Page 10 of Rescued by the Single Dad

She never saw who pushed her over the side of that yacht.

Never even saw it coming.

All she knew was that she needed some space.

The questions about her and Flynn were getting to her, and she just needed to breathe and regroup. She found a private spot on the otherwise packed ship and stared out into the fast-approaching darkness.

The sun had set behind the horizon, leaving a thin strip of pink in its wake. The first stars winked, and the moon hung full and heavy in the east. She was so caught up in the beauty of the perfect May evening, relishing in the solitude and the fresh, salty air, that she didn’t even hear the person come up behind her.

Before she knew it, two hands gripped her by the shoulders from behind, and she was falling into the frigid black water below. The yacht was drifting, perhaps the only real luck she had that night—beat being pulled toward the prop and minced into chum. But her turquoise sequined gown instantly became a diaphanous anchor and tugged her under. It tangled around her legs like a kraken’s tentacles, and she struggled to get to the surface.

Had she not been a champion swimmer in high school, she probably would have drowned.

But her instinct kicked in, and she reached down and removed her stilettos, then peeled out of her dress, all while underwater and quickly running out of oxygen.

Her lungs burned, and black spots clouded her vision as she struggled to get free of her dress. But eventually, she ditched the designer deathtrap, said goodbye to her Jimmy Choos and kicked her way upward until the briny breeze kissed her skin. She pulled in delicious gulps of fresh air, then started calling out for help.

But by that time, the yacht was so far away nobody could hear her.

It was around ten o’clock on a Saturday night in early May. But just because the calendar said it was spring, and the night air was warm, didn’t mean the water was.

Her teeth chattered as she treaded water, wearing nothing but her black thong, and the matching necklace and chandelier earrings on loan from celebrity jewellery designer Francisco Kruz.

She needed to get to land, or find a boat; otherwise, she was going to get hypothermia and die.

She could see the shadows of islands around her.

Yes, she was in the Puget Sound, but everything was still a heck of a swim away.

Spinning around, she searched for light. For signs of life. For signs of land or even a buoy she could grab onto. But there was nothing.

Nothing close anyway.

The light that seemed close enough was still no more than a yellow speck in the distance. But it was a speck she could see. Her north star.

She started to swim. Even though she’d go faster if she put her face in the water, she wanted to maintain her bearings. Putting her face in the water could cause her to drift off course.

As it was, she was fighting the current.

She front crawled and kept her head up with the yellow light guiding her forward. Guiding her to safety.

Everything ached. Her brain rattled, and her teeth chattered in her skull, and within ten minutes, she couldn’t feel her fingers or toes. More than once, she thought she felt something brush up against her leg under the water. But she pressed on.

Just like Dory, she kept swimming.

Because it was either swim—or die.

There was no option C.

And she wanted to live.

Even when her muscles cramped, and she got a Charley Horse in her left foot, she kept going.

She pushed through the pain. She pushed through the numbness until that light in front of her grew to more than just a speck. Until the shadows of a treeline came into view. Until the sound of water lapping against the shore filled her ears.

She swam faster. She ignored the stitch in her side. She ignored the chills that wracked her, and she kept going.

She swam through the kelp forest and the long ribbons that tried to tangle around her legs and pull her to her death, then finally, her toes touched rocks.

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