Wild Distortion - Tina Saxon Page 0,9

too hard today,” he says, in a dismissing tone. I stare at him for a moment, the sea breeze slapping me across the face like his words, but he doesn’t acknowledge me, so I quietly trudge back to my place. The cancer put a strain on our relationship. After getting diagnosed a few years ago, he’s withdrawn from me. He doesn’t know I’m trying to save money for when I’ll be left alone. Without him. Before, it was to leave this prison. Now, it’s to prepare.

With one last glance at the dirty dishes, I storm out of the room, irritated with life. Why did he have to get sick? Why doesn’t he want help?

He’s gone by the time I leave. Tears fill my eyes that I can’t help him. He’s so stubborn. I don’t want to imagine life without him.

Pushing the outrigger canoe off the sandy beach, I place one leg in after another and start rowing as soon as I’m situated. With each row, I blow out a cleansing breath, calming my mana. My spiritual energy becoming one with the elements of the sea and air. When I arrive at Ryker’s hut, I’ve released all the negative energy. I can’t change my dad’s situation, but I can make sure he feels my love.

Ryker walks out onto his private deck, smiling with only swim trunks on, his chiseled abs making me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling. “Whiskey, this is a surprise.” His nickname for me is both aggravating and provocative considering the first time he said it; I was staring at his naked body.

“Why do you call me that?”

His lips quirk up on one side, making my cheeks warm. Damn smile. “Your eyes are the color of whiskey. And I feel stupid calling you A. Especially when I know it’s not your name. So, Whiskey it is.”

“If I tell you my name, will you quit calling me that?”

He shakes his head, walking to the edge. “Nope. Too late. I kind of like it now.”

What is it with men giving me nicknames? “You ready?” I relent, pointing to the empty seat behind me. He stares at it with trepidation.

“I’m concerned that thing will tip over. I mean, that seat is tiny. And I’m… not.”

I bite my lip. Definitely not. “Big guy, are you afraid?”

“No,” he says confidently, throwing his bag into the canoe. The canoe rocks a little when he hesitantly steps down into it. When he settles in the seat he says, “I appreciate you calling me big guy, though.” This is going to be a long day.

“I’m more surprised you got that big ego to fit in the canoe.” I laugh over my shoulder and then bite my lip to stop. Who is this person? I silently berate myself for being this casual with him. I’d never say these things to a normal customer. Except, he’s not the typical patron. For some reason, he makes my heart and mouth move faster than my brain.

I square my shoulders. I’m a professional and no amount of attraction will change that. Moving the oars through the water with a little more oomph because of the extra two-hundred-plus pounds of weight behind me, my mind wanders to last night and him dancing. Between his carefree personality and sexy body, it took a lot of strength to make myself walk away. Yet, here we are, spending the day together.

“Do I need to help row?”

I quit rowing at the humor in his tone. Does he think I can’t do this without him?

“Nope,” I say, refusing his smug gesture to help, looking forward and rowing again while I mumble under my breath, “You sit there and look pretty.”

He laughs out loud. “I’m paid a lot of money to look pretty.” I pinch my eyelids shut. Of course he heard me. “Whiskey, I’m also paid a lot of money to see and hear everything.”

With slight curiosity, I turn and ask, “Are you an ornithologist?” Maybe that’s why he’s here alone, he’s working.

“A what?” He continues before I can answer. “No. Whatever that is.”

“Ornithologist. It’s a bird scientist.”

“Why in the world do you think I’m a bird scientist? Do I look like one?”

I shrug my shoulders. It made sense when he said he sees and hears everything. “I’ve actually never met one, so I can’t say what one looks like.”

“Do you really not know what I do?” He crosses his arms and stares at me with a surprised expression. “Don’t you get some kind of dossier on

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