My family’s well known in the Hamptons—well known everywhere. And theywouldsend a search party after me. Probably several.
But I’m not incapable. Oridiotic. I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sure I could.
Deciding I’ve humored Shaggy’s genuine concern and the others’ mocking for long enough, I spin and stride toward the opening. No one follows or calls after me, which is a relief.
The rock’s surface is fairly flat, the few grooved indentations easy to step around. It extends about twenty feet before I reach the edge.
I stand there, staring down at the churning water. Fifteen feet looks like fifty from here.
But I never intended to look, then turn back, and it’s absolutely not an option now. The one upside to running into that crowd is, I know this is the right spot and that someone—two someones—jumped successfully today.
I glance left, at the beach that I’ll need to swim toward, mentally plotting my route to safety.
“You’re stubborn.”
The gruff statement startles me—something youdon’twant to happen while standing near the edge of a cliff. An unattractive squeaksneaks out as I hop closer to solid ground and away from the approaching fall.
“You good?” Still husky, but there’s a softer note to his tone as he stops beside me.
“Yes. To both.”
I’m not sure because he’s looking at the horizon ahead, but I think Cap rolls his eyes at my answer.
“You going again?” I ask.
“No. I’m supervising.”
It takes a second for his meaning to sink in. Once it does …
“Likefuckyou are,” I growl.
He looks mildly amused by my annoyance. “Kitten’s got claws.”
I cross my arms and glower. “Firstprincess, nowkitten? Are you president of the Stupid Nickname Club,Cap?”
He rubs a palm along his jaw. I have a sneaking suspicion it might be to cover a smile, and I’m aggravated by how badly I wish I could see it.
“You can stop saying it like that,” he tells me.
“Like what?” I sass.
“Like it’s the dumbest word you’ve ever heard. And it has nothing to do with bottles. It’s short for Captain. I like boats.”
“You like boats,” I repeat.
“Uh-huh.”
He’s glancing down at the water, scrutinizing the choppy surface closely.Supervising, I guess, although I have no clue what he thinks he’ll be able to do once I jump. Control the current with his mind?
“What’s your real name?” I ask.
“Sawyer. How well can you swim?”
“Reallywell.”
He looks at me then, lifting an eyebrow with obvious skepticism.
I hold his gaze. “I’m not modest, but I’m not a liar either. I also hate failing at things. I’m only doing this because I want to—and I’m certain I can. So, you cango.”
