“You can and you will,” I order as I hold the door open for her.
In spite of her protests, Nadine easily gets in the car, telling me all I need to know. She wants to go parasailing, there’s just some fear. Which is fine, we can work past that.
“I’m not doing this. I’ll just watch you do it and take pictures or something,” she says, folding her arms.
“Why?”
Turning, she gives me an incredulous look. “Because I don’t want to.”
I reach up, tugging at her chin for her to release the pout on her lips. Not because I don’t like the look but because if she keeps that shit up I might decide to take her ass in the back of this car. And I highly doubt Sr. Gonzalez included seeingthatas part of his hourly rate.
She swats my hand away.
“Why?” I question again.
She remains silent.
“You’re afraid of heights, aren’t you?” It wasn’t that she couldn’t swim. We’d spent half of the afternoon out in the water the day before and she had no problem keeping up.
“So what if I am?”
My hand goes to her knee again. “It’s not a problem, butterfly. I’ll be right there with you.”
She glances my way again, and her face softens.
In less than ten minutes we arrive at the beach where Sr. Gonzalez keeps his speedboat.
“Ah! Put me down!” Nadine insists after I catch up behind her, lifting her into the air, to hold her in the cradle position.
“Afraid I’ll drop you?”
“Yes! Put me down,” she insists, squirming.
“I won’t let you fall,” I assert, my voice deepening.
She stops squirming and looks me in the eyes.
I stare back directly into hers. “You have nothing to be afraid of … okay?” I tell her with a seriousness in my tone that surprises even me.
She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she wraps her arms tightly around my neck, silently conveying her trust. Warmth blossoms in my chest as I carry her toward the boat. I loathe that I have to separate our bodies so we can actually climb onto the boat.
“Thank you,” she says lightly once I climb aboard after helping her on.
Sr. Gonzalez, in his broken English, begins to explain the waters we’re about to parasail on. He directs the boat far offshore, as to decrease the risk of running into any swimmers while moving. One of Sr. Gonzalez’ employees came with us to assist him while we were parasailing.
Once we come to a stop, he begins giving us instructions on how to properly wear our life jackets and strap ourselves into the harness. However, when I see him struggling to explain everything in English, I tell him it’s okay to switch to his native tongue. I simply translate the instructions to Nadine.
“You’re fluent in Spanish?”
“Appears so,” I respond, while tugging on the snaps of her life jacket to make sure they’re secure. “How’s that feel?”
“Pretty good. How long have you spoken Spanish?”
“Long time.” Pulling the harness up around her legs, I allow my fingers to graze the smooth skin as I go. I don’t miss the shiver that courses through her body. As I kneel down in front of her, I allow my fingers to rove over the sensitive skin in between her legs. Peering up, I see her eyelids are hooded. She’s remembering the previous night, just as I am.
“Okay …” begins Sr. Gonzalez.
I stand and snap my life jacket closed, securing it and then stepping into my own harness. We already agreed that I would go up first, to give Nadine a sense of security, to see how it’s done. She’ll go up alone after me, and then we’ll do some parasailing together.
