Chapter 3: Schooled
A female's lyrical voice penetrated the thick hazy fog of his slumbering brain. He winced and groaned, becoming aware of a silky slender arm around his shoulder and neck. It stirred briefly but didn't remove its weight.
"Hello-o-o-o-! Anyone awake aboard?! Wakee, wakee, all hands off snakies!"
His dark head shot up from his pillow when he heard that pleasant feminine voice say the strangest thing. Had he heard her right? He wasn't sure. He squinted sleepy eyes as he fought to clear his groggy brain. Then he looked down at his bare chest and noticed that the slender arm around his neck had shifted and was now lying across it. He shook his head like a dog as he frowned.
"All hands off...snakies?" he mumbled in groggy disbelief.
Sharon mumbled something in her sleep beside him, but he had already removed her arm and was in the process of getting out of bed. She didn't even wake up as she nestled under the shimmering black satin sheets while he pulled on a pair of boxers. As he walked out the air-conditioned cabin, he pulled on his short black satin robe and entered the short passageway, yawning widely. He was running a hand back through his tousled black hair just when the door to another cabin opened and Ryan stepped out, barely awake himself.
"You heard it, too, Royce?"
"Yes."
"What the hell is this at this godforsaken early hour? Who could that be?" Ryan mumbled with a grouchy face as he tied his robe and followed his older brother down the carpeted passageway and into the round and luxurious galley before they headed through another short passageway and into the luxurious main cabin.
"I have an idea who it can be," Royce said with a deep frown.
Moments later they climbed the short ladder to the deck. When his older brother opened the hatch, letting in the sharp early morning sun, Ryan's hand flew up to shield his eyes from the stinging light just as the chilly sea breeze gave him goose bumps.
Sauntering over to the railing, Royce pulled out a box of Davidoffs from his robe pocket. He shook one up before he took it with his lips before slipping the box back into his pocket and took out his gold Zippo. He snapped it open, but then he seemed to freeze as his squinting eyes narrowed when he saw someone on the dock. It was a slender woman in a pair of loose-fitting denims and a navy-blue hoodie smiling up at him as she stood on sturdy black rubber sole boots on the pier.
He recognized her immediately.
"Mornin'!" Charly greeted, clearly taking both brothers aback when they realized she was the owner of the voice who woke them, and that she most definitely had been calling for them.
Ryan looked at his brother who snapped on his lighter and cupped his hand around it against the breeze before he tilted his head and lit his cigarette. He didn't appear to be in any hurry to return a greeting to Miss Charly Meeren below.
As the more charming between the two brothers, Ryan smiled and put up a hand. "Good morning to you too, Miss Meeren!"
"You can just call me Charly. Everyone does," she offered kindly, showing a completely different Charly Meeren that morning. She let her admiring gaze run along the eighty-five foot white length of the yacht. "Nice boat. Big."
"Thank you."
She smiled up at him. "I need to ask you both something if it's okay with ya?" she said with the kindest smile as she shielded her eyes with a hand.
"Sure. Come aboard."
"Don't mind if I do! Thanks!"
Ryan popped eyebrows with a surprised look as he looked at his brother. "Well isn't she chipper this morning," he mumbled beneath his breath.
Royce was silent as he watched Charly as she headed for the ladder, and with athletic ease, climbed it. Her heavy rubber-soled boots didn't hamper her movements one bit, and within a few moments, she landed on the polished wooden deck before she clapped imaginary dust off her hands and walked over to them.
"So, how do you two like our modest little island so far?" she asked amiably.
Ryan still couldn't believe this was the same Charly Meeren from the day before. It was as if there were two of them: one aloof and unfriendly, one very friendly.
"Well," he said, "we've only been here a couple of days, but it's really nice."
"Eight days, to be precise. More than just a couple."
"Keeping count?" Royce said.
She didn't answer. She only smiled as she stopped in front of them before she set slender hands on her hips. "Just off the top of my head," she finally answered as she nodded with truly sparkling turquoise eyes. "And during these eight days, haven't you noticed just how pristine and litter-free it is around here? I mean, have a good look around you. You can't find so much as a candy wrapper anywhere in the water or on the pier." She narrowed eyes and smiled. "Didn't notice?"
"Yes, of course!" Ryan said, although he hadn't really noticed before since he rarely bothered checking for litter anywhere. It just wasn't a priority of his.
"Yep. Yep. Clean as a whistle." She nodded, pulling her upper lip between teeth for a moment as she ran her gaze around. Then, with a smile, she looked at him. "And we islanders would really like to keep it that way, if you know what I mean?"
Ryan frowned with a curious smile. Then he looked at his brother who was clearly listening although he was acting cool and collected as he calmly smoked his cigarette.
"Yes, I do believe we understand what you're saying." Ryan nodded. "And we promise to do our part," he assured her.
"Good!" She reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out a ziploc baggie that contained six waterlogged cigarette butts.
Ryan eyed them for a few moments before he realized the real reason she was there. His hand shot to his mouth as he suppressed a burst of laughter while he noticed how Royce had paused in the middle of bringing his cigarette to his lips.
"I assume these are yours?" she asked as she held up the baggie.
Royce arched an eyebrow but he was looking at her, not the bag. "What makes you say that? I kind of feel discriminated against."
She smiled politely. "You're not being discriminated against, Mr. Masterson."
Royce arched an eyebrow. "How did you know our last names?"
She smiled but that smile didn't reach her eyes. "We don't have Davidoff cigarettes anywhere on the island, sir. These are luxury Swiss cigarettes not widely available around these parts. And until you docked your boat here, they were nonexistent." Then she tossed the baggie over to him and he caught it to his chest. "You smoke Davidoffs," she said with a nod at the lit cigarette between his fingers. "So those butts are yours."
He watched as she fished out a stack of pink index cards from her pocket.
"Don't tell me," he drawled, "you're anti-smoking."
As she focused on rearranging the index cards, she shrugged. "If by anti-smoking you mean I don't want the end result littering up our oceans, then yes." She looked up as she shook the stack between her fingers. "Otherwise, I have no opinion on the matter. My sole purpose here this morning is to help our guests understand that we would appreciate it if they helped to keep our little island and the ocean litter-free."
She turned her attention to the younger brother and handed him a pink card.
"What's that?" he asked curiously.
"Island rules on waste management. We're very environmentally conscious around here."
