“Eyes on me.”
So bossy.
She didn’t want to, but she did.
He was all seriousness. “You’re under the water, and you panic. After the panic, you accept the end, and there’s only a brief fear before you breathe in the water. Peace fills your lungs, and you float to wherever you go when it’s over. They say drowning is…tranquil.”
“Tranquil?” she repeated. He was certifiable. No one thought drowning was anything but awful. “Who says? Because this isn’t something you come back from and say ‘Hey, guess what? Not so bad. This is the way to go. Totally pick drowning.’”
“Freaking adorable. You get that, right?”
“Stop.”
“No.”
Damn.
“Seriously,” he continued. “One of the networks I worked at did a special about people who got brought back after a near-drowning, and they all said it wasn’t so bad. Drowning wouldn’t be fantastic, but it wouldn’t be like dying in a fire. Fire is not the way to go. Or a guillotine. Avoid both of those.”
“I guess I’m not sleeping tonight.” She spoke under her breath.
He raised an eyebrow, and a fissure of yearning skittered through her as he gave her another body scan. “Don’t mind staying up.”
“Can we play something else for a while?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned wider than the devil himself, and she knew exactly what game he wanted to play.
She stood. “I think I’ll go to sleep.”
“Not thinkin’ so. Drowning, fire, and guillotine will have you back here in five. Don’t mind waiting, though, if you want to try the sleep thing.”
Of course he was right. She flopped on the chair. “I need another beer. Mine’s warm.”
“You sure? You’ve got more label to shred on that one.” He pointed to the stack in front of her.
“Next question.” She gave a one-handed flutter of a wave.
He popped the top off another beer and slid it across the table. “Tomorrow night, there’s a barn dance near the lodge. You coming with me?”
“A barn dance? Which century are we in?”
“C’mon, Princess. It’ll be fun. We’ll take some video and call it research. You won’t let me teach you to swim. At least let me teach you to two-step.”
He was William, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he’d asked her on a sort-of date. Her inner-teenager was breakdancing at the idea. “Fine. I’ll go. But I don’t know how to dance.”
His finger traced the ring on her hand. “Luce, the thing you’re not getting is I’m an exceptional teacher. And I know how to do all kinds of fun things.”
She bet he did, especially since he had spent a summer practicing with half the female population of Florida.
…
Two more beers and several more rounds ofConfessionserased all of the gruesome ways to die from her memory. He had rolled a sleeping bag on the floor, and she burrowed under the covers on the bed. The dark cabin was eerily quiet without any city noise.
“Will?” she called.
“Yeah, Luce?” His voice was relaxed, throaty.
“I had fun tonight,” she said in his direction.
