Page 36 of A Shore Fling
“Likable or not, Brick’s not here to drag your floating ass back to shore, right?”
She lifts her chin. “No, but I wish he could.”
“Well, I’m all you’ve got.”My fingers hook around the rope attached to her tube, and I start swimming toward shore.
“Want me to read aloud to you?” she calls out.
“No!”
“Your loss.” I imagine her shrugging and going right back to reading, as if this is an everyday occurrence.
I’m so annoyed with her lackadaisical attitude, I don’t even feel the cold anymore. I keep my legs kicking, but I can only stroke with the arm that’s not holding onto the tow rope. It’s not a short swim, and dealing with waves knocking us around, my endurance is being tested. Good thing I hit the gym regularly.
“It’s such a gorgeous day; not a cloud in the sky,” Nina announces. “How was your week? I expected to bump into you again. My first couple of days in town, I couldn’t escape you. I was beginning to think you have a twin or you’ve been cloned.”
Does she expect me to answer?Because I’m one hundred yards from shore, hauling a grown woman on an orange donut through freezing, choppy Maine ocean water with one arm, and my dick has turned into an innie. I’m not exactly in a conversational mood.
But Miss Disaster is floating behind me like she’s coasting along a lazy river at some Bahamian resort.
“You were much chattier the other night with your brothers. Do you have disdain for all visitors or just me?” Her voice is light and chipper, like we’re two friends having lunch.
Pausing, I tread water. “I can let you float off to Canada if you’d like.”
“Jeez. Someone skipped their coffee today.”
I start swimming again. Getting her to the shore before I decide to give up and let us both drift away is of the utmost importance, as I’m currently contemplating being eaten by a shark.And it doesn’t seem like a bad option.
My lungs burn, and I’m concerned my right arm might tear off at the shoulder joint. Keeping my focus on the shore, I remind myself that every stroke brings us closer.
“Are you off work every Saturday?” she asks. “I’m assuming you work Sundays because we met last Sunday.”
I pause, treading water again. “Nina, do you mind? I can’t talk and tow you at the same time.”
“Fine. We can talk when we get to shore.”
I grunt. It’s all I’ve got left in me. Is she that clueless or is she fucking with me? How can someone so exasperating and borderline insane have the infuriating ability to make chaos look effortless? She’s unshakable in unexpected situations, and I hate how much I admire that about her.
The shoreline is finally close enough for a sense of relief to hit. In the sand I see a couple of seagulls and my red t-shirt in a sad little heap, waiting for me like a long-lost friend. We’re maybe fifteen feet out now, close enough for me to stand, but my legs are jelly and my lungs are staging a full revolt. I half swim, half drag her along the final stretch. I try to slow my breathing while Nina hums.
Wait.Is she humming “Under the Sea”?Yep, she is.
The moment my feet hit sand, I stagger upright. Bending at the waist, I place my hands on my knees and gasp for air like I’ve finished a triathlon. Nina rolls off the tube and lands in the shallows, lying there like a mermaid. But unlike Ariel, she has legs—boy, does she have legs. Long and endless.
“I had no idea you were such a strong swimmer,” she says, pushing her wet locks back over her shoulder. “That was kind of hot, honestly.”
I stare at her, blinking saltwater from my eyes. My jaw refuses to unclench while my entire body shakes from a mix of being half frozen and the overwhelming urge to yellwhat the hell were you thinking?But all that I manage is, “You could’ve died.”
She shrugs, still sitting in the knee-deep surf like she’s waiting for me to pick her up. “Almost. But I didn’t, thanks to a grumpy, very heroic harbormaster.”
I don’t know which is worse, that she thinks floating off toward Canada is no big deal, that I can’t stop noticinghow enticing she looks in her red bathing suit, or how she’s unbothered by the entire experience.
She rises like some sea nymph, water streaming off her legs, and grabs the orange tube under one arm. “Come on. You look like you need something to eat and an attitude adjustment.”
I’m still trying to catch my breath while I watch her prance along the sand. Her wet hair sticks to the curve of her neck underneath her hat. Even at the beach, barefoot, dripping, and completely unfazed, she’s still somehow fancy as fuck. And for some reason, the only thing I can think is,God help me, becausefancy never looked so good.
CHAPTER 11
NINA
