No lifeguard stations anywhere.
No lights.
And yet, this tipsy woman splashes into the water and dives under a wave like a world-class freestyle swimmer.
Fuck.
I pump my legs to catch up. “Maeve!”
Eerie seconds pass without her head bobbing to the surface. Ice courses through my veins.No, no, no?—
Maeve explodes from the water and spins in a circle. “Magic!”
The relief crashing over me is short-lived.
Because she’s facing me, Maeve can’t see the huge wave rearing up behind her.
“Look out!”
Too late, she attempts to peer over her shoulder. The wall of water bowls her over, yanking her right off her feet. Once again, she disappears from my view. “Shit!”
I rip off my shoes and race into the water. I’m only ankle deep when she reemerges, gasping for breath.
She staggers toward me. I meet her halfway and guide her to the sand. She collapses on her back, giggling up at the inky night sky.
I brace my hands on my thighs, cursing and trying to slow my heart rate before I go into cardiac arrest.
What the hell was she thinking?
But the longer she laughs, the more my anger fades.
That sound is a balm on my soul.
I tower over her, blocking her view of the stars. “What are you laughing at, daredevil?”
“I told you the beach was magic.” She sighs, satisfied. “It makes you forget all your problems for a little while.” With a dreamy smile, she closes her eyes, relaxing into the sand.
The rest of my anger dissipates. How can I possibly stay mad when she’s this happy?
Besides, she’s right.
For those few minutes, my other worries disappeared.
Granted, that was because I thought she was about to drown, but I guess the details don’t matter.
I chuckle and help her to her feet. “You may be on to something.”
We scour the beach for our shoes and hike back toward the boardwalk.
By the time we return to the Cypress, Maeve is shivering.
Now that the levity of her beach stunt has worn off, I’m worried about her catching cold. We may be in California, but the late October evening is chilly.
She needs to go inside and warm up.
Our biggest problem now is how to manage that.
Maeve’s drunk, ice cold, and covered in dried salt and sand. As adorable as I find her in this state, I very much doubt she wants her staff to witness this.
