face. You’d think I’d be used to it, having lived in Texas for much of my life, but there’s something different about tropical climates and the air that’s almost heavy against your skin.
Carlos carries our bags to an unmarked white van, the kind I’d never get in if I were traveling alone, at least not without triple-checking for proper identification of the driver and resort. But with Dane, it doesn’t matter where we go—I always feel safe.
He’s always been reluctant to talk about his past, but I attribute that to the years he spent in the military. I’m sure he’s done and seen things I can’t imagine. Even though he’s an import broker now, there’s something about his constant vigilance that gives me the sense that nothing can go wrong as long as I’m with him.
Carlos stows the luggage and slides open the door for us. “This will be a short ride and then a long ride. Five minutes to the docks and then an hour out to the island. If you have any questions, let me know.”
“No questions yet,” Dane replies as he climbs in the van first. Again, another safety precaution. He gives me the nod, and I hop in.
Once I’m belted into my seat, Carlos cranks the AC and puts the van in drive. We’ve only gone a couple hundred feet before he slams on the brakes and swears at two dogs running across the road and the child chasing them.
I don’t recognize the words he yells, but they don’t sound far off from English, which I know is the official language of the country. Before I have a chance to ask what dialect he’s speaking, we pull up to a dock where another man waits next to a small boat.
Jesus, what is it with itty-bitty planes and boats today? Thankfully, this doesn’t bother me as much as the plane. I can swim, not fly.
Dane looks at the skiff and then at me, no surprise in his features. And why should there be? He planned this whole trip, so he knew about our transportation in advance.
“I figured you could handle this. The only other option was a helicopter transfer, and I knew that’d be a deal breaker for you.” Dane’s words are embedded with challenge.
Is he expecting me to back down? To be looking for an excuse to say no thanks, I’ll just go home? Why does everything feel like a test?
Probably because if the last year was a test, I’d get a big fat F.
I lift my chin. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Chapter 5
Dane
I’ve never met a woman more stubborn than Kat. I have to admit there’s something about her grit and backbone that I’ve always admired. Even when she’s terrified, she’ll put on a good front.
When we were on the plane, it was impossible to miss the tense set of her mouth and the lines bracketing her eyes. Honest-to-God fear.
As much as I wanted to take it away, part of me was happy to see it. Not because I’m a dick, but because there was finally a crack in her wall and she let me see she was feeling something. Anything.
For the last year, I’ve let her take refuge behind that wall. Told myself if it made her feel better, that was all that mattered. It gave me time to work through my own shit. I figured eventually we’d both pull out of it and move on. Together.
Except we haven’t. It’s been a year, almost to the day, and we can’t go on like this. But I’m not willing to give her up without a fight.
I want her afraid. I want her off-balance.
Bottom line, I want her.
Kat sits beside me on the small boat, her arms wrapped around herself, her blond hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. The wind whipping off the sea catches the loose tendrils, and they fly around her face. She uncrosses her arms to tuck them behind her ears. The lines of strain are there, more pronounced than they were when we met.
Kat’s still a beautiful woman, blond, blue-eyed, and curvy in all the right places. Call me a typical guy, but the first time I saw her, I knew I wanted her.
The day we said I do, I promised I’d want her forever.
The stress of the last year has worn away some of her curves, and her once-smooth cheekbones are more pronounced like a runway model. If there’s nothing else I can do on this trip, maybe I can help her gain back a few of the pounds she’s lost.
The lines around her mouth used to be from smiles and laughter, but the frown I see all too often gracing her lips deepens them. The bright blue of her eyes isn’t lit with enthusiasm and passion, but dulled by resignation and tension.
Being married to me did this to her. A knife wound would hurt less than that realization.
Maybe I should have let her go that first week in Mexico instead of inventing reasons to stay as long as I could before I had to leave. I told myself I could make it work. Balance two worlds. Instead, I failed on every front, and this past year has been my punishment.
A fresh start, that’s what we need, and I’m hoping this trip will give it to us. There’s so much I haven’t told her, but now it’s time.
How can I expect a fresh start when our entire marriage is based on a lie?
Chapter 6
Kat
Dane relaxes against the back of his seat but I sit poker straight, alternatively digging my nails into my thighs and trying to keep from eating the hair that’s flying in my face. When the captain fires up the engine, I tighten my grip.
Sure, I can swim, but I swear to God if we capsize and I drown in the Caribbean Sea, I will haunt all the boaters of Belize for eternity. Try putting that on the colorful tourism brochure.