Damn it, I need to hear what they’re saying. Pulling my phone out of my sports bra, I wipe my sweaty screen on my tank top—thank goodness for a waterproof case—lean over the side, and extend my phone to mindlessly snap pictures of the flamingoes. The water laps higher against our kayak, but we don’t tip.

“Maybe, you don’t lean out so far…” says Nikolai.

“Shhh. Don’t startle the birds,” I whisper. But really, I’m straining to hear what’s happening in Graeme’s kayak.

Tucking my legs underneath me, I stretch over the side until half my body is suspended over the water, arm fully extended. My core screams and my fingers ache from gripping the edge, but I keep my expression neutral and my focus on the wildlife, so no one suspects I’m eavesdropping. Licking my lips, I dart a sideways glance at Graeme. He’s scowling.

Behind him, Walsh’s lips curl into a calculating grin. “Henley would never have to know.”

And then she leans forward and runs her tongue along the lobe of his ear.

My muscles go slack. My palm slips. Too much of my weight is over the side. I tip… the water rushes toward me… oh God…

“Ahhhh!”

Splash!

The water is a frigid shock. The moment I submerge, my life jacket unfurls around my neck like an inflatable yellow pillow and I bob to the surface, spluttering and coughing. With a whoosh of squawks and feathers, the flamingoes take off as one. Their long legs dangle behind them, the black undersides of their wings flashing against their pink bodies. I grip my phone to my chest, teeth chattering as I float.

“Henley!” Graeme shouts. “Are you okay?”

“Oh my God, Henley!” Walsh screams.

Obscenities dance through my brain like leprechauns as I stare at the flamingoes now winging away from the inevitably disappointed passengers.

“Yeah,” I say miserably.

Who even knew birds that big could fly?

“I will save you, Miss Evans!” Nikolai bellows.

“No, no, no!” I screech.

But with a war cry worthy of a Viking, Nikolai leaps off our kayak, fully clothed, and cannonballs into the water beside me.

“Did you see the way he jumped in after her?”

“How romantic.”

I flash the two ladies murmuring to each other a tense, tight-lipped smile. All around us, more than a dozen pairs of eyes stare at the only two people on the Zodiac who are sopping wet and wearing inflated lifejackets.

Water drips off my clothing and pools around our oars, which are lying in the middle of the hard rubber floor. I try not to shiver. Nikolai edges closer, a self-satisfied smile pasted on his face. At least our inflated lifejackets provide some barrier, preventing him from getting close enough to nuzzle me like a puppy. Rubbing my frigid arms, I let out a blustery breath.