Of course, my eyes do what eyes do. The bikini top is blue and looks like it's covered in glitter. I'd be embarrassed to be openly staring if I had any decency, but I don't. Plus, she’s dressed like a mermaid.
I lean forward to get a better look at her. Whoisthis woman? I've lived in Cypress Grove my entire life; it's not that big of a town. I would have remembered if I'd met a woman this pretty in a bar or at a party. There are a lot of tourists, though.
Had I met her on land, I'd have asked her out within thirty seconds. Possibly twenty.
I'm not known as the Playboy of Paradise Springs for nothing — though, between you and me, the title's gotten a little oversized for what my actual situation looks like these days. My lips curve upward into a grin.
"A real, live mermaid. Hey, beautiful! Where did you come from? I've been swimming in these waters my entire life and never caught a mermaid."
She blinks and smiles. Oh, baby. This is going to be good.
I lean further over the railing, enjoying the view I'm getting of her. Underwater, her blue outfit shimmers. What possessed a grown woman to put on a tail and swim in the Cypress Grove springs on a random Tuesday morning?
I'm about to ask her this — and warn her that the springs sometimes have alligators, hint, hint, so she'd better get that beautiful tail of hers up here onto the platform with me — when she opens her mouth.
"Who says you've caught me?" she asks, her voice throaty.
The game is on.
"I'd love to catch you," I say.
She beckons with her index finger, painted scarlet. "Come and try," she says, still smiling. Her eyes flit downward.
She's checking me out, just like I'm doing with her. Now, I'm not as jacked as my twin brother Damien. He's a beast, and spends God knows how many hours in the gym every day. He's also a wildland firefighter out west — currently three months into the season, due back any day. But I'm no slouch. I'm a champion bass fisherman, and I spend a lot of time on the water wrestling with fish, which means I'm tanned and pretty ripped.
According to what women have told me in the past, me and my hard abs are "a snack." That's a direct quote.
She's clearly checking me out, which is nice for the ego. Anyway, Tate and Isabella are six feet from me, so it's not like I'm making any real moves on Miss Mermaid right here and now. I've got to get her name and her number, though.
She's still grinning. Her eyes shimmer, and that's when I notice her skin also has a sheen to it. Like she's wearing sparkly body lotion that doesn't come off in the water or something.
"I love a challenge," I retort, loving the flirtation.
She floats a foot closer to the platform.
I straighten to my full height and square my shoulders, apparently intending to make some kind of impression on Miss Mermaid. I take one step forward as if I'm going to dive.
And slip on a wet patch, straight off the edge of the platform.
I tumble over the side and splash into the spring, six feet deep, right in front of her. For a split second, I'm worried that I'm going to fall on top of her and knock her out cold. But she's obviously nimble in the water, and I sense her body moving aside.
I allow my body to submerge in the cool spring, so I can have a beat of recovery from my stupidity.
Normally, I'm pretty suave around women — there's that Playboy of Paradise Springs thing again — but falling off a platform wasn't graceful at all. Especially for me, a Florida-bornguy who's been around the water my whole life and who can (usually) execute a pretty decent dive.
But if I've learned anything about women over the years, it's that making them laugh goes a long way, more than any muscular chest or rock-hard abdominal muscles.
So, I'll play this off as a joke. Like I'd intended to be a buffoon.
I surface, sputtering, my hair plastered to my face. I push it back and look up. The mermaid is still laughing — a real laugh, full and unguarded, bouncing off the cypress trees. After a beat, I'm laughing too. Up on the platform, Tate and Isabella are doubled over.
I stand, rising to my full height. She's bobbing in the water and looks at me with those sky-blue eyes. Her lips part and time slows. We're now only about eight inches apart, and my laughter fades. Because the breath has been sucked from my lungs.
There's that summer lightning again. Only this time, it's like one of those intense storms that send bolts of pure fire down from the sky. The kind of lightning strikes that incinerate trees and houses and people on golf courses. The attraction between us has rendered me senseless. I open my mouth, but I'm not entirely sure what to say.
You mermaid my day.
I think you're mer-mazing.
