As far as vacations go this one is turning out to be pretty damn shitty.
She had to pay like a gazillion additional fees when she checked in two days ago. The hotel's food is crap (and Emma isn't pretentious – when she says the food is crap, she means CRAP). And, of course, because she wanted to get away from the noise and the traffic and the people, she chose one of the most secluded little hotels and there's nothing around except for more hotels, the closest restaurant an hour walk away. Oh, yeah, she also managed to fall asleep on the beach on her very first day in the sun and is now sporting her best imitation of a lobster. A very unhappy, frustrated, hungry lobster.
This is how Emma finds herself running towards the shade her hotel promises at 11:23am, unable to stand another minute out in the blazing sun with her already scorched skin. She is focusing hard on where she steps, trying to avoid the dozens upon dozens of people lying on the beach (avoiding people has been a bust so far). She can feel the knot around her neck slipping loose but before she can reach up to re-tie it, something warm and solid decides to block her path.
Three things happen at the same time: 1. her body connects with another; 2. Emma lets out a hiss of pain as her tender skin connects with one much rougher; 3. the ties of her bathing suit slip completely and her top falls, hanging uselessly around her waist thanks to the knot at her back.
"Oh God!"
"Bloody hell!"
Next thing she knows the stranger she collided with, the stranger she has barely gotten a look at, has both this palms hanging millimeters from her exposed breasts.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Emma shrieks and is about to pull back and punch the bastard when he snatches his hands back.
"I was trying to-"
His eyes are wide with horror and whoa, blue. Like really blue.
Also he is now holding his beach towel in front of her and glaring at a bunch of over-grown frat boys emitting a series of piercing whistles to her left.
Emma shakes off her initial shock and hurries to re-tie her top while throwing death glares at the merry band of douchebags. She'd wager both her and Mr. Flashing Blue Eyes look threatening enough because the assholes lose no time in making themselves scarce once there's nothing for them to look at.
For his part, Blue Eyes only looks at her properly once she is decent and it may speak for the luck she has had with men but Emma has a moment where all she can think is 'Is this guy for real?!'
"I apologize for bumping into you, lass."
Aaah, British. That explains it. Kinda.
"It's okay," Emma tries to wave him off. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
"That's a nasty burn," he nods at her red shoulders with a concerned frown that makes something warm that has nothing to do with the sun gather in her stomach. "You should put something on it."
"Believe me, I have," she huffs. "Nothing has helped so far."
"Unsurprising, if you are using the artificial bullshit they sell around here."
Emma quirks a skeptical brow.
"And what would you suggest?"
"A home-made remedy," he grins proudly and Emma feels her own lips twitch upwards at his beaming face. "A conbination of aloe vera and mint leaves."
"Hmmm," Emma hums thoughtfully as if she has to consider it (she barely got two hours of sleep last night, she'd eat those leaves if she has to). "And how might I get my hands on this magical cure?"
"Well, if-"
Judging by his devilish smirk, Emma expects him to propose some sort of ridiculous trade that at this point she might just consider agreeing to.
And then his eyebrows draw together and said smirk twitches into an almost nervous grin.
"Apologies again, love, I realize I haven't even introduced myself – Killian Jones, at your service."
It takes Emma a couple of seconds to switch lanes and he is already dropping his outstretched hand when she almost lunges forward to grasp it.
"Emma. Emma Swan."
Why on earth does it feel like she is blushing? She wasn't blushing when she was half-naked a few seconds ago.
Okay, so maybe touching him in a not crashing-into-you way is kinda nice but still.
"I… ummm," he seems to have completely forgotten how to pull off the suggestive expression from seconds ago. "Right. If you tell me which hotel you are staying in I can probably leave some for you at the reception."
What?
It is probably the weirdest offer she has ever received. It also might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever proposed to do for her. Let alone a total stranger. Well, not a total stranger. Killian.
Even his name is pretty, for God's sake!
"No, no, I don't want to cause you that much trouble," Emma shakes her head.
He opens his mouth to protest, his eyes filled with confusion.
"You should give me the name of your hotel and I can come and-" she cuts herself off the second she realizes how obviously suggestive that came out.
Good going there, Emma. Why don't you just lose the bathing suit again?
Thankfully, Killian seems to be too busy folding and unfolding his beach towel to pay too close attention to her foot-in-the-mouth attack.
"I-uh… I'm not staying in a hotel actually. I live here."
"There are houses around here?"
"Well, no. I live on my boat."
There are about a dozen more appropriate questions in her mind, which is why Emma naturally picks the most ridiculous one.
"Where the hell do you get food from?"
Killian looks shell-shocked for all of 5 seconds before bursting into laughter and man, she would be digging a hole for herself to hide in, if his laugh wasn't so damn rich and making her tingle all over.
"I fish," he says with a huge-ass smile. "And I do occasionally stock up from the nearest supermarket."
She hopes her envy is not too obvious. If his amused gaze, darting all over her face, is any indication, it probably is.
"How about we make a deal, love?"
Finally!
"What kind of a deal?" Emma replies coyly, restraining herself from rocking back on her heels.
"You let me cook you dinner. I happened to get quite lucky this morning," he actually winks at her, the cheeky bastard. "And upon boarding my boat you shall receive some of that magical cure for your unfortunate burn."
He reaches over at this point, just two fingers trailing lightly down her forearm. Emma gulps.
"That hardly seems fair."
His eyebrow shoots up and she rolls her eyes.
"You are the one providing everything."
"Hardly," he scoffs. "You will be providing the delightful company."
"Oh, I'm supposed to bring someone else too?"
Helooks confused for a few seconds before taking a page out of her book and rolling his eyes at her.
"Lass, if you don't wan-"
"I do!" she says quickly, a bit too quickly judging by the glee on his face. "I just… I can't guarantee I'm that delightful company."
Killian leans forward until she can almost feel his warm breath and see the light perspiration on his forehead from the sun they are still standing under (she should really get away from the beach, even his cream can't be that magical).
"Allow me to be the judge of that."
"Fine," Emma tries to shrug but it comes out as a weird mix between nervous and nonchalant. "As long as you know that I don't offer refunds."
"I believe I can spare some fish and sun cream for a chance to discover how your blush looks under moonlight instead of sunlight."
"Who says I will be blushing?"
"Why, lass, you have acquired a permanent blush. That's all I meant."
Emma scoffs but even she knows there's no strength behind the sound.
Damn him. She is already excited for tonight.