Page 72 of The Bodyguard Situation

Then I dive in after her, water rushing around me like a jolt to the system. She squeals as I resurface near her, and her laughter wraps around me like a second current, pulling me in, deeper than the water ever could.

“Now admit I’m not.”

“Guess you proved me wrong.” She smirks, swimming toward me until we’re just inches apart.

The warmth from the sunshine covers us as the mood turns more serious. Her blue eyes glimmer, her dark hair is slicked straight back, and droplets of water cling to her sun-kissed shoulders like scattered pearls. There’s fire behind her eyes as she coaxes me to come even closer. And I do.

“If you keep looking at me like that,” she says, her voice hushed but electric, “I might think you have a crush on me.”

I lick my lips, studying hers. “What if I do?”

“Do you?” Her smile tilts, like she already knows.

Silence streams between us.

“Mmm. The nonanswer answer—love those,” she whispers, closing the last space between us.

My fingers find her waist beneath the water. She doesn’t flinch. She leans in.

“What do you think?” I ask, breath ghosting across her lips.

Her lashes flutter as her eyes close. “I can only hope.”

I don’t wait another second. I kiss her again. It starts soft, like we’re testing the edge of something too big to name. But her lips part with a sigh that undoes me, and before I know it, we’re clinging to each other, mouths urgent, bodies tangling in the water like we’ve been trying not to fall for years. She presses closer, fingers threading into my hair, her body molding against mine with no hesitation. No walls. Just heat and skin and want.

I can’t get enough of her. Of this. Of us. Her name’s on my tongue, and I want her, need her more than I need air, when lightning strikes nearby in a loud crack.

Our eyes jolt open just as thunder slams overhead like the sky’s being ripped apart.

Harper clutches close to me. We’re both panting, eyes wide, lips kiss bitten. We’re drunk on one another, lost in the high of finally fucking crossing the line.

“Well,” I say, trying to catch my breath, “that’s one way to kill the mood.”

But she isn’t looking at me anymore. Her gaze lifts toward the sky, where mist rises and sunlight cuts through the shadows like a spotlight. A rainbow has formed from the mist of the waterfall, and she smiles.

Floating there—fluttering just above the surface—is a butterfly. Pale yellow, wings delicate and shimmering like it doesn’t belong to this world at all.

Harper goes completely still, and a soft smile touches her lips. It’s smaller than before, but deep.

“What is it?” I ask, voice low.

She doesn’t answer at first. Just keeps watching the butterfly until it drifts higher and disappears into the trees beyond the falls.

When her eyes meet mine, they’re a little brighter than they were a moment ago.

“Nothing,” she says. “Just … the universe. Those little signs show up when I least expect it.”

And for once, I don’t need the full story.

The storm rumbles in the distance, the fire between us still smoldering, but now wrapped in something gentler. Something bigger than the whole fucking sky.

I steal another kiss, and she whimpers against me as I thread my fingers through her wet hair.

Before the kiss deepens further, I pull away. “We should be responsible and head back,” I mutter reluctantly, not wanting this moment to ever end. “Mountain storms move fast.”

“Always so logical.” Harper sighs, but grins.

We swim to the edge, and I pull myself out of the water. When I turn around, Harper’s eyes are focused on me.

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