Page 35 of A Shore Fling
“Yeah, we could all use some,” I say, passing out bottles. I crack open the cap and take deep gulps.
Willow stands up, shielding her eyes with her hand as she stares out at the water. “Is she trying to float away?”
Ginger rises to her feet beside her. “What should we do?” I hear the concern in her voice.
Putting the cap back on the bottle, I set it in the sand and then move over to them. “What’s going on?”
Will points straight in front of her. “That little blob of orange is the inner tube Nina is floating away on.”
“Why doesn’t she jump off and swim back?” I ask.
Ginger’s eyes are lit with worry. “She told us she can’t swim well.”
My gaze snaps back out to the tiny orange dot against an endless sea of blue. “Unfucking real,” I mutter. That woman might be beautiful and successful, but it seems she doesn’t have an iota of common sense. I turn to my brothers. “Guys, I’m taking a break. We can continue our game later.”
“Trav, we only need one more point,” Jordan reminds me.
“I know, but Nina is floating out to sea, and I need to get her.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Jordan says.
“If we stop now, Drew and I will win by default,” Reed states.
“No way. That’s not fair.” Jordan goes right back at him.
Reed’s expression is smug. “Neither is quitting mid-game.”
As much as I want to win, I can’t wait. What if Nina falls into the water and drowns? Besides, by the time we finish, she might be halfway to Nova Scotia, and it’ll only be that much more difficult to get to her.
“Fine. You win.” Yanking my red t-shirt over my head, I toss it onto the sand and run toward the shore. The frigid water stings my feet and then my calves as I keep progressing forward. Once I hit groin depth, I’m hit with an icy junk punch that feels like it came from the Abominable Snowman himself. I try to breathe through the painful shock, but my breath gets stolen for a moment. It’s barely recovered when the water hits my chest, stealing it all over again.
Fuck this.I dive under the water, hoping to put an end to the torture, like some body shock reset, but I resurface with the added agony of a brain freeze so brutal it feels like my skull might implode.Goddammit!Maybe I should let her drown… just for like thirty seconds. Enough to make her never do this again. But, no, of course I won’t do that. While I may be a sarcastic asshole, I’m not actually an asshole. So here I am, throwing myself into hypothermic oblivion for Nina, the fancy disaster from New York City.
My limbs are numb and heavy, like they’re made from slabs of concrete. Each stroke is a clumsy flail, as if my body forgot how to swim. All I know is I need to keep going for her sake.
Saltwater repeatedly slaps me in the face as I continue onward. She’s about thirty feet away now, reading a book as her tube rocks in the current. Wait a damn minute.She’s reading a fucking book as if nothing is wrong?
My anger cancels out everything else. I attack each stroke with renewed vigor, unsure if I want to save her or push her farther out to sea just so I never have to rescue her again. Digging deeper, I kick harder. Only ten more feet to go. Then five. As I approach, Nina is entirely unaware. Her eyes, shaded by a wide-brimmed hat, are focused on the paperback she’s reading. I swim up behind her and place a hand on the tube. She doesn’t notice, so I call her name. “Nina.”
She jumps, flexing her calves on the orange vinyl with enough force to topple her into the sea, but I quickly stabilize the small float, shouting, “Nina, hold still.”
She settles down, placing one hand over her heart. “I was perfectly still until you scared the bejesus out of me. I thought you were a shark.”
“Yeah, because sharks always address their prey by name before they eat them.”
“Your sarcasm is duly noted, but a person’s fears are often irrational. I’ve been scared of sharks since I was little, even though I’ve never seen one in the wild.”
“And yet you let yourself float out to sea on a tiny ring made of PVC.”
She waves around the book in her hand. “I was reading and lost track of time.”
I keep my legs moving under the water. “Oh, that explains your complete disregard for your whereabouts.”
“Hey, in my defense, it’s a Lucy Score book.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
She blows out a breath, as if she’s the one being inconvenienced. “Lucy Score is an author who writes romantic comedies. I’ll loan this to you when I’m finished. You could learn a thing or two from the grumpy hero, Brick. He’s much more likable than you are.”
