Page 3 of When Sky Breaks
sky
NOW
FIVE YEARS LATER
“Not sure I heard you correctly. You want to go swimming with sharks on our last day here?” Thinly concealed fear underlies my question.
Johnny arches a brow as a sly smirk graces his handsome face. Reaching for the slim flute of champagne, he points the glass toward the pamphlet I’m holding. “I almost suggested it for day one, but seeing how you’re squeamish about half of the items on that list, I thought I’d go easy on you, babe.”
“Sharks are easy to you?” I stare open-mouthed at the man, his Cheshire-like grin expanding.
Dr. Johnny Hawk looks danger in the eye and tries to eat it for breakfast. Opposite of me in every way. From hair color—mahogany brown—to how he takes his coffee. Black like a maniac.
The last two months with him have been a whirlwind. Hard to forget the fancy dinners at upscale restaurants, lavish black and white fundraising parties, and where we’re currently vacationing, St. Barts, a beautiful paradise meant to make you long for balmy nights year-round. Even in September, the sticky air mists our skin with dew well after the sun has set.
The ritzy hotel reminds me of a rags to riches movie. We flew onto the island in first class, where I had room for my legs to stretch out. For a girl from a small, southern Indiana town, it’s a lot to take in.
The sea breeze ruffles my hair—cropped in a long bob above my shoulders. I settle a flyaway behind my ear and glance again at the itinerary.
The man likes his lists. Surprising for his spontaneous attitude toward life.
“How about the sea glass hunting? That sounds fun,” I ask, hoping he’ll bite.
Parasailing yesterday was a bit much, so the idea of getting even an inch close to a man-eating mammal makes the champagne churn in my stomach.
“It’s totally safe. They have a cage surrounding us and professionals on standby.”
How can he be so nonchalant about this? “What, just in case one tries to eat us for a snack?”
“Well, if you weren’t so pint-size,” he jests, tossing back the rest of his drink before signaling to the server for more.
I huff in silence. Johnny’s been nothing but good this entire vacation, encouraging me to try new things and get me out of my comfort zone. He said he was trying to get the small town out of the girl. And he’s right, I need this.
But sharks? Really?
His phone rings and he flips it over. “Sorry, babe, it’s work. I’ll be just a minute.” He stands and answers, facing toward the evening ocean view he secured us.
Johnny said he wouldn’t take calls on vacation, but I guess being an oncologist means you’re always at the ready. That’s at least one thing we have in common—caring about our patients.
I sigh and twirl my glass while I watch him.
Johnny’s a handsome guy for a thirty-year-old at the top of his game. His hair is still thick and shiny, the subtle highlights from the sun not visible in the dim lighting and his broad frame tapers to a lean waist with long, athletic legs. His linen shirt hugs his shoulders, and the material of his expensive dress pants molds to his impressive backside. Even his brown leather loafers reek of sophistication. He did mention his dad is some bigwig for a pharmaceutical company, so money runs in the family.
Dr. Hawk towers over me in height and zest for life. Graduating from high school early, he got on the fast track through college and med school, even securing a prestigious fellowship with the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.
So when Lenore said she had someone in mind for me, and it happened to be one of the top oncology doctors in the state, how could I say no? To be fair, I was put under some pressure as she introduced us in front of everyone at a staff party. My brain refused to do anything but nod.
Just not sure what he sees in me, as I’m no arm candy for the rich and famous.
I glance down at my pink cotton sundress and then over to a woman seated near us. She’s wearing a sleek white shift dress with a low neckline and zero tan lines. Now, that’s who I imagined would snag a man like Johnny, not little Sky from Maizeville, Indiana, a pediatric nurse who hates sharks.
Should I repeat that one more time for good measure?
“Give her a dose of dexamethasone and aprepitant. I’ll send over the script.” He bobs his head and places a hand on his trim waist. “Not a problem. I was just finishing up dinner. Have to turn in early. Going swimming with sharks in the morning.” He turns and winks before ending the call.
I guzzle the last of my champagne and give him a dazzling smile in return, even if it’s a little forced.
The best part about casually dating Johnny Hawk? He’s everything August Moore isn’t. Exactly what I need to get over the man who ignited my heart, only to turn it to ash.