Modern Heart: City Love 3

by Belinda Williams

  All the women, including me, turned to him. “He can surf,” we all said in unison, and Paul chuckled again and held up his hands.

  “Alright, I believe you.”

  John flashed our group a smile as he went past.

  “Go, John!” Cate shouted, way too loudly.

  The rest of us waved and smiled.

  At the shore line, John paused and shrugged on his wet suit, the powerful muscles in his shoulders rippling in the sun. Then he strode into the water, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He paddled through the waves until he was just a distant black blob floating on the ocean.

  We waited in silence, sipping our wine and crunching on our food.

  Then he stood up.

  He caught the wave effortlessly. It was as if the water was cradling him. Most normal people would be terrified by the wall of water chasing behind. John seemed oblivious, his surfboard slicing through the water smoothly, his body in control yet relaxed at the same time.

  “God, he makes it look so easy,” Cate breathed.

  “It’s not,” Maddy informed us, and she would know.

  Last year John had taught Maddy how to surf, but she’d had to take a break when she discovered she was pregnant.

  “Getting on the board is next to impossible, although I managed to do that much. Staying on it? Forget it.”

  John was closer to shore now and I could make out his muscular form molded in his black wet suit for all the world to see. The white wash was bearing down on him, a constant threat. John rode the wave back and forth, taunting the white froth on his tail. He raced the wave to the edge and in one swift movement, slipped off the board and into the pounding surf, disappearing into a frenzy of bubbles and spray.

  “He can surf,” I heard Paul say.

  John emerged from the water, flicking the hair from his eyes. Why he didn’t get it cut short was beyond me. He was constantly pushing it away from his face. Alright, so it suited him long. There was that.

  We spent the rest of the morning reapplying sunscreen, eating, and responsibly alternating water and wine while we watched the competition. By the time lunch was over we were all well and truly relaxed.

  Just after one o’clock a long shadow fell across my legs. All I could see were legs and a pair of feet. I moved the hat that was partially covering my eyes to protect my face from the sun.

  “Is this towel taken?” John asked, looking down at me.

  I shrugged at Christa’s empty towel. “It’s free.”

  John eased himself down next to me and sat with his arms resting on top of his knees. He’d lost the wet suit and wore a simple black pair of board shorts, still naked from the waist up.

  “Where’s everyone else?” he asked.

  I sat up, brushing sand from my stomach. “Gone swimming.”

  Christa, Max, Maddy, Paul, and the boys had opted to wake themselves up with a swim in the nearby ocean pool. Meanwhile Cate and I were content dozing in the afternoon sun.

  I felt John’s eyes on me. I wasn’t the self-conscious sort and I couldn’t care less that I was only wearing a black bikini. The fact that half the women sitting nearby were deliberately falling out of their bikinis didn’t bother me. My Asian heritage ensured there was no risk of me falling out of mine. I might be petite, but I was toned and athletic, which was more important to me. Besides, I’d never had any complaints from the opposite sex.

  John’s eyes respectfully returned to my face. “You’ve been here all day and you haven’t been swimming?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s like she’s allergic to the salt or something,” Cate commented, watching us curiously over the top of her book.

  “You can swim, can’t you?” John asked.

  I gave him a dark look.

  He responded with a raised eyebrow and a slight quirk of his lips. “Is that ‘Piss off, John, of course I can swim’? Or, ‘Piss off, John, I don’t like you highlighting my lack of swimming ability’?”

  “Right.” I stood and glared down at him. “Last one past the breakers buys everyone a round of beers later.”

  John frowned, confusion creating what Cate would probably refer to as an endearing little line between his brows. “Scarlett. I’m a surfer. I’m practically twice your height—”

  I left him sputtering excuses and sprinted toward the water. Cocky smart ass. I’m a surfer. You’re just a tiny little woman who couldn’t possibly hope to out-swim a big, strong man like me.

  By the time I reached the shallows and my feet were slapping against the damp sand, John had obviously come to his senses.

  “Scarlett, I was just joking. You don’t have to—”

  The sound of his voice disappeared as I dived under the white wash. I kicked my legs hard to push against the oncoming waves and propelled myself forward underwater before I came up for air.

  I emerged a few moments later, assessing the swirling ocean around me. I had at least another ten meters before the next big breaker would be on top of me. I ducked my head down and swam. It had been over fifteen years but I could still hear the instructor’s voice in my head.

  Strong arms! Reach! And legs! Use your legs! Kick, kick, kick!

  I ignored the bite of the salt on my skin and the stinging sensation in the corners of my eyes. Back then I’d had goggles and it had never been in salt. I fucking hated salt water.

  Instinctively I brought my head up, just in time to take a deep breath before a wall of angry, frothing water exploded on top of me. Under the chaos of the wave breaking overhead, I pushed forward. I didn’t swim much these days and I ignored my burning muscles protesting. I’d pay for it tomorrow, but right now I didn’t care.

  When I broke the surface of the water, the worst of the wave’s tempestuous outburst was over and it was gliding smoothly toward the shore.

  A dark head popped up beside me. “Scarlett! You’ve proven your point. The current out here today is pretty strong—”

  “First past the breakers, John!” Honestly. Surfer boy might look tough, but he was sounding awfully soft.

  Head down, I let the motion of the freestyle pull me through the water. As much as I’d complained that I hated it when I was a kid, there was a sort of poetry to the rhythm of swimming. Arms slicing decisively through the water, pulling you forward, legs propelling you. The motion became a weightless gliding.

  I was vaguely conscious of John beside me, matching me stroke for stroke. The idea that he might be holding back pissed me off further. I met the breaking waves fearlessly, not giving any thought to how far out we had gone. I just wanted to win.

  When my head rose above the aftermath of yet another angry wave, and all I saw was the endless stretch of dark blue ocean, I tilted my face to the sun in triumph. The water moved with the gentle rise and fall of the current. It struck me that it was a kind of fluid beast. It appeared calm on the surface yet underneath its fingers of rage were just waiting to burst forth into frothy displays of bad temper.

  “Scarlett!”

  John came to my side in a few sure strokes, his usually calm expression replaced with something almost dangerous.

  “We need to swim back to the shore. Now.”

  “Well, you’re a sore loser—”

  “I don’t give a fuck that you beat me. The current has already taken us further out than we should be.”

  I closed my mouth in shock. Usually I’d take him to task on his less than Mr. Nice Guy tone, but the bit about the current was kind of worrying. I kept treading water and looked around me, registering where I was for the first time. In my desire to beat him, I’d completely failed to notice where we’d ended up. The people on the shore were tiny dots in the distance. It felt like we were miles out. The surfers over to our east were in front of us, rather than behind us, which is where they should have been if we’d been swimming where it was safe.

  My goal of beating him past the breakers had led us right into a rip current.

  Chapter 4

  “A
lright, here’s what we need to do,” John told me, determination shining in his dark eyes. “I need you to start swimming toward the headland.”

  I looked across at the towering formation of gray sandstone. While I had to admit it seemed like a pretty reliable landmark to aim for, the beach held a lot more appeal. “It will be quicker if we just swim back.”

  I turned in the direction we had come from.

  “Scarlett! Are you crazy?”

  John’s large palm grabbed my shoulder tightly. I whirled on him, ready to put him in his place, but stopped when I saw his look of pure exasperation.

  “Scarlett,” he said again, like he was talking to a small child, “you can’t swim that way.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I can swim that way.” I tried to shrug off his hand but his fingers dug into my skin.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t achieve your swim star status in the surf,” John said under his breath, and I resisted slapping his hand away. “We’re right in the middle of a rip. If you try to swim back the way we came all you’ll do is tire yourself out and not get anywhere.”

  Oh. I considered debating with him on that point. After all, I was strong swimmer. Then again so was he, and if his six foot plus powerful surfer’s physique couldn’t swim back that way, then maybe I couldn’t either.

  “So we swim across the rip? Can we get out of it that way?” Even while we’d been treading water and talking I realized we’d moved out to sea at least another ten meters. Shit.

  “The rip is narrow in that direction. See how it’s darker here and further over there the water is brighter? That’s where the rip ends.”

  “Got it.” I was done talking. Or arguing. I didn’t want to be floating any further out to sea.

  We both turned in the direction of the headland and settled into a steady pace. God. Strong swimmer or not, I didn’t want to think about what would have happened if I’d been caught out here alone. It reaffirmed my extreme dislike of salt water.

  I wasn’t entirely sure how far across we’d swum when I felt John’s hand brush my arm underwater. I raised my head, ignoring the tingle on my skin from the contact. “Yeah?”

  He nodded back in the direction we’d come. “We’re out.”

  “Thank fuck.” He was right. The area of water where we were now wasn’t anywhere near as dark as before. “Thanks, lifesaver John.” Sarcasm aside, I was actually very grateful.

  “Yeah, well we still have to swim back to shore. Think you’ve got it in you? We’ve swum a long way.”

  I frowned. “I don’t think I’ve really got a choice, do I?” I was fine, and frankly, I didn’t like what he was implying.

  “I can get the boys to bring the boat out here and pick you up.”

  The “boys” he was referring to were obviously the lifesavers, who I was pretty certain he was on a first name basis with. And I’d die first. There was no way my friends were seeing me being rescued by a group of surf lifesavers. Not to mention the shame it would bring on my family after all those years of swimming squad training.

  I gave John a withering look. “I won’t be requiring lifesaving today, thank you.”

  “You’re cold.”

  He swam closer to me, those dark eyes studying me with genuine concern. I closed my mouth because I realized my teeth were chattering.

  He did that half frown thing again where it created the little line between his eyebrows. I looked away.

  “Swimming will warm me up,” I announced, and kicked off toward the shore.

  I hadn’t anticipated how I would navigate the waves on my return journey. On the way out they’d been formidable walls of water, but with the right timing I’d been able to escape beneath the surface until the worst of it washed over my head.

  I felt a pang of something. Not fear exactly. More like wariness.

  I reached the spot where the water was morphing from smooth and calm into a rolling mass of thundering wave, then hesitated.

  “I’ll go first!” John called out above the roaring waves. “Then you ride the next wave after me.”

  Ride? Had he forgot he’d left his board back on the beach? I was about to open my mouth to protest. I didn’t get the chance to argue because he’d figured out that the best way to deal with my objections was to ignore them.

  He swam forward and waited, then disappeared beneath the crest of a particularly nasty looking wave. I felt my stomach clench. After the rip adventure, I didn’t like the idea of being alone out here.

  Scanning the water intently I saw John surface about fifty meters away, flicking the hair from his eyes. I couldn’t see his expression but he was treading water waiting for me. I swam reluctantly in his direction, conscious I was about to enter the danger zone.

  I turned my back on John and waited. I swallowed when the wave gathered itself up and rolled toward me, frothy white water already bubbling at the tip. Swim squad hadn’t really covered how to catch a wave.

  “Start swimming!” I heard John yell.

  “Oh shit.” I used long strokes, stretching my arms as far as I could. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to catch the wave or swim away from it.

  I felt the tug of the wave grab me from behind. Then it was pushing me forward, driving me toward John and the shore. My breath came in hard, fast gasps as I tried not to scream. I wasn’t in control anymore and I didn’t like it one bit.

  When I was a few meters from John, I gulped a deep breath and ducked beneath the water’s surface just in time to hear the wave explode above me. Underwater it was like a bubbling cauldron. I waited, the air I’d forced into my chest pressing insistently on my rib cage, until the bubbles dispersed and the water started to clear.

  “Alright?”

  I stifled a cry. John was right next to me, his hand cradling my arm the moment I surfaced. No, I wasn’t bloody alright. My heart was pounding in my chest and my lungs were crying out for air. Not to mention the wall of watery death intent on killing me.

  I felt him squeeze my arm. God he was tactile –

  “Ready for another one?”

  I bit back one of my more unladylike rants. Christ. The next wave was already bearing down on us.

  I didn’t have time to reply. We started swimming and it picked us both up, an invisible hand with the power to crush us.

  I glanced over at John. He was body surfing the wave like he was on his goddamn surfboard. He was doing that ‘at one with the water’ thing again. It was like he was some sort of man cross amphibian.

  I realized too late that I’d been distracted by John’s skills. The wave flicked me up toward its peak, just as it was curving and cascading into a waterfall of breaking water. It threw me downward. Even if I’d had a chance to take a breath, all of it would have been knocked out of me as my body hit the water’s surface.

  The force of it winded me. Which was bad. Really bad. Trapped in the whirling chaos of salt and effervescing water, I couldn’t see which way was up. Everything looked the same and all I wanted to do was take a breath of air because my lungs were screaming at me.

  The swirling water immediately washed away tears of gut wrenching fear. Wasn’t fear supposed to prompt some sort of survival instinct? All it made me want to do was inhale water and cry in desperation and frustration. Somehow I managed to keep my mouth closed although my chest burned, my eyes felt like they were doused in acid, and I still didn’t know which way was up.

  Around and around I went and it seemed pointless trying to swim anywhere because I couldn’t tell where I was supposed to go. After a while I found I didn’t care anymore. My body stilled. If I’d been more lucid and less terrified I’d have understood it had something to do with the lack of oxygen.

  My chest was close to bursting and my lungs begged for relief.

  I opened my mouth.

  A strong arm encircled my chest and pulled me upwards. Bright light pierced my eyes as I was ripped from the water.

  “Scarlett!”

  John’s voi
ce was distant and I couldn’t respond because I was coughing. Huge, wracking coughs that confused themselves with my body’s desire to inhale air. It should have been as simple as air in and air out but something was wrong.

  A viscous cough doubled me over and I felt as though it was pulling my insides out. I spewed gushes of sea water followed by an impressive concoction of Cate’s nibbles.

  John’s grip tightened around my chest. “Hold on. Just hold on.”

  Something in John’s tone of voice made me look up. Oh God. Another wave was bearing down on us. “Can’t. Swim,” I rasped.

  “I know, and I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

  John started swimming, or half-swimming, because I was tucked neatly under one of his arms. It should have slowed him down, and probably did, but we still seemed to be moving efficiently through the water.

  The next wave picked us up and I instinctively nestled my head against his chest. No way was I allowing him to let go of me right now.

  John body-surfed the wave, albeit lopsided because I was dragging him down. Thankfully we were getting closer to the shore. This time he rode the wave until it magically disappeared into a shallow fizzle of froth. I could hear his heart pounding a steady rhythm where the side of my face pressed against his chest. It sounded strong and sure.

  John was able to stand and the muscles in his biceps bulged reassuringly from the effort of carrying me. I looked up at him. His strong jawline was set with determination and his eyes were on the beach ahead.

  “Let me go,” I said, but it came out a whisper.

  He glanced down at me, but didn’t stop moving. “We’re almost there.”

  “Let. Me. Go.” My voice sounded harsh even to my own ears.

  John paused. We were between the flags again. People were splashing and swimming in the water around us, oblivious to our little rescue mission.

  “I can stand,” I told him.

  Doubt shadowing his eyes, he reluctantly loosened his grip on me but didn’t let go.

  My feet found the sand underneath us. What I would have given for some firm ground, but the sinking sand swirling around my toes would have to do.

  I pushed against his side so I could stand up and his arm dropped away.