An hour later, Makayla refused to look at Tyrell. He could glare all he wanted. She wasn’t turning around. It wasn’t her fault he was on her boat. She had told him to leave! She pressed her lips together, glancing briefly at where he was sitting in the opening to the companionway. He had one foot on the step inside and the other pressed against the opening to hold him steady as he leaned back against the freshly painted fiberglass hull. He had been on his cell phone for the past twenty minutes, texting.
At least it has shut him up, she thought crossly as she returned her gaze to the ocean in front of her.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re one crazy white girl?” he asked, glancing up at her even as his thumbs continued to tap against the smooth screen of his phone.
“Yes,” Makayla rep
