Page 49 of Reel Love

He looks different. Relaxed. Scrumptious.What?No. Well, yes. But, no. Obviously, no.

Brigitte is looking between me and Stevens, realizing we know one another.

She sticks her hand out. “Hi. Brigitte. And you are?”

Stevens sluices through the water with purposeful strides. He’d never fall off a rock. He’s far too surefooted and seemingly built for the ocean. He’s like Poseidon, emerging from the depths with a swagger and confidence that belies the fifteen minutes of our first encounter at Joel’s boat. This man is not that man—not at all—and yet, he is.

“Stevens,” he says, shaking Brigitte’s hand. “Wait. Brigitte?”

“Stevens?”

“Yes!” They both exclaim at the same time.

“Alana,” he smiles broadly at me. “Forgot your suit?”

I laugh, tipping my head to the side to wring some water from my hair and then scrunching it out of habit, to shape the curls as they dry.

“We weren’t exactly planning on swimming,” Brigitte says, beaming up at Stevens.

“We were taking a selfie and I slipped,” I explain.

He smiles and his mouth tips up on one side, revealing a dimple I hadn’t noticed before.

“Did you get the selfie?”

“We did!” Brigitte exclaims.

“Good. Good. Well, next time you want to check out this cove, let me know. I’m glad to take you two out in proper gear.”

“Snorkeling?” Brigitte asks.

“Yeah. Or diving. Whatever you want.”

“Sounds amazing.” She looks over at me. “Doesn’t it, Alana?”

“Yeah. Amazing. Right. That would be great.”

Stevens looks at me with a question on his face.

“We’d better head back,” I say. “Brigitte has to catch the ferry this afternoon.”

Stevens nods in that calm, steady way of his. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later, Alana. If you need a ride, that is.”

“Nice to meet you,” Brigitte gushes.

We’re only halfway across the sand when my assistant turns and glances over her shoulder at Stevens again. “That man is beautiful. Why didn’t you say something? You’ve been riding back and forth across the channel with him all week and you never told me he was a hottie.”

I chuckle. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Oh, it’s relevant, alright. Gah. Did you see him coming up out of that water like some merman returning to land? What a vision. He’s gorgeous. And he seems so kind.”

“He is,” I agree.

“Too bad,” she coos.

We reach the trail and turn up the first switchback, giving me the perfect vantage point to watch as Stevens grabs a towel that was sitting on a rock where I didn’t even notice it before. He runs it across his hair, ruffling it dry and then shakes the rest of the droplets loose while he drapes the towel over his shoulders. Then he turns and picks his snorkel and mask off the rock where he set them. I’m imagining he’s going to follow us up the trail, but he stays on the beach, staring out at the ocean with the look of a man in love written all over his face. He loves the ocean. And the feeling seems to be mutual.

“What’s too bad?” I ask Brigitte, shaking myself from watching my substitute water taxi pilot.

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