Page 125 of The Stranger

“Papa, persuade Primrose to swim,” Sylvie says, climbing that man like a monkey on a pole. “It’s too hot to do anything else today!”

“I’m fine,” I say as I reach for my water bottle.

“I think she’s afraid of getting wet,” Luc replies in a tone that is not safe for work. But Sylvie’s attention has already moved on as she launches herself back into the water, chasing a ball thrown by her brother.

“I’m not afraid,” I hiss. “I just prefer not to.”

His gaze is fiery, yet somehow full of amusement. A private kind of amusement.

Right, that’s it. “As you well know, I can swim perfectly well on my own.”

“I’d pay to see that.”

“Yeah, well, you’d have to.” I didn’t mean to say that. “But maybe I’m already swimming with someone else,” I hurry on. “Have you thought about that?”

One of his eyebrows quirks like a question mark. “Thank you for that invitation.”

“What?”

“I can’t say that would be something I’d necessarily like. Unless, of course, you’d like it.”

“I…” Me with someone else. And Luc watching. My brain breaks a little as Luc launches himself backward with a grin. With strong strokes, he moves across the pool, still watching me.

“Why are you red?” Sylvie pops up at the nearside of the pool, her slender arms over the side.

“Sunburn.”

“But you are in the shade.”

“It’s hot out.”

“Then you should swim.”

Not in my bikini. With him. “Maybe later.”

She screws up her face, and I sigh. It’s been a long few days and my nerves are a little fraught.

At the far side of the pool, Luc plants both hands on the stone edge. With one smooth push, and he lifts himself effortlessly from the water, clearing the edge, arms and back muscles working and flexing galore. Like an Olympic swimmer, or a made-for-TV moment, he twists and perches on the side.

I mentally hold up a sign. 9.9

Almost a perfect score.

I watch as he shakes his head, then slides a hand through his hair, slicking it back in a motion slow enough to make me suspicious. He’s putting on a show. And what a show it is as water beads across his shoulders, glinting in the sun and slipping lazily over skin.

Who does he think he is—Merman? I grab Sylvie’s pink towel and jerkily refold it. He’s more like a selkie. Seal black hair and skin as smooth as a seal. A creature of temptation, hauled from mythology, destined to always be handsome as a means to steal women’s hearts. Wow, I don’t know where all that came from. I know nothing about selkie folklore.

“You look like you are angry.” Sylvie’s voice pulls me out of my head.

“Nope, not angry.”

“Maybe you should get in the pool and cool off.”

“Good try, sneaky.”

“Fine.” With a roll of her eyes, she launches herself backwards, disappearing under the water’s surface.

After I fold Sylvie’s towel, I realize Felix didn’t bring a towel with him. So I stand, then sit down again when I remember the cabana stores the towels in a towel warmer. Most people make do with the sun, but whatever.