Page 48 of Body Shot

I know Navy SEALs do amazing, important things. But imagining Beck loaded with gear jumping out of a plane . . . wow. That’s impressive enough, but to admit he was terrified? That took incredible guts. He’d probably done a lot of practice jumps—had he also parachuted into combat zones? I don’t know much about their missions. I should. I grew up in San Diego, home to Naval Amphibious Base Coronado. But I lived in my own world. I had my own interests, then I lost my family and developed my own mission, something entirely different than the missions SEALs go on.

“Tell me more,” I say.

“I don’t usually talk much about that stuff.”

“Why not? Do you have bad memories?”

He doesn’t answer right away. “Sure, there are some things that aren’t fun to remember. So I don’t. I have a lot of great memories too, though. Cade and Marco and I met in the Navy. They’re like my brothers.” He pauses and his silence makes me even more curious. “Met lots of other great guys too. And we accomplished some good things. That’s what I want to remember.”

“Then tell me about those things.”

Beck gestures at the tour guide, who’s directing everyone back to shore. “Not now. Maybe sometime.”

I’m sad our tour is ending. It’s been a magical experience, floating over illuminated water, surrounded by dark, the colorful glows of the other boards nearby and the distant lights of the city glimmering over the water of the bay. It feels like Beck and I are in a bubble of intimacy. Listening to Beck and getting to know him better . . . I want more of that.

As we near shore, I try to remember what I was taught. Don’t run the board right onto the sand, so as not to scratch it or damage the lights. Get off in deep enough water that the fin doesn’t hit the bottom. But as my board slows, I start to wobble. “Damn.”

“Kneel down!” Beck calls.

Right. That’s what I’m supposed to do. That’s what I forgot. These thoughts flash through my mind as I rock seemingly endlessly, trying to get my balance but then topple into the cold water. The leash attached to my ankle yanks and I surface, sputtering. “Shit!”

Beck’s already right there beside me, reaching for me. “You okay, babe?”

“Yes.” I’m annoyed with myself and embarrassed. “I’m fine. Just wet.” I give him a glum smile as water drips down my face.

He grins back at me. “Yes, you are. But still damn cute.”

“Ugh.”

“No worries. I’ve got towels in my car.”

“Good.”

We carry our boards in, remove our life jackets, then head toward the parking lot. I start shivering. Now that the sun is down, the air is cooling off.

Beck opens the trunk and pulls out two thick towels. He shakes one and wraps me up in it, pulling me against his body.

“I’ll get you wet too,” I protest, setting my hands on his chest.

“I can handle a little water. Navy SEAL, remember?”

As if I could forget. “Were you afraid of the water too?”

“Nah. I was a good swimmer. I played water polo in high school, and diving was fun for me. Some guys freaked out about that, but I was okay with it.”

He rubs the towel over me and I study his face in the light of a streetlamp. “I think you’re kind of amazing.”

His hands still on my upper arms. Our eyes meet. Tension crackles. My insides tremble, and not just from the cold.

“Yeah?” His voice is low and husky. “Well, that’s cool, because I think you’re kinda amazing too.”

I blink at him, heat spreading through me from his touch and from his words. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve never met anyone who’s working on a cure for cancer.”

Our gazes hold, locked. I shiver.

“You’re freezing.” He rubs me again. “Let’s get you home and warmed up. I know just the way to do that.”

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