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CHAPTER7
It was nearly ten o’clock in the morning when Grace reported to Amos’s houseboat for tutoring. The sun, already warm, shone into her eyes as she strode down the hill from the big house, clutching a bag full of teaching material. She caught sight of Amos and faltered to a halt.
He stood shirtless at the end of the pier, holding Simon’s hand. The vision of his broad back slowed her step, even as she stared in awe. Swimming trunks hugged his lean waist—not an ounce of fat in sight—while leaving most of his muscular thighs, dusted in dark hair, bare for her eyes to feast on. The man put statues of Greek gods to shame.
I’m not here to see Amos McLeod.She had tossed in her bed the night before, unable to sleep as she’d pondered Amos’s swift hug and his sixty-dollars-an-hour offer. Afraid to fall asleep and dream of the soldier stalking her, she had stayed awake for hours—hence her late arrival.
As she watched, Amos lowered himself to sit at the end of the pier with his feet dangling. The muscles in his back and shoulders rippled. He quickly took Simon’s hand again.
Grace hefted her bag more securely. Putting one foot stealthily before the other, she drew closer, careful not to disturb what was bound to be a swimming lesson. The boy gave a solemn nod to show he understood. Without warning, Amos let go of Simon’s hand and launched himself off the end of the dock into the water, leaving Simon standing all alone on the pier, without a life vest on.
Grace lowered her bags and hurried toward Simon, her sandals slapping loudly on the planks. The past rushed up into the present, bringing back the horror of falling off the dock into her grandma’s creek at the age of four, water filling her nose and ears as she’d tried clawing to the surface.
Alarmed, she cried a warning to Simon, who was sidling up to the edge as if preparing to jump. “Wait! You need a life vest.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her and started to smile, but a firm command had him looking back at the water. In the next instant, he jumped in, splashing loudly.
Grace ran the rest of the way, fearing the worst. She found Amos treading water, his eyes on the rippling surface in front of him, but Simon was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is he? Simon!” Grace scanned the tea-colored water frantically.
Amos shot her an annoyed glance and submerged himself. For several seconds, long enough for Grace to snatch her phone from her pocket and start dialing 911, they were both gone.
“Please come up. Please come up.”
She was just about to put the call through when Amos broke the surface, bearing a sputtering Simon with him. The little boy kept a sturdy arm around his father’s neck as he gasped and coughed and wiped his eyes.
“What,” Grace drew a dizzying breath, “inblue blazesare you doing?” She had riper words in mind but couldn’t say them in front of the boy.
Amos shot her a frown. “Teaching him to swim, obviously.”
“You almost let him drown!”
“Never. I’m a certified scuba instructor. You let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours.”
“Since when do you teach someone to swim by letting him drown?”
“It’s called drown-proofing. I know what I’m doing.”
“He’s not a Navy SEAL. He’s a child!”
Simon, who witnessed their heated debate with increasing concern, burst into tears.
“You see?” Grace gestured at the poor boy. “You’ve traumatized him.”
Amos glowered at her as he stayed afloat with apparent ease. “The only thing traumatizing him is this discussion!”
The words sobered her. She thought back, realizing Simon hadn’t burst into tears until she’d protested. Her righteousness retreated, replaced by humiliation for having exposed her private fears.
“You have a point.” She took a belated step from the dock’s edge. “Simon, honey, we’re not fighting. Your father is right.” It took a lot to say those words. “He’s an expert swimmer, and he won’t let anything happen to you.” The little waves tossing around the pier were beginning to wreak havoc on her inner ear. She averted her gaze. “Can I wait inside?”
Amos’s eyes narrowed. “Go on in.”
After retrieving her bag, she then hurried across the gangplank to let herself into Amos’s houseboat.
Leaving her supplies on the window seat, she wandered into the kitchen first, glad for a chance to poke around. The surfaces were all wiped down, dishes washed, and put away. Amos’s preference for cleanliness pleased her as she was the same way. She peeked into the refrigerator, impressed to find it stocked with fresh fruits and vegetables. Did Amos know how to cook? A small collection of cookbooks suggested he did.
Curious to see the rest ofCamelot, she peeked through a window in the living area, ascertaining Amos was still busy before crossing toward the short, steep staircase that led to his cabin. She had to pass through a little hallway first, where she discovered a good-sized bathroom on one side, with gray and white tiles and a glassed-in shower. The other side was a hodgepodge of cabinets and drawers. Aware that she was being nosy, she peeked into several of them, finding a sea-shell collection, a drawerful of medals and plaques, and a closet full of uniforms draped in plastic, even a pull-down ironing board.
