“You got a stutter or something?”
She looked hurt, and this time, he felt shame. The look on her face told him he’d hit a sore spot.
“Yes, you a-ass! I stutter. When I’m stressed. Or angry.” She frowned and crossed her arms, then seemed to remember the beer in her hand. She gulped it down and shot him another glare.
Bran raised an eyebrow. She wanted to get drunk? Fine by him. She could climb her drunk ass up the sand on her own, once he got her off the boat. It wasn’t like she was a resort customer. He didn’t need to give Ireland special treatment.
Normally, he wouldn’t take off his shirt in front of someone like Ireland. Didn’t want to give any woman the wrong idea. But at this point, there was no way she’d come on to him again. He’d solidly pissed her off. He’d not meant to make fun of her stutter, but at least she wouldn’t try to flirt with him.
Confident there’d be no further temptation, Bran peeled off his shirt to cool off.
He sank onto the lounge opposite the one Ireland had been using, and tipped the bill of his ball cap down, closing his eyes. Might as well grab some shut-eye while she drank and ate.
Rustling noises came from her side of the boat. He ignored them.
Then came gulping sounds, of what he assumed was her chugging the rest of her beer. Followed by thethunkof the bottle on what Bran assumed was one of the boat’s small built-in tables.
Bran refrained from letting out a harsh breath. Pretty soon she’d settle, and he could grab some Zs until it was time to go. Then he’d be done with this little adventure entirely.
The boat tipped slightly, and a loud splash startled him.
“Eee!”
Bran shoved up his hat and sat up.
What dideeemean? “What are you doing?”
He couldn’t see her, and she didn’t answer. Fucking hell.
Bran stood and looked out… At the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
Ireland was floating on her back, her shapely body bobbing lightly in the dark blue water, long red hair fanning out around her.
But Ireland’s eyes were closed and her teeth chattered. Her skin appeared more pale than normal.
Without thinking, Bran kicked off his flip-flops and dove in. He sprang up from beneath the water and flung his head back, clearing water from his eyes.
Ireland was staring at him, upright now, teeth still chattering. “Wh-what are you…doing?” This time the stutter appeared to be caused by the chattering teeth.
“Making sure you’re okay.” Her lips were turning blue.
Bran and his brothers were used to the cold lake, but they’d grown up here.
“Now you care?”
“Not really, but I’m responsible for bringing your body back alive.”
“You ass!”
“You’re going to need to come up with another name for me. That one’s getting old.”
“Arrogant, rude, pigheaded, hat-wearing—”
“‘Hat-wearing?’ Are you trying to insult me, or describe my outfit? Because I gotta say, that one doesn’t even come close to stinging.”
She shoved her hand forward and splashed a load of water in his face.
He swiped a hand across his eyes. “That how it’s gonna be?”
