I force my mind to stop going off on tangents and finish the last few pages of work. I compose an email, attach the document and click send. Instead of the usual sigh of relief, I feel more anxious than ever. The project’s done, but I still have the swimming lesson with Luca ahead of me. I can’t wait to see him again. But I’m also stressed about it. Why couldn’t I have chatted with him for a few minutes and then ended the conversation with “Have a nice day?” But no, I had to volunteer to give him a lesson after he told me his sad story about not knowing how to swim.
Damn it. I came here to avoid complications, not to walk right into another one. This day could have been like all the other days I’ve had so far here in San Carlos. Uncomplicated. Tension-free. But no, I had to make a mess of things. I dash into the bathroom and slip into my swimsuit. I need this swim more than ever to rid my mind of all this turmoil. The male species has this amazing way of bringing turmoil into my life. Total chaos, actually.
I walk down to the beach, cap and goggles in hand. I gaze out at that blue-green water and hear the sound of waves rolling gently onto the shore. The sea calls to me. Every cell in my body craves immersion. I don’t walk toward the sea, I run to it. My refuge. My safe place where I can escape all my worries.
The rush of water around me and the rhythm of my stroke will drown out what I’d rather forget. Brandon’s rejection. The fear that I’m destined to be alone forever. The sea washes away those feelings of inadequacy. Nature doesn’t criticize. Or judge. It accepts me as I am.
I wade deeper into the water. I can see the sandy bottom and a few dark strands of seaweed. I shuffle my feet through the sand in case there are stingrays, then start swimming once I hit hip-deep water. I stroke over the swells until I’m about 30 feet from shore. Then I follow the contours of the coast, breathing every three strokes so I can see on both sides of me. The water on my face and head clears the haze in my brain and sharpens my thoughts to crystal clear.
Swimming feels like a miracle every time. The rays of golden sunlight penetrate the water’s surface, illuminating tiny particles in the water. The sensation of the water flowing over my bare skin feels like a nurturing massage. Swimming in the sea is sensual, hypnotic. Already, this sea swim has smoothed away the rough edges of my emotions. They don’t feel so overwhelming. The next stroke and the one after that is all that matters. I’m content now to be out here in the present moment, surrounded by this supportive, salty water.
My skin drinks in the sea’s minerals and each time I turn my head, I breathe in the freshness of the salty, fresh sea air. The joy I feel swimming in the sea is hard to quantify. I want to shout out loud.
My swimming destination is the El Soldado Estuary. Whenever I breathe to the left, I see the terracotta structures of my condo complex along with an array of colorful tents, kayaks, and paddleboards on the beach. Whenever I breathe to the right, I see slices of volcanic landscape and a nearby island, but mostly open sea.
I transition from swimming freestyle to breaststroke. I look around for boats and other swimmers and to see if my dolphin friends are around. The place I live is called Bahía Delfin for good reason. Because this truly is dolphin bay. Every day pods of dolphins gracefully glide along the shore, arcing out of the water for a breath and then descending again. Sometimes they’re so far out, I see a flash of movement, blink and look again to see if I can distinguish a shape unique from the moving water. The endless sea teases my imagination, until every wave takes the shape of a dolphin or a sea lion. Freedom. That’s what I experience in the water. I feel uninhibited, like the sea. And so alive.
Last night I dreamed that I stood by a glass window overlooking the sea. I saw a man swimming far from shore. Then I spotted a whale, but it wasn’t the blue or gray I expected—the whale’s skin was iridescent, like inside of an abalone shell. I wondered if the swimmer knew the whale was so close. He started swimming back toward shore. He stopped about twenty feet from shore, pivoted around and swam back out toward the open sea. But this time, he swam further and further from shore until I could no longer distinguish his shape from those of distant waves.
I wonder why I had that dream. Maybe because I, like that man, sometimes want to disappear in the sea forever. Or maybe I had that dream because the first time the dolphins dove underneath me, and I saw their enormous, powerful shapes underwater, my heart rate skyrocketed. I wasn’t afraid, really. Mostly excited. But I wondered if I should have been scared. They’re so much bigger and stronger than me. But I can’t stay away from them. They’re so fascinating. I love to be near the dolphins.
Scientists warn swimmers to be cautious around them. Dolphins are wild animals, they say. But people can be wild, too. Raping, killing, hating people for their religion or skin color. Dolphins must have different personalities just like people. How will I know if a dolphin is a nice guy or a fish with serious issues?
Below me, schools of silver sardines dart this way and that, confused by my presence. They should be more worried about the soaring pelicans. They glide so effortlessly on their lightweight wings. Their sharp eyes see movement and then they dive like a knife into the water, then surface, taking a sip of water to help wash down the fish. And then they swallow. That fish that was swimming one instant is in the bird’s stomach the next.
A cloud of sand rises from the bottom. A startled stingray flaps rapidly away. The longer I swim, the more it feels effortless. My stroke flows with the rise and fall of the sea. My mind feels steady, content as I reach, pull and kick. The time has flown. It’s five minutes until nine. I feel that familiar lurch of sadness. I experience it whenever it’s time to leave the sea. There’s work to get back to. Or shopping to do. And today, there’s a man I barely know waiting for me.
Luca stands on the beach. I can’t miss him—he stands out. He looks so strong and powerful, like a modern-day Hercules. The goggles I gave him are looped around one forearm and his muscular arms are crossed over his broad chest. He’s only a distant silhouette from out here, but his posture looks rigid. Maybe he’s anxious about the swim. Or maybe I make him nervous. He certainly puts me on edge. I’m sure he’ll look hotter than ever up close with his messy hair and Sea of Cortez eyes.
My heart beats faster. I hear the pound of my pulse underwater as I do a slow breaststroke toward shore. I can tell he hasn’t shaved today. That shadow of stubble and his tangled hair—damn, why does Luca have to look so hot? My gaze traces over the slopes and angles of his face. He scrapes a finger across one dimpled cheek. Why is he so anxious? I’m no major distraction. My sister Kelsi would catch his attention for sure. Men always chase her. She’s a bleached blonde, five foot nine, and rail thin like a runway model. She can get any man she wants, but never keeps them for long. She’s no competition for me down here, but so many of these Mexican women on the beach are gorgeous. He can’t possibly be interested in me.
Luca’s a pleasant enough person. And he obviously wanted to learn to swim. It was completely adorable. How could I not to respond to that? But I need to wipe these silly notions from my brain about there being a spark between us. I’m not looking for a relationship anyway. I’ve already been there and done that. I definitely don’t need to go there again. I came to San Carlos to start a new life, not to give another man an opportunity to rip my heart into pieces. I’ll offer Luca a few stroke tips, wish him good luck, and then say Adiós. That makes sense.
What isn’t logical is gawking up at him and conjuring vivid images of kissing and touching. But this view getting larger in front of me isn’t helping support my stay-away-from-him case. My lust alarm bells ring louder and louder as I gaze at him through my goggles. My eyes are wide open and I’m trying not to blink because I don’t want to miss a single second of this delicious view.
The morning sun shadows every bulge in his biceps, every smooth and perfect ridge on his chest and abdomen. I imagine skimming my fingertips over his chest, relishing every hard contour under my touch. My gaze wanders lower, to those happy trails of dark hair that foll
ow the ridges along his lower abdomen until they disappear into the waistband of his form fitting surf shorts. I feel a spike of heat in my center and wonder what his weight would feel like moving over me. Oh, God, this is nuts.
Swimming lesson. You’re going to give the guy a swimming lesson. I let a wave carry me into the shallows and then stand up. His tangled hair hasn’t seen a brush today. He hasn’t shaved. But Luca looks hot. So hot. I wish I could look that good with no effort. I feel self-conscious. I’m dripping wet and probably have seaweed in my hair. I hope to hell there’s nothing gross hanging from my nose. I swipe at it quickly just in case. I just need to pull this off without sounding ridiculous. I want to sound smart and energetic and interesting. But right now, I feel panicky and inadequate.
“Buenos días.” I sound out of breath.
“Buenos días. I watched you swim for a while. You’re an incredible swimmer.” He flashes a heart-melting smile that deepens the sexy dimples around his lips and brings a twinkle to his blue-green eyes. It’s like glittering sunlight on the sea. His hand darts out to steady me when a wave and an awkward hole in the sand cause me to stumble.
A shockwave of pleasure rolls through me. It’s the second time he’s touched me. I have no doubt I’ll be flashing back to the nerve-igniting sensation of his touch all day. “Thanks.” His hand feels so strong and supportive. While I’m thinking how good his touch feels, his grip on my arm slackens. His hand drops back down to his side. I feel a jolt of withdrawal. His touch felt so good. I look at him for a moment, wondering if he felt anything too. If his skin reacted to the contact the way mine did. I can still feel lingering heat where his fingers gripped my arm.
He’s focused on pulling the goggles over his eyes. Maybe he doesn’t want me to read his thoughts. My gaze darts toward Luca’s mouth. His dimples are deeper than ever, like he’s clenching his jaw. He’s anxious, that’s for sure. If only I knew what about. I need to stop staring at his distracting lips and give some instructions. But I’m not sure I can even speak English let alone Spanish while he’s just inches away.
His nearness has sparked a raging storm of heat in my body that is making my nipples tingle and giving me surges of hyperactive energy. I want to run, jump, turn a cartwheel. I clear my throat. “I’m looking forward to this. Teaching you to swim I mean.” I shuffle nervously. “Why don’t you start by showing me a few strokes of freestyle.”
“You want me to put my face in the water?”
He told me yesterday he was uncomfortable putting his face in the water. I should have known better than to skip practicing that skill. “Yes. Why don’t you try it standing first? Just duck under the water and blow air out through your mouth and nose so you don’t swallow water. Then come up again.”
“Okay, let me try.” He takes a couple breaths first, puffing his cheeks out nervously before ducking underwater.
I see bubbles rise to the surface above his head. He comes up and pushes hair from his face. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“It was perfect. Now go down and blow your air out and come up and try to take a single breath before going down again. This will help get you ready for breathing with your stroke.”
He nods. Takes a couple of breaths. Then he starts and takes five complete breaths before stopping. He breathes heavily after finishing. Obviously, he was anxious about it.
“That was perfect,” I compliment him. “How did it feel?”
“Good. I thought putting my face in would be more difficult. But there’s one problem.” He wades into shallower water and pulls the goggles off of his head. His eyes are already ringed by suction marks. “Can you show me how to adjust these goggles? They’re too tight. I tried to adjust them earlier, but I couldn’t figure out how they work.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I have a small head. And these are easy to adjust, but you have to know how to do it.” These goggles—my favorite brand—have a release button to adjust tightness. No more pushing and pulling straps through awkward pieces of plastic.
My fingers brush against his as I take the goggles from his hand. The contact makes my breath catch in my throat. My will is strong. It’s shouting loudly—stay away from men. But there seems to be no way to stop my body from reacting to his nearness. His touch—it’s setting my skin on fire. “Just push this button,” I say in a tremulous voice. “T-Then you can lengthen or shorten the strap. It’s easy once you know how to do it.” I demonstrate, showing Luca how to loosen and tighten the strap before handing the goggles back to him so he can adjust them until they feel just right.
Instead of adjusting the goggles, he just looks at me and smiles. I stare back for a moment and then snap my gaze away. I watch other people on the beach. Kids building sand castles. Toddlers throwing sand. Children and teens gliding on waves toward shore on boogie boards. I can’t look at those blue-green eyes I could drown in. Why can’t Luca put the damn goggles on already? Now I’m feeling bad for not meeting his gaze. I’m teaching him, not random kids on the beach. But the awkwardness makes me want to run away. I don’t want to feel vulnerable like this.
Does he know how distracting he is to me? I’m standing here like a complete idiot dripping wet with a crimson face. Maybe he’ll think my face is still flushed from my long swim. “Are you going to put on the goggles?”
He tugs on the strap and then tries on the goggles twice before he nods and says, “Listo.” Now that his eyes are covered, I find my gaze locking onto his lips. Once again, I imagine what it would feel like to have those lips pressed against mine. A hot possession by that mouth would be incredible. If anyone had kissable lips, it’s him. Oh, God, what did I get myself into? Why couldn’t this be just another normal day? By now I should be back in my condo showering, about to sit in front of the computer to start another writing project. I came to Mexico to start over. To keep it simple. To stay away from men. But that plan isn’t working out well at all. I’m not only letting the enemy touch me, I’m letting him ignite my flesh and make my emotions go haywire.
My gaze wanders over the mounds of his chest and down the plains of his firm, hard abdomen, following the dark hair that leads my gaze toward his waistband and…oh, no, I’m not going there. Not going to imagine him naked. No way. If only my body would stop reacting to him like this. Every nerve ending in my body is vibrating with need. Swimming lesson. You’re giving him a swimming lesson. I clear my throat and cross my hands over my chest. “Don’t forget to shuffle your feet when you walk.”
“Why? Are there stingrays?” His brows raise over his goggle-covered eyes.
“There aren’t too many near shore when the water’s warm. But it can’t hurt to shuffle, just in case.” I watch as he shuffles his feet into deeper water. I wonder if being out in this wild water will be scary for him at first. Many people are afraid of what’s in the water. I’ve heard people scream if a fish brushes up against them. I better not tell him the fish around here like to nibble on toes.
Luca’s expression looks more determined than anxious now, which is a good sign. As he wades out deeper, I wade along with him, wanting to be nearby in case he needs help. He’s a guy after all. He’s unlikely to admit he’s in trouble. He’s all rock-solid sinew and muscle. Even in this salty sea, he might sink straight to the bottom.
“Okay, now try a few strokes with your face in the water. But keep your feet down for now. Just lean over and practice. And remember to blow the air out through your nose and mouth.” I demonstrate what he’s supposed to do.
He leans closer to the water and practices a few strokes with his face in the water. Then without saying anything he plunges forward and tries to actually swim. He takes a few fast strokes, splashing water in every direction. He gasps and lifts his head straight up for a breath. He’s fighting the water instead of working with it. His arm strokes are much too fast. Like he’s moving through air. He never gets a chance to even catch the thick sea water. He stands up suddenly, then sputters and coughs. “That didn’t go so well. Maybe I should try aga
in.”
“It was a good start. A couple of changes will make it much easier.”
He coughs again and gives me a one-sided smile. “I hope so because that was exhausting.” He pauses, still breathing heavily. “I think I just swallowed the whole sea.” He raises his goggles to his forehead and meets my gaze. His eyes, warm with laughter, flicker from blue to green and back again, the way the sea changes color with depth. His wet eyelashes cast shadows across the skin under his eyes.
Maybe when his thoughts and emotions shift, his eyes change color like that. Did he go from thinking about swimming to thinking about something else? Touching me, kissing me, sliding my swimsuit straps slowly from my shoulders… “Choking on water is never fun. I’ve done it enough myself. But a tweak to your stroke can keep that to a minimum.”
“A tweak?” He laughs. His grin deepens the sexy dimples on either side of his mouth. He is so hot, sometimes I forget to breathe when I look at him.
“You won’t inhale water if you slowly blow the air out through your mouth and nose whenever your face is underwater. Just inhale when you turn your head to breathe. Like this.” I show him the head rotation. “When you lift your head to the front, rather than to the side, you’re more likely to swallow water and your feet sink.”
“There’s too much to think about.”
“Try humming whenever you exhale. It will keep a steady stream of air coming out through your nose and mouth.”
I stand beside him. “Let me demonstrate again.” I lean over the water, demonstrating the stroke with the head turn and breath. “And one more thing.”
He laughs again and pushes some wet curls away from his face. “Only one?”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. This next one is an easy fix.”
“I like easy.”
“Remember you’re moving through water, not air. Try to slow down your stroke. That way it will feel easier and you will be working with the water, rather than fighting it.”
Jade's Song (South of the Border Book 2) Page 5
