“I’d heard they occasionally visit.”
“Every few years. Last month I got lucky and ran into a small pod about five miles south of here. Four females and three males.”
“What a shocker that must have been. Do they come all the way from the mainland, like the white sharks?” she asked.
“Nah, we believe there’s a Central Pacific population—you can tell them apart by their markings—and they veer into the island chain now and then.”
“We?” she asked.
A pause. “Those of us who... know about orcas. They’re in my blood, what can I say?”
Her heart sang for him because there was a sadness in the way he said it, almost an apology. And she knew that feeling well. Being misunderstood. Apart.
“You don’t have to say anything. I get that,” she said.
“Most people don’t.”
“Would you rather be in the water with an orca or a white shark?” she asked, wanting to lighten the mood, both for his sake and her own.
He leaned sideways toward her. “You must not know much about orcas, ma’am.”
She had to laugh. “Excuse me, but do you know who you’re talking to?”
“A gorgeous and arguably mad marine biologist who has a bunch of fancy letters at the end of her name.”
Heat collected on her neck and the hidden places on her body. “Gorgeousandmadare both debatable, and I do know some about orcas, but not as much as I’d like.”
He leaned back, head tilting skyward. “To answer your question, give me an orca any day. As the largest member of the dolphin family, they are quite possibly the most intelligent animal in the water and they rarely attack humans in the wild. I hate to break it to you, but I think you might be one of the only people alive who would rather swim withCarcharodon carchariasthanOrcinus orca.”
There was something so appealing about a man who spoke Latin to her, and she felt a deep longing for him to show her his northern undersea world and the giant dolphins that inhabited it. Something she understood would probably never happen, and yet a vision of them both in full wet suits staring down a curious orca flitted across her mind like an old black-and-white film. So clear it unsettled her.
“I’ve seen a few pods in Northern California, just passing through, but never had the chance to go down with them. Their size is shocking after getting used to bottlenose dolphins. Maybe in another life I’ll get to know them better.”
“Yeah,” was all he said.
They finally veered south, and they rode for another fifteen minutes or so before Luke cut the engine. Her eyes had adjusted to the night sky, and she watched him go to the built-in cooler and pull out a plastic bag and two bottles, then lay a sunscreen-infused towel on top of the cooler.
“Sorry, it’s a little damp. I wasn’t expecting company,” he said, popping open the caps of the bottles in a one-twopopand handing her one.
His hand brushed against hers, and something about his roughskin gave her a rush between her thighs. Whatever this was between them had a life of its own, and it felt like the more she resisted, the more she was drawn to him. The dangerous unknown had always appealed to her, and Luke in his own beautiful way was just that.
Minnow sat on one side of the food bag, Luke on the other. The sound of deep ocean rose from below them, a blue and insistent hum.
“Do you hear that?” Luke asked, tilting his head away from her and listening.
“Hear what?”
“The abyss. It has its own language. When I was a kid, my pops would take me out in this old canoe he found on the beach and restored, and we would paddle straight for the horizon. It was a Salish canoe, I think, with no outrigger. One wrong move and you were toast. We’d only go out on calm days, and I remember my dad talking about the silence and how much he loved it. I remember thinking to myself that it was far from silent. Water lapping on wood, distant gulls and the sound of the ocean breathing.”
Minnow felt her heart swell. She wanted to tell him that she heard it too, along with the singing of the stars, but she had held it in for so long that no words would come. Instead, she took a gulp of the ice-cold beer.
Luke went on. “I know it sounds crazy, but when you spend your whole life outside like I did, it’s just natural. Anyway, sorry for rambling, you’re probably starving.”
“No, I like to hear you talk.”
It was the plain and simple truth, but saying it out loud gave it life—itbeing this thing that was growing between them. In the dark it was hard to read his expression, but she thought he might have smiled.
Carefully, he pulled out a sandwich and unwrapped it, handing her half. “I hope you like jalapeños.”
