So, why am I hesitating? Why am I not jumping on this opportunity that any one of the authors inside the hotel would give their eyeteeth for?
I sigh and prop myself up on my elbows. I’d managed to snag one of the hotel’s palm-frond beach cabanas and have been laying out on a white lounge chair beneath it, listening to the sounds of the surf and the ocean breeze. A wave crests in the break line, and two children paddle on boogie boards, shrieking in joy when the wave picks them up and pushes them toward shore. I can’t help but smile.
I kind of wish I’d asked Javier if the hotel had any loaner boards. Those kids make it look like a lot of fun. A lot more fun than sitting here giving myself a headache, trying to make a decision that should be easy but for some reason isn’t.
You know what decisioniseasy to make? The one where I don’t waste this opportunity of seeing the ocean for the first time. I can’t believe I’ve already been here four days and I’ve only dipped my toes in the water. That’s just wrong.
Standing, I pull my cover-up dress over my head and lay it over my cell phone and the hotel key card on the lounge chair. I adjust my bathing suit, then step out from the shade of the cabana and into the sun. My skin immediately begins to bake, and I squint against the brightness of the day.
The sand is hot between my toes, and my feet sink, creating little hills under my arches. As I walk, the sand crunches loudly under me. There’s a chuckle off to my left that drawsmy attention. A man smirks as he looks me up and down, then mutters something incredibly rude about my body.
My face flames, but I remind myself he isn’t worth my time or energy. My suit is cute and modest—a vintage-style one-piece with a halter top and tiny shorts, pink with little strawberries on them. But even if I’d decided to come out here in a G-string like some of the thinner women I’ve seen over the last few days, he still wouldn’t have any right to comment. As far as I’m concerned, every body is a hot girl summer body, whether their tummies are flat or round.
I try to put his inappropriate and downright mean comment behind me as the sand beneath my feet turns from hot and soft to cool and damp. I’m not going to let people like him deprive me of what could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I don’t know when the next chance will come along to take a dip in the Atlantic.
A wave dances up the shore before covering my feet in a surprisingly warm spray of water. The wave washes back out but is followed by another surge right behind it. I walk farther out and try to jump over the white foamy caps of the next wave. It pushes against my legs, nearly toppling me, and I laugh at myself. The two boogie boarders ride in on the next wave, and instead of trying to jump over it, I turn my back and brace my feet. The water rides up my back, causing me to suck in my breath.
Okay, the ocean is a bit colder than I’d originally thought.
I reach back and pat my hair, which is in a topknot, making sure it’s still dry. I wish I could throw caution to the wind and dive right in the water, but I still have to go to that editors’ panel with Julien as well as a few more pitch appointments. I don’t have time to make sure my hair doesn’t look like Medusa incarnate later on. Which means I can’t get it wet now.
The waves aren’t big—nothing you’d see in a surfing competition. I’m able to make it past the break point and still touchthe sandy bottom on my tiptoes, my arms outstretched and floating on the surface of the water. Out here, I bob with the ebb and flow of the tide like a buoy. It’s relaxing, this rhythmic up-and-down motion. I’m used to swimming in lakes, which are pretty still, unless there’s a wake from a boat.
Something brushes against my leg. I let out a strangled squeak and reflexively bring my legs up to my body in a fetal position. Which causes me to start sinking. With the water at my chin, I force myself to lower my legs again, but now I’m peering down into the dark water, trying in vain to see below the surface and what’s swimming around down there.
My mind, of course, immediately conjures up images of pointy teeth. Pointy shark teeth sinking into flesh. My heart is trying to beat out of my chest while I will myself not to flail around. Anyone who’s ever watched even a single Discovery Channel shark episode knows panicking and stirring up the water is the worst thing you can do.
It’s just a fish, I tell myself.Nemo or Marlin or Dory just swimming,swimming, swimming. Nothing to worry about.
I’m not sticking around to find out if the thing that brushed me is Flounder or Bruce or Ariel herself. Disney can keep all of their marine life, as far as I’m concerned.
As fast but with as little splashing as I can, I head toward the shore. The water resistance works against me, making me put out a lot of effort for little reward. Slowly, the water gets shallower and dry land gets closer. By the time I’m up to my knees, I’m sprinting for the cabana. The ocean is beautiful, but I think I’m going to stick to the rivers and lakes that I’m used to.
As I wrap my towel around me, I scan the horizon, looking for a telltale dorsal fin. I don’t see anything, but I’m not taking any chances by returning to the water.
With a sigh, I settle back down onto the lounge chair. The sun has shifted position, the chaise no longer in the shade. Icould move it over a few feet but decide to let the warm rays help dry me off quicker.
My phone dings with an incoming text.
Evangeline
How’s the conference going? Find Squire’s savior yet?
And just like that, the burden weighing down my mind comes rolling back in full force. I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of the beach chair. It would be a neat little package, wouldn’t it? Julien needs books to publish. I have a backlist written ... though whether they’re ready to be bound with paper and ink is debatable.
Is that what’s making me pause? Self-doubt?
I open my eyes and peer down at my phone. Maybe I need to talk it out with a friend. I tap the call button by Evangeline’s name.
She picks up after the first ring. “Hey! I wasn’t expecting you to call. I thought you’d be busy with meetings.”
“We have a small break right now before we have to get back to it. I’m sitting on the beach as we speak.”
“Must be nice. I haven’t been to the beach in years. Drink a fruity frozen drink with a little umbrella for me.”
I chuckle. A virgin piña colada does sound good.
“So, how’s it going? Any prospects for that next bestseller?”
