Page 76 of Here We Go Again

“Because I’m smart and I didn’t want to burn.” She turns and looks at me over her shoulder. “Unlike someone I know.”

“I never burned that bad.”

“Because I forced you to wear sunscreen. You’ll thank me when you’re fifty.” She sits up a little taller so I can get the small of her back, careful not to get too close to her sides where I know she’s ticklish. “Am I good?” she asks.

“You’re good.”

She spins around. “Okay. Your turn.”

I fight to keep my breathing normal when her hands land on my shoulders, but I can’t stop the rash of goosebumps that break out across my skin.

I’m still wondering if Becca has clocked my reaction to her touch when she says, “There are a lot more muscles back here than there used to be.”

I chuckle. “Can I get you to say that to my brother next time you see him?”

“Absolutely not,” she says. “I don’t think your ego needs the boost.” Her hand lingers at the top of my waistband, just above my left hip, then she moves back up, her hands going over my shoulders to the top of my pectoral muscles. “I have too much,” she says, so I turn to face her, letting her cover my chest and abdomen.

I grit my teeth, willing my brain to stay focused on anything but how good it feels to have her hands on my skin.

“More muscles here too,” she says, her voice soft, hands lingering on my abs.

“Okay, all done,” I say, grabbing her wrists and tugging them away from my body. “Time to get in the water.”

Becca smirks, but she doesn’t argue. She just pulls on her sunglasses and follows me out to the beach. There’s a public access point a few hundred yards to our right, and the sand is pretty crowded, but the area immediately around us is mostly quiet. It’s just us and the seagulls and an old guy with a metal detector who lifts a hand and waves as he passes by.

I take a few minutes to set up the giant umbrella I’m sure we’ll want when we get out of the water, then we do our best to sort out our gear, trying on masks to find what fits best. It takes a few minutes, but eventually, we’re out in the water, watching a tiny school of fish swimming around a bed of sea grass. It’s cool, but if we go a little farther out, I know from experience we might find some dolphins, or at least a stingray or two.

Without lifting my face out of the water, I wave to get Becca’s attention, then motion for her to come with me.

She swims closer and slips her hand into mine, then we turn and head into deeper waters. After a few moments of steady swimming, Becca tugs on my hand and points toward a stingray slowly swimming across the sandy sea floor.

Her face is distorted by her mask, but I can still tell she’s smiling, and her eyes are bright and happy.

We swim around for a few more minutes and spot a variety of fish and a Florida spider crab as big as a dinner plate.

When she pops through the surface of the water and removes her mask, I follow her up and do the same.

“Did you see the ray with all the spots?” she asks. “It was beautiful!” We’re in water just shallow enough that my feet can touch, but Becca is treading water.

“The spotted eagle ray,” I say. “Cool, right?”

“Okay, Mr. Biology,” she says.

“I only know what lives around here. Carter and I used to snorkel all afternoon, then run back to the house and google everything we saw. I remember a lot, but if we were in any other part of the ocean, I’d be useless.” Over her shoulder, I spot the notable fin of a dolphin maybe a dozen yards out. “Hey, come here,” I say as I reach for her.

She takes my hand, and I tug her close, turning her so her back is pressed against my front. I wrap a loose arm around her waist. “I’m standing, so let me keep you afloat,” I say, then I point with my free hand. “Look. Right over there.”

As soon as she spots it, she sucks in a gasp. “A dolphin?”

“Yep. If we’re really still, it might swim closer.”

She shifts her hands to my forearm, holding on as she relaxes against me. Together, we wait and watch as one dolphin turns into three. Eventually, they swim a little closer, within twenty feet or so, though they never really approach. Even that feels amazing—and I’m suddenly intensely happy we’re experiencing this together.

“I can’t believe it,” Becca says. “They’re right there.”

I’m still caught up in the fact that she’s right here, but yeah. The dolphins are cool too.

Once they swim away, we slowly make our way back to shore. Becca drops onto the sand under our umbrella. She tugs her hair out of the hair tie that’s been holding it on top of her head and shakes it out, sending water droplets flying.