TAKE TWO_ Who says you can't ma - Heather M. Orgeron Page 0,54
side over the other and knotting the belt back.
We step out into the warm, humid air just in time to see a little white canoe draped in palms and red hibiscus approaching. There’s a Polynesian man rowing and an older woman holding a tray of food.
“Would you like to go on a boat tour while she sets up your breakfast?” The handsome islander reminds me a little of Jason Mamoa: dark and sexy and covered in native tattoos, with dimples that would melt my panties off, if I were wearing any beneath this robe.
Liam raises a shoulder, leaving the decision to me. I mean, let’s think about this for a minute. A trip around the lagoon in a romantic canoe with two fine-ass men? Yeah, that’s pretty much a no-brainer.
Aberto takes us on a ten-minute ride under and around the bungalows. When we return, our table has been transformed. It’s covered in a white linen cloth with plates of pancakes and omelets, bacon and sausages. There’s a basket with a variety of rolls and croissants and plates full of watermelon, pineapple, strawberries, kiwi, mango, and grapes.
“Have a seat.” Aberto pulls out my chair as his female friend, Oliana, starts loading her trays into the boat. “Enjoy.”
“Do you see what I see?” My eyes immediately fix on the fancy coconuts, adorned in tropical flowers, with straws sticking out from the top. Are you even in paradise if you haven’t drunk straight from a coconut?
“I put in a special request.” He winks, grabbing one for himself and passing the other to me.
“To waking up in paradise.” I hold my fuzzy fruit across the table to him and he taps his against it before we both bring the straws to our lips.
“Pfffft.” Coconut water sprays from my mouth, barely missing the table of food. Thank God, I had the good sense to turn my head.
Liam’s eyes get big. “Not a fan?”
I cringe, fighting the urge to gag.
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad… a little tangy.” He takes another sip, smacking his lips together as if trying to place the flavor.
“It tastes like semen.” I help him out since I’m pretty damn positive it’s something he’s never tasted.
“Does it now?” He’s laughing but also staring at me like he finds my reaction positively ridiculous.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shrugs, grabbing his napkin and tucking it into the front of his shirt like a bib. “I just find it hysterical that you spit out the coconut water but lapped up my come like it was fucking icing on a cinnamon roll last night.”
“It’s a matter of expectation. Come is supposed to taste a certain way, and coconuts should taste…well, nutty.”
“Nutty, you say?” His brows shoot to the sky right along with my middle finger.
Liam
Sharks!
We followed up breakfast with a little dessert then had to rush to get showered and dressed to meet our private charter at the pier.
Our captain, a local by the name of Manu, gives us a quick tour. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes since it’s a pretty small catamaran—a toilet and miniature galley below deck. There’s the captain’s nest, where he’ll steer the ship, and the loungers on the deck for us, as well as a “trampoline,” which is a netted area at the front of the vessel where we’re able to sit and watch the water pass beneath the boat.
On our way out to do some deep-sea fishing, our guide makes a pit stop for snorkeling. “This is a really great spot to swim with the sharks. Less touristy.”
“’Scuse me?” Nya pulls her flipper clad feet from the water back to the deck, tucking her knees beneath her chin. “No one said anything about sharks… Liam?”
“No worries. I did my research. Sir Google says you’re more likely to die from a falling coconut than to be bitten by a shark in Bora Bora. These guys are fed regularly and not on the prowl. They’re used to visitors.”
“It’s true. It’s a very popular attraction, but totally up to you.” He shrugs his broad shoulders. Swear, the men here are all as wide as barges. “If you’re too afraid, we can go straight to the fishing.”
Damn. Dude is laying it on thick. I like his style.
I glance over to my skittish wife and shrug, knocking her with my shoulder, “I’m going in.”
She nods, urging me forward with a pat on the back. “Go. If you don’t die, I’ll consider joining you later.”