Evie, the small blacktip reef shark, glided sluggishly through the water, her pale underbelly flashing with each turn. A jagged scrape marked her dorsal fin, likely from a boat propeller or fishing hook. Once wary, she now drifted closer, drawn by the scent of food on the bucket in your hands.

You were rinsing out the feeding bucket at the marina, focused on the small, injured shark gliding through the tank when you felt someone watching. Glancing up, you saw Rafe Cameron leaning casually against the railing, his usual smirk softened into something more thoughtful.

“Didn’t expect to see John B’s sister here, feeding sharks,” He called out, his eyes lingering on you.

You shrugged, brushing a wavy lock of hair away from your freckled face. “Didn’t think you cared about anything that didn’t come with a price tag.”

Rafe chuckled but didn’t move. “Guess I’m full of surprises. You’re not scared?” He asked, nodding toward the shark circling in the tank.

“They’re misunderstood,” You replied. “People think they’re dangerous just because they don’t know them.” You glanced up, finding his gaze fixed on you with a mix of curiosity and something that looked a lot like admiration. “Kind of like some people I know.”

He took a step closer, that cocky exterior slipping as he watched you. “Maybe we’re both a little misunderstood.”

For a moment, the usual distance between you—a Kook and a Pogue—felt like it didn’t matter. Rafe’s gaze softened as it lingered on the dimples in your cheeks, the warmth in your brown eyes. You couldn’t help but feel a spark, unexpected but undeniable.

“Maybe,” You replied softly.

Standing there by the tank, with the quiet of the evening settling in, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. The touch was small, but it felt like a promise. And in that instant, with only the sound of the water around you, you both knew that whatever was building between you might just be worth the risk.