not true. It’s just, they’re more open-minded, usually. I don’t always get the feeling they’re judging everything I say.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “So, what you’re really afraid of is being judged.”
“Maybe.”
His eyes search my face, lingering over my mouth before lifting back to my eyes. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”
My heart skips, then sputters when I remind myself he’s not single.
“And,” he adds, his eyes lifting to the window behind me, “from what I can see, you’re great with kids, so this was a good fit for you.”
“Do you want kids?” I ask before I think better of it.
He looks at me as if I just asked if the moon is made of cheese. But as he holds me in that gaze, it clouds a little. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
“You’ve never pictured what you want your life to be when you grow up?”
His lips press into a line, and the liquid pools of his eyes harden. “I’ve always known exactly what my life was going to be.”
Raised voices meet us from behind and I turn to see Sherm hunching over Macie, protecting her from Jason and his fifth-grade partners in crime, who are trying to give her a wet willy.
Theresa is up and charging down the aisle. She takes her two boys by the arm and separates them, putting one behind Rob and me, and the other behind her seat. She goes back for Jason and seats him with her.
I don’t miss Rob’s glare at the boy. He’s gripping the seat ahead of us and rapping out a fast rhythm on the metal frame with his pinky ring.
“What is your ring?” I ask, hoping to lighten the mood again. “I saw Sherm wears a similar one around his neck.”
He removes his hand from the seat and looks at it. “Birthstones. Sherm is April and I’m November.”
“It’s interesting that you both wear them. Is there some significance?”
If anything, his mood darkens even more. “None that means anything anymore.”
My insides bunch. It seems nearly impossible to find a topic that doesn’t irritate him. I sit back and shut up and when we arrive at the manatee habitat fifteen minutes later, the kids all file off the bus and gather around the naturalist. He tells them about manatees and their environment. The decibel level rises when he leads them to the sand and they start to file into the water.
“Guess I’m up,” Rob says, unbuttoning his jeans.
I try not to watch as he shucks them off, but it’s a losing battle. Under, he’s wearing a pair of loose black swim trunks. And holy smokes, he’s got great legs—long and muscular with a dusting of dark hair. Totally male. I wait for him to take off his shirt, but he doesn’t.
Sherm has Macie’s hand and they’re wading slowly into the water. Rob follows them in, and Theresa grabs my arm.
“Nice choice, Adri,” she mutters, then trots in after them.
I pull out my phone and decide to make myself useful and immortalize the event. I snap shots from the beach as the kids splash around. Thankfully, Rob doesn’t have to throw himself between children and hungry sharks. There are tons of oohs and aahs—apparently there’s a baby manatee out there—and the kids come out an hour later, excited and tired.
They dry off and sit and eat their bag lunches at a group of picnic tables overlooking the bay, then we load them back into the bus. When I climb on, bringing up the rear, Rob is back in our seat, his damp T-shirt clinging to pecs and abs that would put any Calvin Klein underwear model to shame. And his wet swim trunks are also clinging.
I force my eyes away.
“Everyone accounted for?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. “No shark depletion?”
“We were just lucky this time,” I mutter.
“Good,” he says. “Thought I saw a few of the little ones get picked off around the edges.”
“And you didn’t intervene?” I ask in mock outrage.
He guffaws. “You’re kidding, right? I told you my philosophy. Every man for himself. Plus, who’s really going to miss a few little ones.”
He seems much less haunted by that phrase than he did a few hours ago.
“How did you end up in Florida?” It’s because I can’t think around him that I just blurt these things. I’m not usually a blurter.
The storm in his eyes swirls, but never fully develops. “Business,” he says after a beat, his gaze never leaving mine.
I feel the shift in him as he