The moment Summer Hayes stepped off the boat, she knew this was a mistake.
The air was thick with salt and humidity, her hair already sticking to her forehead. The sea stretched endlessly, a glassy blue that looked beautiful only if you weren't about to live there for two weeks with zero electricity, zero Wi-Fi, and—worst of all—zero personal space.
A camera drone buzzed overhead. Somewhere behind her, a production assistant yelled, "Smile, Miss Hayes! This is your first shot for Love Survival Island!"
Summer forced a grin. "Perfect," she muttered under her breath. "Let's capture my slow mental breakdown in HD."
She'd agreed to join the reality show for one reason only: damage control. After her breakup with Ethan Reid—international heartthrob, golden boy, her ex—the tabloids had eaten her alive. 'Summer Hayes Can't Keep a Man.' 'Career Over for the Drama Queen.' Signing up for this survival show was her PR team's genius idea.
"Show them the real you," her manager had said. "The sweet, funny, down-to-earth Summer."
But "sweet and funny" wasn't easy when your designer sandals sank into wet sand and something crawled past your ankle.
She took a deep breath, adjusted her bucket hat, and smiled at the camera crew. "Okay, let's get this over with."
"Actually," said a familiar male voice behind her, smooth and calm as ever, "we haven't even started."
Summer froze.
No.
No way.
She turned slowly—and there he was.
Ethan Reid.
Sunlight hit his skin, all golden tan and shadowed jawline. He wore a white T-shirt and cargo pants, simple yet unfairly cinematic. A backpack slung over one shoulder, he looked like every travel ad's poster boy—except this wasn't an ad. It was her personal nightmare.
Summer's mouth went dry. "You have got to be kidding me."
Ethan's lips curved, not quite a smile. "Miss Hayes," he said with mock politeness. "Long time no see."
The cameraman nearly squealed. "Oh my god, this is perfect! A real-life reunion!"
Summer glared at the nearest lens. "Cut that."
"No cutting," the director shouted from the boat. "Chemistry like this is gold!"
She wanted to throw her hat into the ocean.
---
Ethan's POV
He hadn't expected her to look exactly the same.
Two years apart, and Summer Hayes was still the storm he couldn't ignore—messy hair, stubborn chin, eyes bright enough to start fires. He'd told himself this would be just another job. Endure the cameras, smile for the fans, go home.
But standing a few feet from her, every memory came rushing back. The laughter between takes, the late-night scripts, the breakup that had made every gossip headline for months.
She crossed her arms, glaring at him like she could set him on fire by sheer will.
"Did you know about this?" she asked.
Ethan raised a brow. "About what?"
"This!" She gestured between them. "You. Me. Stranded together on some mosquito-infested island for a 'romance survival' show!"
He shrugged. "Production didn't tell me the cast list."
"Right," she snapped. "And I suppose you just happened to sign the same contract by coincidence."
He bit back a smile. There it was—the familiar spark. "Maybe fate has a sense of humor."
Summer groaned. "I'm allergic to fate."
The crew laughed, and the director yelled, "Keep rolling! Don't waste this tension!"
Ethan sighed inwardly. Of course the cameras were already loving it. To the audience, this would look like a spicy reunion. To him, it was going to be the longest two weeks of his life.
The host's voice echoed from a loudspeaker: "Welcome to Love Survival Island! For the next fourteen days, our celebrity pairs must survive with limited supplies and teamwork. Remember—romance may bloom under the sun!"
Summer made a strangled sound. "If I hear the word romance again, I'm swimming back."
Ethan chuckled. "You'd never make it past the reef."
She shot him a glare sharp enough to kill.