I looked away from him. “I remember you were going to give me a ride home.”
“Right. And then when we got to your house, you puked all over the bushes before you could even get up the stairs. It was such a turn on.” He curled his lip in annoyance. “I couldn’t leave you alone like that. My grandma would’ve skinned me alive if she found out I’d left you like that to fend for yourself. I figured I’d bring you back here to sleep it off. You messed your shirt all up, so I put you in one of mine. Like I said, I tried to clean it for you the best I could. I was worried you might get sick again, and I wanted to be close by, so I just put you in bed with me.”
I raised my eyebrow at him. “Convenient.” My tone was accusing.
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I thought so. Did you know you snore?”
“I do not!”
He smirked but didn’t say anything.
I glowered at him a moment longer before my manners grudgingly kicked in. “So, I guess I should say thanks for taking care of me. You didn’t have to do that. Most guys wouldn’t have.”
“I’m not most guys. But you’re right, damsels in distress aren’t normally my thing. You just seem to need more help than most.”
I straightened my backbone. “Excuse me?”
The expression on his face was pure disbelief. “The ocean, the hotel, last night. You should come with a warning label or something. ‘Needs saving from herself.’” He chuckled.
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” I sputtered, offended. Who the hell had designated him my white knight in board shorts anyway?
He grinned at me, and I knew he was enjoying this. “If you say so.”
I gritted my teeth. “Like I said, I should say thanks.”
“But you won’t,” he finished.
I smiled at him, or at least I tried to. It felt more like maybe I bared my teeth before I turned and stomped down the steps to the street, refusing to look back even though I felt his eyes on me until I turned the corner.
Three days later, I skipped down the path to the beach, exuberant. It was Tuesday, my day off this week, and I had spent the whole morning hanging out at the resort and taking pictures. When I’d met with Grady after lunch, I’d had plenty of photos to show him. He’d been receptive and even downloaded two dozen shots off my memory card to show his boss the following week. Rue had helped me come up with some ways to tie in the photography to the Edge’s Facebook page, and Grady looked especially intrigued when I pitched that idea. He said he’d be in touch, but that he was pretty sure we’d be able to come up with something that let me get behind the camera lens more. The meeting had gone so much better than I’d hoped.
I headed down to the beach to see what else I could capture for my portfolio before the crowds left. I knew there was a sandcastle contest for the kids finishing up, and I wanted to get some shots of it.
Jackpot. I strolled around the beachfront, squatting low and coercing the kids to pose next to their creations. Their excited faces shining from behind the wet sand mountains were endearing. The innocent glee of the moment came across well in the pictures. I zoomed in on a fiddler crab caught in the moat of one child’s abandoned fortress. Snapping a handful of quick shots, I panned up with the camera still held up to my eye.
West’s face appeared on my screen, magnified.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, startled, and lowered my arms self-consciously.
“Today? Today I’m driving the parasailing boat. Grady’s regular guy called in sick, and I was free, so here I am. What are you doing? I thought you were a lifeguard.”
“I am. But I’m supposed to be a photographer. I mean, I am a photographer, it’s just hard getting a new business off the ground.”
West laughed. “Yeah, I hear you on that one. Start up’s a bitch.”
I looked at him, puzzled. “You’re trying to break into the parasailing business? I thought the resort owned the boat and the sail?”
“They do, and I’m not. I owed Grady a favor though.” He smirked.
“Okay,” I said, taking a step away. “I’ll let you get back to it then.”
“Ever been up?” He took a step that mirrored mine, keeping even with me.
“On a parasail? Uh, no. And I don’t plan on it.”
“Why not? There’s nothing to it. You just kind of… float. Only, on the end of a rope instead of in the water.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly what?” His eyebrows dipped down.
“It’s over the water.”
He looked at me sideways, comprehension dawning. “That’s right. You’re scared of the water. Well, let’s consider this step one in curing you of your phobia. You’re not going in the water. You’ll be going over the water. Way over.”
“What if I fall?”
He turned back to face me and dropped his chin down to meet my wide eyes. “I won’t let you fall. Sometimes, when I take the turn at the end of the island, your feet dip in for a second, but you’re not going to fall.”
“Don’t you have paying customers you should be taking up?” I asked.
“We’re in a lull. And it only takes fifteen minutes. Come on, let me help you. You live by the ocean now. This fear of yours is ridiculous.”
I shifted my weight from side to side. Holding my hand up to my eyes, I scanned the water. The ocean looked calm right now. Non-threatening. Toddlers splashed where the waves rolled onto the beach. Even they weren’t scared of getting their feet wet. “All right, fine,” I said, giving in with reluctance.
I followed him to the border of the resort property, where the hut for the parasailing rides stood, and enormous butterflies took wing in my stomach — whether from my impending doom or West’s presence, I wasn’t sure. I handed off my camera and bag to Josie, the attendant, and then slipped off my shoes before trailing after West to the harness. Josie followed and helped hook me in to all the straps while West ran over the safety spiel. When he explained the emergency release, I looked at him with alarm. “I thought you said I couldn’t fall!”
He sighed. “You are not going to fall. Trust me on this.”
“How do you know?”
“You’re strapped in.” He reached down to where the webbed belts connected around my pelvis, sliding two fingers under the edges and tugging to show me they weren’t loose. Catching my eye, he dragged his hand from one hip across my stomach to the other hip, his fingers brushing the top of my coral shorts. The butterflies ricocheted off my ribs. He tugged again. “See? All safe.”
I took a deep breath and looked at where his fingers were still touching me. Heat seared through the cotton of my shirt, warming my skin and igniting my blood. The corded bracelets were hanging on his wrist, one blue and white, one green, and one shades of tan. Mixed in with those was a royal blue elastic band. My fingers circled my own wrist, where I usually wore my hair tie. I had a white one on today, but I was missing my blue one from my night at Grady’s. I reached out and touched it. “Is that mine?”
He pulled his hand away. “Yeah. I found it in my bed after you left. I wanted to remember to give it back to you.”
I looked at him expectantly.
“What?” He shrugged. “It looks like you’ve got another one.” He turned and walked to the boat, leaving me watching after him in confusion. Did he not plan on giving it back then?
Minutes later, I was airborne.
He was right. It felt exactly like floating. Like I was a balloon and he was a little kid running as fast as he could, watching the balloon shadow his every move. I spotted my cottage and the Wreck. Hell, I could even see the next two islands from this height. It was beautiful. Freeing. A seagull flew by, and for a second, we soared side by side.