Red Hot Rebel - Olivia Hayle Page 0,12

and not swim.

I look back at him, standing in knee-deep water with the blazing sky behind me.

Rhys looks back at me. And slowly, almost reluctantly, he lifts up his camera.

These poses come effortlessly. Reaching down to feel the water, turning to beckon to someone on the beach, looking up at the beautiful sky. And with each step I’m deeper in the water. It laps around me like a blanket of warmth.

I dip my head back and wet my hair entirely. It drips down my back as I emerge, grinning, the sky now a marvelous mixture of purples and oranges above me.

Rhys takes another picture.

I swim toward him on the beach, and when I get to the shoreline, I don’t get up. I lie on my stomach instead, my head on my hands, and look at him like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened. The only thing I’ve ever wanted in life.

Rhys falters, finger on the shutter.

And then he sinks down to his knees and keeps shooting. I close my eyes and lie like that for a moment. The photographer dislikes me, and yet this is the best shoot I’ve ever done. I’m on a beach in the Caribbean. Nothing else comes close.

When I open my eyes, Rhys has moved back, still snapping pictures. He lowers the camera when he sees me watching him again.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks.

“The sun is almost gone,” he says finally. “No more light.”

I don’t want to get out of this water. I don’t want to leave this island. “Okay.”

He looks down at his camera and puts the lens cover back on. There’s no way he’s going to admit that I did bring it, but the nonchalant way he says the next words still feels like victory. “I suppose we should eat something.”

I get up reluctantly, the warmth of the water dripping away into a slight chill. Dismissing him like he’s been dismissing me feels fantastic. “I have plans,” I say, thinking about the pool outside my patio, room service and the FaceTime call I promised my sister. “But thank you.”

And then I march straight past him.

5

Ivy

Rhys is waiting in the lobby the next day, arms across his chest. Admiring him is difficult, because it has to be when he’s not looking, which means I now have the perfect opportunity. He’s tall. A lot of men are, but when you’re as tall as me, the number who make you look up are vanishingly small. He’s one of them.

And he moves like the world is one big personal insult. Or perhaps like he’s the insult, constantly saying screw you to anything that might come his way, smiling ironically the entire time. Even the way he stands now, shoulders wide and arms crossed, like he’s daring the world.

I square my shoulders and head his way. Rhys sweeps his gaze over my flowing, floor-length dress. The red silk is cool in the heat, and the long split up my leg keeps the fabric moving with every step.

“You’re wearing that?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going into Gustavia, on a tour of the old town.” He’s speaking like I’m a toddler. “Not the Met gala.”

“Are you sure?” I ask sweetly. “I thought this was a ball.” And then I twirl in front of him for good measure, the red silk billowing out around me.

A muscle jerks in his jaw. “Ivy.”

“It had a note pinned in the label. St Barts, day two, town shoot. Would you like to see it? I think it’s still in my room.”

“No. Let’s just get going.”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

To my delight, the man waiting by the car is one I recognize. “Étienne!”

“Miss Hart.” He tips his hat. “You look beautiful today.”

“Thank you. Will you be our tour guide today?”

“Bien sûr, I even volunteered for the job!” He looks to Rhys, whose scowl is growing deeper by the second. “And who is this? Your boyfriend?”

“Oh, he’s my photographer,” I say, barely keeping the smile out of my voice. I don’t dare look at Rhys, either, but he feels like a black cloud at my side. “Shall we?”

Étienne holds the door open for me. “After you.”

Rhys slams his and I have to turn my face toward the beautiful surroundings outside the window to hide my grin. Perhaps I could make annoying Rhys a game during the trip. If it’s always this easy, not to mention fun, I’ll be having a ball.

Étienne drives us in a loop around the island, pointing out beaches and coves he thinks we should see,