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“You want to check my footage before I put everything away?” Lucy asked as he emerged from the bathroom.

“I need to?” He dumped his clothes on a chair.

“Nope.”

“Then no, I trust you.”

She frowned slightly. Like he was a puzzle she tried to solve, but a piece was missing.

The curtains on the window near the small sofa revealed a picture window framing the lake.

“You swim?” he asked.

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“Not at all,” she replied.

“Why?” he asked.

“Sharks.”

William banked the smile that tugged at his mouth. He gestured to the window. “Not too many sharks in a freshwater lake.”

“I don’t swim.” She shook her head, her hair tumbling in a wave over her shoulders. “Not my thing.”

“Because of sharks?” His fingertips prickled with the desire to run through her hair. Touch her and make a connection.

“Originally, yeah.”

“More, Luce,” he said.

Her eyes warmed, and her mouth went slack. He had noted she did that whenever he called her Luce.

That was better than the frown from before.

“I lived by the ocean growing up. Lots of sharks. They scared me, so I never learned to swim.” She shrugged.

Since that first day at the truck stop, this was possibly the most she had ever shared with him.

“You lived by the ocean?” He dropped to the bed and propped himself up on an elbow.

“Uh…yup.” She started unpacking the remnants of her bag into one of the dresser drawers, and her shirt lifted just enough to expose the small of her back as she bent over.

His gaze lingered. “Your parents didn’t teach you to swim even with a giant body of water right outside the door?” Living next to the ocean and not learning to swim was ludicrous—like being from Colorado and never going skiing. Sacrilege.

“Nope.” She rubbed her hands together, clearly pleased with her unpacking skills.

“I’ll teach you to swim.” He leaned toward her. “At the lake. It’ll be fun.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Sharks.”

William grinned. She was adorable.

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