Page 10 of Beyond the Stroke

After I lit him up, he walked off like a dog with his tail between his legs.

I wanted to say more. Get him tossed from the club, but the squeal of the girls’ laughter playing on the beach reminded me ofthe occasion. A birthday party for a four-year-old who didn’t get to choose her dad.

Now, with the mermaid in my arms, I carry her toward the parking lot.

“Oh, I need my bag.” She points at a tan backpack I’d grabbed earlier.

I shift her in my arms and hand it over.

“Thank you.”

As I continue to walk, I notice how warm and soft she is against me. How her bare skin, slick with saltwater and sand, feels pressed to my chest. I steal a glance at her and notice the way sections of her blonde hair are still wet, clinging to her cheeks, while other parts are drying in wispy waves. She looks wild and beautiful.

Beneath wet lashes, she glances up to catch me staring.

When our eyes connect, something slams into me. Hard. Like a wave knocking the breath of out my chest.

I tear my gaze away. Focus. Just get her to safety.

At the edge of the lot, I spot a bench shaded by Loblolly pines. “There.”

“You can put me down now, Baywatch. I’m not going to drown on the sand.”

I huff out a laugh. She’s snarky. I like it.

“You’re still wearing a tail.”

“It’s fine. I’ll manage.”

The second I’m close enough to set her down she wiggles out of my arms, and I immediately mourn the loss of contact.

“I need to take this tail off and change.” Unbuckling the backpack, she rummages around in it and pulls out a pair of shorts. “Do you mind?” She gives me a sharp look and circles her finger, indicating for me to turn around.

I get it. She’s in a swimsuit, but still vulnerable, so I turn my back.

As I wait for her to change, I stand there, arms crossed, still angry with the situation she was put in.

“You shouldn’t have been out there. It wasn’t safe.”

“Trust me, I didn’t want to be out there. Rich requested it and I needed the job.”

I nod slowly, but my jaw tightens.

There’s no sound of movement behind me, just the harsh, raucous cries of the laughing gulls overhead.

“You okay back there?” I ask.

“Y-yeah, I’m good.”

“First time cosplaying as a mermaid?” I ask.

“Yes, if you must know. A friend offered me the job and I said yes.”

“Then why do it if you knew it might trigger an asthma attack?”

“I didn’t know I’d have to swim.” She groans. “And this thing is not easy to get off.”

There’s another minute of silent struggle.

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