by Maribel Fox
There’s a mixture of hope and something darker spawned by that. Hope because I think I’ve got the evidence she’s looking for with Henri, but revealing it now isn’t going to do me any favors. It’s not really any kind of secret that I don’t want her to go, so anything I show her is going to be looked at with an added layer of scrutiny.
“What about your… uh…” I can’t bring myself to say it. That makes it real, and I refuse to believe Callie is actually with that guy.
She huffs, making her way to the cabin to change.
“Trenton isn’t my anything, if that’s what you’re getting at. He had no business coming here, and he’s certainly not going to convince me to give up now.”
“Good,” I answer with a firm nod, not sure which part I’m responding to. Both I guess.
She rolls her eyes again. “If you don’t mind?” she mutters, pushing past me. I move without resistance, and then the door closes behind her.
If I strain hard enough, I can hear the sounds of her clothes hitting the floor over the cries of gulls and the steady beat of waves on the boat. If I close my eyes, I can almost see her smooth, creamy skin, revealed inch by inch, her perfect body naked in my home. Just on the other side of this door. It would take so little effort to walk in…
I growl, hands balling into fists. Being this close is torture when there’s still so much distance between us. Attempting to focus on anything else is pretty much a bust, my imagination running absolutely wild.
The door opens again, and it’s a huge effort to look away from Callie’s supple curves squeezed into the skin-tight wet suit. I can’t look at her though, because if I look, I’m going to want to touch. It’s physically painful for me to keep my hands to myself right now, but I’m determined to keep it together. Callie’s got enough going on without me being a complete perv that can’t stop checking her out.
I know she’s a knock-out, she knows it too. There’s no point in dwelling on it.
But damn does she rock the neoprene. Not many women can.
“Ready?” she asks, not looking my way as she tugs down the hem of her sleeves.
In fact, she’s making as much effort to not look at me as I am with her. Though I can only assume it’s for entirely different reasons. As much as I’d like to think that Callie’s trying to avoid looking at me because of undeniable attraction, I’m sure it’s more to do with the awkwardness and tension still lingering from last night. I’m not a bad looking guy by any means — a lifetime of physical work does a lot of favors for the physique — but I know I’m no heartthrob. Just an average guy batting way out of his league.
“When you are,” I answer, heading to the railing. The boat’s rocking enough that I reach out to hold on, which makes me look back over my shoulder to Callie.
“You sure you want to go out today? No shame in deciding it’s too rough.”
She purses her lips. “Next time we go out on the bay, I want to get in the water,” she says, determination wrinkling her forehead.
I need to tell her about the rocks, about the weird patterns in the sand and my camera exploding. About the ghost that’s probably still around here somewhere.
It’s hard to say anything, though. No matter how I try to phrase it, it’s going to seem like I’m trying to stand in her way, and that’s the last thing I want to do.
So without further comment, I drop off the side of the boat, letting the icy water swallow me up.
Being in the water is magic. I feel like I’m suddenly alive after a long sleep, and the cold does nothing but energize me. I want to swim and dive and hunt, but I make myself focus instead, surfacing after a long trip under.
Callie’s feet are just entering the water when I emerge. A wave rolls under the boat and Callie clings to the ladder, shuddering.
“How are you not freezing?” she asks, glaring at my bare shoulders peeking out of the water. She’s up to her knees and shivering before she drops all the way in.
“Used to it, I guess,” I answer. “You’ll acclimate in a minute, moving around will help keep you warm.”
“Is that how science works?” she snaps sarcastically. “Physical exertion makes you hot? How’d I manage to get through school without learning that?”
I huff and shake my head, holding back a little smile. She always was a feisty one. Even more so as an adult, it seems. I wonder how much bullshit she’s dealt with in the years we’ve been apart to develop this tough outer shell.
Despite her smart response, Callie starts moving around in a small circle, never straying too far from the boat. Getting her used to the water is still a challenge, she’s obviously uncomfortable, and I don’t care how determined she is, I’m not putting her out there until I’m sure she can handle herself. Not having to worry about the whole suit and apparatus while I’m teaching her means I can be entirely focused on what she’s doing.
“Let’s hit the basics again,” I say, grilling her on each part of her suit and what it does.
“What’s the hand signal for low air?” I ask, earning an annoyed look from Callie before she presses her closed fist to her chest.
“And out of air,” she adds, sliding her hand across her neck. “Up—” she gives me a thumbs up, turns it the other way, “—down. Any more kindergarten questions?”
“This isn’t playtime, Callie. You might think it’s unnecessary, but anything can happen down there and I’m not going to be the one responsible for you not being prepared.”
My serious tone seems to get through to her. Her expression falls and she huffs.
“Fine. What’s next?”
“Floating—”
“Are you kidding me?” she cries, throwing up one hand with a spray of chilly water. “I know all this stuff. I want to do it now.”
There’s no doubt that she’s eager, but I can still sense her hesitation.
“Are you the certified instructor?” If there’s anything Callie values, it’s proper education and training.
Her silence is all the answer I need.
“We’re easing into things and you need to get comfortable with setting your buoyancy.” The wet suit will make floating easier, but once we start fiddling with the BCD, she’ll have to adjust quickly. It takes practice to get neutral buoyancy just right, but it’s necessary if you want to actually have any control over your movement underwater and not just float or sink at the whims of the ocean.
Callie sighs dramatically, making no attempt to hide how ridiculous she thinks I’m being.
Don’t care. Better safe than sorry, especially when it comes to her.
Finally, she starts to lay back in the water, waves rising up to catch her.
“Look, no hands,” she jokes, waving them both at me. Just then another wave barrels through the inlet, bigger and faster than the others. It lifts her up before she can react, and then swallows her up.
“Cal!” I cry, diving instantly, panic rushing through me, the need to save her so strong I literally don’t have other thoughts. From the corner of my eye, I can see she’s already bobbing up, floating without much effort thanks to the wetsuit. She’s sputtering and coughing when I resurface behind her, glaring at the water like it’s wronged her.
“I’m fine,” she grumbles, seeing my panicked look once she shoves wet locks of escaped hair from her forehead. “Guess I do need the practice.”
This time, when she lays back, I’m a foot away. I’ve got one hand under her shoulders, ready to catch her in a split-second if needed, and the other I’m trying to keep from straying. It’s not easy with her this close. Her body fit snug into the wetsuit, eyes closed, skin glistening in the sun, covered in diamond-bright water droplets. She parts her lips to let out a slow breath, and I feel her relaxing, sinking down into my palm.
When I see a wave coming, I brace us both until it passes, and soon she’s stable.
“Okay, now with the buoyancy control, you want to set it to the point where you’re just floating with your lungs full, and sinking when y
ou exhale,” I explain, voice soft and quiet. In the shadow of Roanish, it feels like we’re in a private cove. The waves lap around us, but even the gulls seem quieter here in the shade. The breeze on shore seems far away, and Callie’s right here.
She adjusts the dial, looking to me for guidance, but there’s something else there. It’s not just in my head, is it? There’s a flush on her cheeks, a look of hunger in her eyes.
Suddenly her weight’s heavy in my hand, and my other comes up to support her, inadvertently cupping her ass before I quickly correct to the backs of her thighs.
“Ooh!” Callie cries, eyes going wide in the split moment before she knows she’s safe.
“Don’t worry, I got you,” I reassure her. I swear I can feel her body heat through the neoprene and I’m itching to touch her skin-to-skin.
Knock it off, I warn myself.
“Might’ve gone too far there,” I say, re-adjusting the dial. “Takes some getting used to.”
It’s not long before she’s floating on her own again, and my hands ache to touch her again.
She doesn’t really need me for this, though. Now that she’s got the buoyancy control, floating shouldn’t be a struggle at all. Doesn’t mean I’m moving. My little inlet’s gotten a lot less predictable since I assured Callie it was safe. I don’t want it to make a liar out of me.
As quiet blossoms between us and the silence drags on, I’m thinking more and more about last night and all the things we still haven’t talked about.
And we never will talk about any of it if I don’t say something. I know Callie’s not going to bring it up on her own.
“So uh… That guy last night?”
She stiffens instantly. “Trenton.”
“He’s your… ex?” I hazard. She made it pretty clear she’s not happy with him, but the man himself seemed to be under the impression they’re still an item.
“Yep.”
She’s really not giving me anything here. I can tell she doesn’t want to talk about it, and I should probably just leave it be.
I’m not great at doing what I should when it comes to Calypso Seaver. Never have been.
After a long enough stretch of silence, I grunt.
“Seems like a dick.”
She frowns, not looking my way, eyes still closed against the sunlight. “Yeah,” she finally agrees.
I’m dying to know the story there. How did she end up with a guy like that? What’s he got to offer her? What’d he do to screw it up?
But Callie’s not offering up any information. She’s volunteering nothing, and I’m willing to bet she probably expects I’m just going to let it go because I don’t like prying.
Well, Cal’s got a thing or two to learn about me after all these years. I might not like prying, but I’ve been in the dark about what’s going on with her for so long that I’m not giving up an opportunity to figure it out. Prying required or not.
“What’s he doing here?” I ask, figuring that’s safe enough to start with.
Callie shifts her body so she’s bobbing upright same as me, giving me an expression that’s telling me I need to leave it alone.
Oh well.
“Says he wants to get back together,” she says, confirming my worst fears. Bad enough that douche is here stirring up trouble, but he’s trying to take Callie back with him? She only just got here. I haven’t even had a chance to…
To what?
There’s no hope for something happening between us. I’m stuck in a teenager’s infatuation.
“I see… You considering it?”
Silence.
Complete and total deafening silence.
Callie doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she levels a stern glare at me that would make the most hardened criminals rush for a confessional. I don’t know what I’ve done to earn it, but I’m ready to repent.
Maybe she just doesn’t want to admit it to me. Maybe she’s afraid I’ll react poorly.
Can’t say I won’t, but I’d never hurt her or make a scene. I know how to take rejection with quiet dignity.
She sighs heavily and I brace myself, stomach churning, jaw clenched tight.
“No. I’m not,” she answers.
“Ah,” is all I can manage while my heart’s racing. Play it cool, man. This still doesn’t mean anything. Just because she’s not with him doesn’t mean she’s going to be with me.
She shoves wet hair out of her face again, shaking her head.
“He’s an ass and I should’ve seen it sooner,” she huffs.
I don’t trust myself to say anything. No matter what comes out is going to sound petty toward that Trenton tool and too eager for Callie. The girl’s got enough going on without me trying to knock down her door right after she’s closed it on someone else.
I can’t deny that I’m in a much better mood, though. Knowing she’s unattached brightens my day a little, even if I’m honest with myself and acknowledge I don’t have a shot. At least no one else does right now either.
“You hungry?” I ask suddenly, a wave pushing us apart so I have to swim back to her.
“Hmm?”
“We started later than usual. Normally I get lunch after our morning lesson but… Why don’t we grab something at the Duck?”
You’re being too obvious. Find out a girl’s single and immediately ask her out? What is this, Miles, the minor leagues?
She hesitates, clearly seeing all the same shit I do.
“Miles, I—”
“Just lunch. There’s a double cheeseburger that’s calling my name,” I say, cutting off her protest before it can get legs. “You can have my pickles,” I add, hoping that’ll sweeten the deal.
She thinks on it a moment longer before shaking her head.
“All right, fine. I could eat.”
Success.
“After you,” I gesture for the ladder, wanting to be sure she’s safely out of the water before I leave.
Doesn’t hurt that I get the world’s greatest view of her ass from down here.
Callie changes inside, the longest three and a half minutes of my life, and then it’s my turn. I’m in a hurry to dry off completely and pull out fresh clothes when the shard on the table catches my eye, glinting blue from across the cabin.
I’ll deal with him later. Right now, I need to get back to Callie before she’s got a chance to change her mind.
On deck, she’s squinting in the emerging sunlight, clouds parting above to show pale blue.
“So… Meet you there?” she asks, glancing over.
“Huh?”
“At the diner? I’ve got my bike…” she says with a gesture toward the dock. There’s a little white bicycle leashed to a piling near shore.
I hold back a laugh and shake my head.
“Let’s take mine.” She’s already halfway down the dock and looks at me confused.
“Yours?”
“In the garage,” I say, nodding my head toward the wooden shack leaning to one side.
Callie’s eyes get narrower, so I take the lead, forging ahead.
“You’re joking, right?” she laughs when I walk back out pushing my bike, a well-loved Honda Hawk.
I lift a brow.
She sighs.
“Of course you’re not joking. This thing can’t be safe,” she mutters, shaking her head.
It’s not how most people react to Suzy and I’m feeling a little offended on her behalf.
“I’m not going to steer you wrong,” I tell her, offering my spare helmet to her.
She smirks. “Well I’d hope not if you’re driving.”
“Is that a yes?”
She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
I give her my leather jacket, just in case. It’s a short ride, but it only takes a few feet of asphalt to make minced meat of flesh. If the bike goes sideways for any reason, I’d much rather it be me with the hamburger arms.
She’s settled in behind me before I start it up, and in that moment of
quiet before the engine purrs to life, I hear her shallow breathing. Hell, I’m pretty sure I can hear her heartbeat. I crank the ignition and make sure she’s secure before taking off.
Her squeezing me tight, pressed up against me like this isn’t the only reason I wanted to take the bike, but it sure is a hell of a plus. Walking to the diner from my place would take ages and I don’t trust that we wouldn’t be caught in a downpour halfway there.
Sure is a good cover story.
Callie’s arms tighten as the road shifts downhill. It’s hard to concentrate on driving with all my blood rushing to my dick, but luckily I know these roads like the back of my hand and the trip to the Duck isn’t long at thirty-five miles per hour.
“Look at that, you survived,” I tease, pulling off my helmet outside the diner.
Callie does the same, shaking out her still-damp hair. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You own the motorized death machine and I’m the unreasonable one.”
I shrug. “Gotta have fun somehow, don’t I?”
“I thought that’s what the boat was for?”
“That’s work.”
Her lips purse. “But it’s work you enjoy, right?”
I shrug again. “You ever hear that you shouldn’t make money off a hobby? Once it becomes work, it’s not fun anymore. I still enjoy diving, but it’s more of a necessity than anything…”
Getting a little too close to the truth there. A truth I’m not sure Callie’s ready to hear. I don’t know that she ever will be.
“Fancycakes!” Iseul calls when we walk in. He’s grinning in Callie’s direction and she turns bright red.
“Hey Is,” she answers with a tiny wave.
The fry cook is fairly new in town, so I don’t know how the hell Callie knows him. She’s been around for a little while now, but I didn’t get the impression she was trying to make friends. I’m tempted to ask about it, but I know I’m just deflecting. Trying to delay the inevitable.
She wants to go down tomorrow. She’s going to see it for herself, and if I let that happen without telling her, she’s going to wonder what else I’m hiding.
I have to tell her about what I saw underwater.
Right after we order.
“Hey kids, know what it’ll be?” Judy asks, straight to the point as always. This place hasn’t been around too long, but it’s quickly become a town favorite. There’s just a welcoming vibe about it, even with Judy’s less-than-sunny disposition.