Caroline focused on his face, waiting for him to meet her gaze. “I don’t know what to say. I, uh, I’m sorry.”
He studied her for a minute; she felt his eyes drop to her lips then lift to meet hers. “It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours either.”
Roger said nothing.
Caroline swallowed against a wad of cotton-like dryness in her mouth. What the hell do you say to comfort someone in such a situation? She hadn’t a clue. Her father had been out of the picture for a while, and it still stung. Maybe nothing? Perhaps he needed to get away from the drama? She gulped. “I have a gig this afternoon, but I planned to head to the beach after and take some pictures for a project. I know it’s probably not all that exciting but ... you wanna come along?”
“What kind of gig?”
Her stomach sank—of all things, did it have to be an anniversary party? “Fiftieth anniversary for a couple of veterans. You don’t have to come along—I probably shouldn’t have asked.” What a dumb suggestion.
“No, I’ll go. The beach sounds great. I’m ... not sure about the other thing, but hey, you probably need someone to carry your gear, right?” He offered a genuine smile, and Caroline’s heart squeezed again—lord, she’d missed his dimples.
“If I needed a pack mule, I could always ask your buddy, Nathan,” she teased.
He snickered. “Go for it—I dare you.”
She lifted a brow, but the playful gesture was lost on Roger as he turned to lock his door. In fact, he remained fairly quiet until the party ended and they arrived at the beach. She spread the blanket she’d packed, set her camera gear down, and pulled off her shirt to reveal her bikini top.
Roger tsked. “No more polka dots?”
“This is my swimsuit, not my underwear.”
“I figured as much. I like the look. So, when you said veteran’s anniversary earlier, I wasn’t expecting a wedding anniversary.”
A ting of guilt thumped Caroline in the head. She had been slightly evasive, but it wasn’t intended to be hurtful. “Under the circumstances, I was afraid you’d say no. Was it uncomfortable? I saw you dancing with the bride’s nieces and nephews, so I assumed you were okay.”
“Not uncomfortable at all. In fact, it was perfect. Good to see that some people really can make it work despite the statistics.”
Caroline pulled her camera from its compartment and turned to snap a trio of seagulls that swooped low seeking crumbs. She laughed when they dove closer. “I’m starting to think I smell like fish.”
Roger squinted into the bright sky. “They’re attracted to the reflection off your camera. Better watch out: this could get ugly.”
A gull swooped in and grabbed a few strands of her hair, yanking as it pulled away. “Holy crap! They want to eat me. Do I look like breadcrumbs or something? They must be desperate.”
Roger broke into full smile. “I’d say you look more like candy. They’re not desperate; they’re just craving something sweet.”
Oh, that was nice. Caroline flapped her arms over her head and beaned one of the birds with her camera. It screeched, and the tiny flock scattered. Whew, bird-pecking crisis averted.
Roger dropped down onto the blanket. He raised a knee and propped his arm across it. “That was a pretty cool ceremony earlier. Sad and inspiring at the same time. Sad because I know I’ll never be one of those people, but inspiring because they were heroes in more ways than we can count. They served our country. They obviously were good parents if you judge the number of children and grandchildren running around. They looked genuinely happy, too—which surprised me.”
Caroline lowered to her knees beside him and placed the camera on the blanket. “It’s so rare to see people at their age who still like each other and want to be together. Or at least it seems rare.”
He nodded. “Makes me want to be them.”
“Old and feeble with no memory?”
Roger’s hair flapped in the wind as he shook his head. “Since my dad decided to ... do his thing, I’ve thought a lot about life and family. I have this theory.”
Her attempt to lighten the mood had failed miserably. She leaned back onto her elbows and sprawled her feet in front of her. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
“I think people have three basic needs in life, no matter their age. Without those three fulfilled, they can’t survive. Or at least not happily. The first one is obviously sustenance: food and water. The second is shelter.”
Caroline blinked and turned to watch waves crash to shore nearby. “Of course.”
“I guess, but that could mean a lot of things. It could be a house or a tent, a mansion, or a cabin in the woods. That’s where all our nonessential wants come into play. None of it would matter if the third need were perfect. That’s the most important one.”
The conversation had officially gotten seriously deep. Caroline felt a chill roll over her shoulders. She debated pulling her shirt on, but she clutched her knees instead and waited for him to finish. The clouds were fading to pink around the edges, a reminder she wanted to take a few more pictures before dark. Still he needed to say whatever was on his mind.
“The third need—which most people neglect but in reality is probably the biggest—is a purpose. People have to feel like they have a passion, a reason for being here and tromping to work every day. A reason for paying the bills and putting up with that nagging boss or whiny coworker. That’s what we’re all seeking.”
Caroline leveled her gaze on him. He was serious. “You know, I totally agree. I have always thought that’s what was missing. I’ve wanted to be a journalist since I was twelve, and I can’t wait until I graduate and can get out there and start working. For some reason, it feels like walking away from a tied game in the ninth inning. You don’t want to leave it undecided. My dad’s been gone for—a while—on assignment. I haven’t seen him in forever. He’s a journalist, too.”
“You told me that already.”
“I know, but you see, that’s just it: it’s in my blood. I know that’s what I’m meant to be.”
“You do? I envy you then. I don’t have a clue what I want. I just said that because I’ve been trying to understand how someone could leave a wife and four kids after twenty-plus years. I wonder if I ever will. I always thought that was the utopia we all yearned for—you know, a good job, a family, a nice place to live, enough money to enjoy life.”
Caroline studied Roger’s face. She understood—she’d tried to rationalize her own father’s absence for years. It hadn’t worked. Roger’s brown eyes darkened with emotion, the lines of his smile barely a ripple. The wind from the sea washed over him, warm and loving, tousling his hair and clothes. He stared off at the waves, giving her a chance to drink in the smell of his Polo cologne and the way his eyes creased at the corners.
“Well, I’d better get those pictures done. I need them for my project, and it’s due in a week,” she said.
“Plenty of time. I usually wait ’til the night before.” He teased.
“It’s a major grade. I have to create a news article complete with photos that evoke emotion. We’ll be graded on the intensity of both the picture and the associated news article.”
Roger squinted again. “What are planning? You’re obviously doing a beach theme, so what’s the focus?”
Caroline pointed at the weathered remains of a sea wall with a crumbled pier jutting from the rough rock. “We’re supposed to write about something that impacts our city or campus. I think most people are doing something about student activities on campus, so I wanted to be different. I thought I’d showcase various off-campus activities instead. That abandoned pier, for example.”
“How does that dilapidated hunk of wood relate to our alma mater?” He looked skeptical.
“While perusing the internship boards looking for postgrad work, I came across a civil group whose mission is to ‘restore and revive’ that pier. Apparently a small group of brown pelicans use it as their home post. They’re
protected in this area, but their pier was demolished in the last hurricane. It looked like it could be a different and interesting human-interest story.”
“Caroline, I don’t really see how a group of dislocated pelicans can evoke the level of emotion your instructor intended. Are you sure you want to risk a major grade on this?”
“It’s an environmental issue, an animal rights issue, and a story of rebuilding after disaster. How is that a risk?”
What the heck had he expected? Another sob story about how hard students work? Or how little funding the university has for their programs? One of her classmates had divulged his project was focused on better security for students. A very important theme, yes. Interesting, too, but predictable. At least hers was original. Roger watched the waves roll onto the beach while Caroline snapped a memory card into the camera, changed the lens, and strode toward the pier. She half-expected him to follow. Instead he entwined his fingers behind his head and lay backward onto the blanket.
When Caroline returned, Roger had kicked off his shoes and removed his shirt. It was hard not to focus on the tiny hairs that feathered down the center of his chest and teased at the top of his shorts. They were soft and brown and begging to be touched. She dropped on the blanket and pulled open her camera bag to return her equipment.
Roger popped an eye open. “Good, you’re back. Let’s take a dip in the water.”
“Now? It’s going to be dark soon.”
“Not for at least another forty-five minutes. You have your suit on. Come with me.” He rose to his feet and beckoned for her to follow him to the water’s edge.
“You’re not wearing trunks. You’re gonna swim in your shorts?”
He gave her a sly grin. “You sound like you want me to swim out of them. That’s good with me.” He reached for the zipper.
Caroline held out a hand. “No! I hadn’t planned on bailing your naked ass out of jail today.”
Roger laughed. She was relieved to see the dimples. “Who’s gonna arrest me, Caro? There’s not a soul on the beach except us. Don’t worry, I was kidding. These shorts’ll work fine. I’m going in.” He turned and did exactly as he promised. In a few short jogs, Roger was up to his knees in sea froth. He lowered to his waist and allowed the sea swells to crest over his head.
Perspiration beaded on Caroline’s forehead, daring her to join him in the water. No further encouragement needed. She unzipped and dropped her skirt, stepped out of the pile of fabric, and then kicked through the sand to the water’s edge. Roger was already shoulder-deep, and the silver glare of rippled waves reflected against his skin in a shiny flutter. She ignored the urge to run back and retrieve her camera for a few quick shots.
It took about a minute to work through the water to his side. Once there, the undertow shoved her against him with one hard toss. “Wow, the pull is strong.”
“I get that a lot. Don’t fight it; I can’t help being irresistible.”
Caroline waved her arms under the surface to stay afloat. “I think I can manage to control myself.”
The water tossed her into him again, and Roger quirked a brow. “You’re doing a great job.”
She put a hand on his chest and pushed off, but before she’d gained distance he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Roger wrapped his arms around her waist. Droplets hung from his lashes, turning them into tiny starbursts. “I should have called you. My mind’s been a little messed up about my parents. Can you forgive me?”
Forgiving him was easy, but the discomfort she’d felt the past couple of weeks confused her. Could he forgive her for dissing his request to meet his family? Or could she forgive herself for getting this involved? “What are we doing, Roger?”
With one palm gripping her back to hold them together, he rubbed the saltwater from his eyes. “Haven’t you ever wanted to take a sunset swim? Put your arms around my neck and float. I’ve got you.”
She followed the orders but frowned. “I wasn’t talking about swimming. I meant ... this. Us. I’m graduating at the end of this semester, and I just received my acceptance letter for an internship with the Times. It’ll involve traveling overseas. It might lead to a real journalism job in New York.”
He sobered. “You’ll leave.”
It wasn’t the words that bothered her; it was more the way he’d said them and his gloomy expression. It wasn’t as if she planned to follow his father’s example—to run away from something big and long term. How could he throw so much accusation into two tiny words? They hadn’t even been together that long—hell, were they together? He’d spent a lot of time at her place up until he went home. Then nothing. She’d heard nothing from him. Not one word.
Something swished gently against Caroline’s butt cheek. “Hey, stop that.”
“What?”
“Stop trying to grab my ass.”
“How am I gonna do that when I’m holding you up with both hands?”
Oh, good point. She noted his fingers wrapped around her lower waist. Unless he’d grown another appendage, something else had—
“Holy crap, something just swam against me.” She kicked the water, churning it into a boil. If his hands were occupied, that had to be a fish—a fairly big fish.
A fin popped up nearby. Caroline screamed.
Chapter Nine
Roger sucked in a deep breath and stumbled backward as Caroline dug her foot into his groin and wrapped her arms around his head. As she flung a leg over his shoulder, trying to crawl up his body, he widened his stance to hold her weight. He gulped in water and tried to speak, but his mouth was smashed against her belly button. Normally that would be awesome, but she would drown both of them if she kept flailing.
He’d seen the fin—the dolphin fin. He coughed and tried again to voice his thoughts. “Caroline, calm down.”
“Where’d it go? I can’t see it! He’s under the water. Oh, my God! Swim, Roger, swim!” She let go and shoved a foot into his shoulder, then started wildly kicking her legs as she swam toward the beach. If it had been a real shark, they would’ve been doomed. In the distance, he saw a dark sheen rise on the surface and roll back under the water.
“It’s gone, Caroline. You scared it away.” She was splashing like a drowning horse, so she heard nothing. Laughter bubbled inside him for the first time in weeks. Several feet away, she darted a glance back then stood thigh-deep and motioned frantically for him to follow. At least she showed a small amount of concern for his safety. He swam after her. Once the water became shallow enough to stand, he rose and shook his hair—then let the laughter roll, hard and loud. He laughed until his stomach pinched his sides, then clutched his ribcage and laughed some more.
Caroline slammed her hands onto her hips. “What is so fricking funny?”
Tears stung his eyes and he sucked in a huge breath to gain composure. “It was a dolphin, Caroline. A harmless Bambi of the water. It wasn’t going to hurt us. It was probably just curious.”
“Hey, when something big, dark, and slimy rubs against you under the waves, you don’t stop to ask what species it might be or if it’s going to eat you. You assume it’s the big bad wolf and you get the hell out. Besides, how do you know dolphins are harmless? Just because they say that on television doesn’t mean they’re safe. They might not have ten thousand massive teeth like sharks, but they still have some.”
She had a point, but he was still trying to compose himself. He sucked in another breath. “Holy wave-runner, that was funny.”
“Stop laughing.”
He ran a hand over his mouth and jammed it inward as if attempting to stifle his bellows. “I’m trying. I’m trying. You realize I would have been shark bait if it were really dangerous? You deserted me!”
“I did not.”
“No, you climbed me like a buoy.”
“Well, you were the tallest thing out there and sturdy as a rock. I wasn’t trying to sacrifice you or anything. You just seemed ... safe. Safer than the water.”
“Thanks. I think.”
Roger’s feet felt like lead. He pushed out of the water and followed Caroline to the blanket. A memory flooded through his head. “When I was a kid, we visited my grandparents in south Texas. There was a rainstorm, and their front yard flooded nearly to their door. We watched out the window and wondered if we should evacuate. After a while, there were little reddish-brown things floating across the water. I thought they were piles of sticks and leaves, but they moved like molten lava. You know what they were?”
She pulled a towel out of her bag and dried off before sprawling atop the blanket. She closed her eyes. “No idea.”
“They were piles of ants. You know what they were doing? Crawling atop the dead bodies of other ants to float above the water. They sacrificed themselves to save others and their queen. You crawling up me like a ladder made me think of it.”
She opened her eyes and leveled her gaze on him. “I panicked, but I wasn’t planning to sacrifice you. You know that, right?” She rolled onto her stomach.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind being a worker ant.” Especially when half-naked women need saving. He dropped beside her and dragged the towel over his legs and torso. Her eyes remained closed, and after a few minutes, he noted her quiet, rhythmic breathing. Was she asleep? He crouched closer and peered at her eyelids. Yep, she was out. How could she go from scared shitless to sound asleep in such a short time? Crazy. He shook his head.
The light shimmered across her skin. The wind pulled a corner of the blanket up and tickled it across her back. With closed eyes, she swatted as if it were a fly.
Roger stilled beside her and closed his eyes too. He couldn’t sleep—too much adrenaline flowing. He opened an eye and glanced sideways. The sun danced across her skin—it was fascinating. She’d untied the tie of her top, which lay pooled beside her.
Roger slowly and quietly reached into her camera bag, inserted a new memory card, and snapped a couple shots of her. Had she heard the click? He lowered the lens and waited, half expecting an outburst. No movement. The wind blasted him. The breeze is carrying the sound away from her. How convenient. He snapped more then rose as quietly as possible and zoomed to get the last few from a distance. When he was done, he pulled the memory card and dropped it in his pocket, pleased with his efforts. The pictures weren’t obscene, just strange ... and stunningly fresh. He’d never seen sand sparkle like glass—or maybe he’d just never noticed before. It was almost festive.
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