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Because she knew she’d probably cry.
“Here,” Oliver reached out. “Take my hand, we’ll do this together.”
* * *
It was only then,as they made their way across the beach, that Oliver realised how much her leg really troubled her. Sure, he was aware she limped sometimes, and he’d seen the way her left knee turned inwards when she walked, but now, as they walked across the uneven icing sugar of the sand, her lips were pulled tight, an expression of intense concentration on her face.
At intervals her hand tightened in his, and the fact was, he liked it—way more than he should.
They finally got close to the water and Felicity shed her sarong, and in the sunlight he saw the scythe-like scar laid bare, the indent where her thigh muscle had had been cut to get to the bone, and his heart lurched.
If it had scarred her in other ways, it was hard to tell. He’d never met a woman so ready to laugh at the vagaries of life, the little disasters that drove him nuts. She didn’t take herself one iota seriously.
She must have been to hell and back, and yet you wouldn’t know….
She flexed her biceps as they reached the water’s edge. “This squirrel is now ready to take to the water.” She made a silly face, cheeks puffed out, eyes crossed, then turned towards the ocean.
“Just be careful, the waves are stronger than they look,” he warned.
“They’re fine,” she called over her shoulder.
“Really Felicity, be careful. They look small but there’s a rip here.” Suddenly he remembered the dream, her pink hat flying off into the blue sky. His incapacity to save her. He tried to sound casual as he jogged to her side. “We’re right on the edge of a very big ocean with nothing between us and Antarctica.”
“Except squirrel-eating sharks?”
‘Hopefully not. But we could easily see dolphins.”
“If we spot a fin, I’m relying on you to tell me whether it’s a dolphin or a shark.” She lost her balance slightly and his hand went to her elbow, supporting her.
He nearly added, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” but swallowed the words and glanced at the oncoming waves instead. Which also helped him avoid getting side-tracked by her breasts, which seemed determined to break out of the confines of her bikini top.
She let go of him with a grin and pitched into the water, swimming with her head held high.
She did look like a squirrel, a laughing little red squirrel.
He resolutely quashed the thought that she could nibble on his nuts anytime. He was not—going—there.
Nevertheless, Oliver was grinning like an idiot as he dived into the water.
A moment later a wave crashed over her head. For a second, she disappeared from view and adrenaline spiked through him. Then she bobbed up a metre further away, spluttering and pushing wet hair off her face. “Urk, I think I’ve acquired a fanny full of sand.” She blinked madly, her lashes sticking together and her eyes as blue as the ocean itself. “What happened?”
“You got dumped. Are you okay… your leg?”
“It’s fine, there’s no gravity in water. I thought I’d be able to do a couple of nice little laps of breaststroke, but those waves, you’re right, they do pack a punch.”
“This coast has carried off a few unsuspecting tourists.”
He swam to her side and she clung to his arm, her body leaning into him as he helped her out of the water. “Watch out,” he warned, shielding her as another set of waves came through and she held on tighter, her body butted up to his.
“I feel like one of those fish that suck the algae off whales.” She laughed as they finally reached the beach. Mirth-filled eyes stared mischievously up at him, droplets of water mingled with the freckles on her skin. He had to conclude her imagination operated on a different plane. And he loved it, because all he wanted to do was laugh. In fact, he couldn’t remember when he’d laughed this much. Without thinking, he stroked a droplet of water off her nose and said, “You’re a weird woman, Felicity Green. A very weird woman.”
“I know.” She smirked, dimples flashing. When they reached their towels, he picked hers up, handed it to her, and narrowly resisted the urge to wrap it round her and reel her in against his body.
After they’d both dried off, she rummaged in her bag and presented him with her phone. “Would you mind taking a shot of me to send to Evie?”
“Sure.” As she passed it over, their fingers touched, cold from the water. The contact still managed to send heat into his groin.
He moved swiftly away and held up the phone. “Smile.”
