Waterdreamer (The Emerald Series Book 2)

by Kimberly James

  “No,” I said, not meeting his eyes. I didn’t want to make friends and I didn’t need another hero. “I mean yes. I’m fine.” I didn’t know this guy’s name. I didn’t want to. He was here most mornings, running the trails. I’d seen him and he’d seen me, but this was the first time verbal contact had been made.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  I sensed his eyes on me. Even though he was no longer touching me, it felt like he was, warm and solid where his hands had been on my arms. I couldn’t remember the last time a boy touched me that wasn’t Jamie. Noah didn’t count. Noah was safe. He was family. This boy was… I didn’t know this boy.

  “Yes,” I said with more forcefulness.

  His eyes scanned over my shoulder. “Is that your board?”

  I nodded. It floated peacefully on the water, rocking gently in the small breeze. The boy walked to the end of the dock, full of intent.

  “Don’t go in there!” I warned.

  Too late. My do-gooder leaped off the dock, his shallow dive bordering on a bellyflop. I wanted to call out a warning. But of what? A monster lurking in the lake? Admittedly, I hadn’t really thought it was an alligator stalking me at all.

  He swam easily enough, going for the board first. He jumped on it, laying flat on his stomach and paddled another few yards to where the oar floated in a crop of lily pads close the shoreline. I watched with half an eye as he maneuvered his way back to the dock, knowing I owed him at the very least a thank you. But I was still holding my breath even as he clumsily fell off the board, nearly hitting his head on the dock, waiting for that moment when whatever I had seen or thought I’d seen decided to offer definitive proof that I was indeed not crazy. And then he was standing in front of me dripping wet with a satisfied look on his face. No incidents with snapping jaws. No missing limbs.

  I was an idiot.

  “I’ll help you get to your car,” he said as I bent down to pick up my board from where he laid it on the dock.

  “No, I got it.”

  “You’re hurt,” he said, eyes fixated on the bloody scratch on my skin.

  “I said I’ve got it.” I turned and as best I could, with the board clutched in my arms, made my way back up the dock, not wanting to contemplate why I was in such a hurry. Why I was being such a bitch when he was just being nice. Nice. I didn’t need a nice guy. I didn’t need a guy at all. I’d been down that road, and it ended in absolute heartbreak.

  Blood oozed down my leg. I ignored the bite of the shells under my bare feet as I walked toward my Tahoe. Home. I just needed to get home.

  I loaded my board on top, secured it in place with bungie cords before scrambling into the front seat. The interior wrapped me in heat. I fumbled with my keys, missing the ignition twice before the key slid into place. It wasn’t far to my house, a half a mile if I could sprout wings and fly. But I was human and had to take the four windy turns before I was on my street and cut the engine in my driveway.

  “God, Erin, what is the matter with you?” I leaned my head on the steering wheel and let out a groan. Banged my forehead a few times for good measure. I pulled down the visor and looked at myself in the mirror. Water dripped from my hair and my eyes had a wild look to them.

  “You saw nothing,” I told my reflection. “You heard nothing.”

  After I caught my breath and my hands quit shaking, I crawled out of my car, wincing when my feet touched the warm concrete. I left my flip-flips. My shirt had a rip where it looked like it had caught on a nail.

  This was not how I wanted this day to start.