Page 63 of Double Puck

He heads down the pale stone steps into water so clear I can see every tile beneath his feet. Steam drifts across the turquoise surface while the Pacific glitters beyond the infinity edge, turning the entire place into some obscenely expensive private resort even my father would approve of.

Naturally, all I see is death.

I dip one toe in.

Beck looks back. “You know it's heated, right? I'm not putting you through Navy SEAL training.”

“It's not the temperature I'm worried about.”

He comes back up two steps and holds out his hand. “It's okay. Put your hand in mine.”

There's no joke this time.

I slide my fingers through his.

Beck guides me down slowly until the heated water wraps around my legs and climbs toward my waist. His other hand settles lightly against my hip to steady me, and suddenly drowning isn't remotely the thing making my heart pound.

Because Beck Morrison is very, very good at making me feel safe while simultaneously making me want to do spectacularly unsafe things.

“Alright. Well here we are. Darcy Madden is in a swimsuit. In my pool,” he says, sloshing beside me. “This morning just got way better.”

"Please, stop. I'm about to freak out."

“All right,” he murmurs, holding me closer. “How about we float first. I’ve got you. Just push off the floor and lean into my hands.”

“I don’t float.”

“You will.” His grip steadies me, his thumbs brushing against my sides below the waterline. “Trust me, Darce.”

“You’re shirtless, Morrison. Trust me, that’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

Beck chuckles, low in his throat and I hope he can't se my nipples hardening beneath this now-wet fabric. “Darcy, look at me.”

I do, meeting his eyes.

“I’m not letting you sink,” he promises softly.

And somehow, it's enough.

The next ten minutes are tentative, frustrating, and filled with Beck’s unrelenting praise. He encourages me to kick, scolds me for clutching the pool wall, and makes an outrageous bet about whether I can swim ten feet without drowning.

Somehow, by sheer force of Beck’s persistence, and his distracting hands guiding my body, I finally manage to half-paddle, half-sink my way toward him.

The moment my hands grip his shoulders for balance, I’m breathless with relief and an unexpected burst of pride.

“See?” Beck beams as water drips down his body. “You didn’t sink!”

“Did I just…?” I blink at him in disbelief. “Swim?”

“You swam,” he repeats firmly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “You’re officially a swimmer now. Bring on the beach parties, pools, and cruise ships, sweetheart. You’re ready.”

I laugh as the tension from earlier melts, leaving just Beck and me, chest-deep in the water, sharing the morning sunrise and paddling through the water. In the shallow end, of course.

“I can't believe I just did that. Who knew, Beck Morrison is a good teacher,” I joke lightly. "Next you'll be taking me on a proper date."

Beck stiffens as we drift towards the infinity edge of the pool that overlooks the entire town of Beachside below.

“Wait,” he says suddenly. "You’ve never been on a first date?"