Page 26 of The Pilot & the Athlete

His eyes widened. She’d guess the lake was about 500 feet at its longest point, roughly three lengths of an Olympic pool.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that long, and I’m all tuckered out. You should want a longer race.” She looked up at Walker and pumped her eyebrows.

He grinned at her. “He doesn’t stand a chance, does he?”

“No, sir.”

They all laughed.

“All right. Let’s do it. Let me get warm.” Paul did a slow breaststroke toward the far edge of the lake.

Shay followed, trying not to giggle. “That’s your race stroke?”

His cheek crinkled appealingly as they reached a shallow spot where they could both touch. The bottom of the lake was silty muck with a few rocks.

“Slow but steady wins the race,” he said.

“Not this race.” She was going to demolish him. “Walker,” she called. “You want to count us down?”

“Sure.”

“Give me a moment.” Paul moved up close to her. His arm brushed hers and she filled with tingly warmth.

“Distracting me isn’t going to help you,” she teased him.

“I’m distracting you?” He trailed his fingers across her arm and then to her lower back. Heat pulsed through her and her eyes widened. What was he doing?

He slid his arm around her waist.

“What kind of a swim race is this?” she asked breathlessly.

His dark eyes sparkled. “One I’m going to win.”

“How will you do that?” She tried to talk normally, but she was too affected by his hand on her hip, his muscular arm against her bare back, his side pressed against hers.

“You’ll see.” He winked.

Did he plan on winning by taking all of her oxygen because of his mind-blowing touch?

“Okay, count it, Walker,” he called.

“Three … Two …”

She tried to pull free, but his other hand came around her waist and he effectively trapped her in his arms.

“Paul,” she cried out, laughing.

“One!”

Paul’s strong hands framed her waist and lifted her into theair. “Wait for it,” he teased, holding her aloft. She’d never felt so small and light. He launched her into the air. She splashed into the water and came up sputtering and laughing.

“No shot,” she yelled at him, but he wasn’t there.

Paul was swimming fast, hard strokes across the lake, racing away from her. She couldn’t help but laugh and heard Walker laughing too, then she took off. She swam after him like it was the World Championships.

He was nearing the other bank when she drew level with him. She reached the end of the lake and flipped the other direction. He did an ungraceful turn. She sailed away from him. Her arms actually felt a lactic acid build up as she raced for the other bank. She was pushing hard, and she hadn’t had a challenge in over two months.

She reached the bank and stood in the three-foot water, punching her fists in the air. “Yes! I’m cracked!”

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