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He signs the phrase again, adding my name.Be brave, Gina.
I am.I sign the two simple words back to him before dropping my gaze to my only tattoo.
“Getting a tattoo is a brave move.” He places his sunglasses on a small table beside his lounger before gazing at the pool. “It hurts like hell, doesn’t it?”
I laugh. “It’s not that bad.”
Without a glance in my direction, he nods. “My dad had tattoos. He told me to get one.”
“You should,” I say. “Your dad had beautiful ink on his arms.”
I know that because Marlin Lawton owned a bar in Greenwich Village. I worked there for a few months. I was a server, he was the bartender, and whenever I did pull a shift, he made sure to put me in a cab at the end of the night, so I’d get home safe and sound.
Marlin’s goodbye hugs were the best, and when he gave me one, I’d always catch a glimpse of a new addition to the tattoos on his arms. I’ll never forget the night I noticed a purple octopus in the center of a complex design on his right bicep. The entire work of art trailed under the sleeve of his T-shirt, but from what I could see, it was striking and spoke of his love of the ocean.
I raise a finger in the air but stop and smile. “No checkmark for that wish yet, Lawton. You need to get a tattoo if you want to make all of Marlin’s dreams a reality.”
He laughs. “I’ll think about it. He had a lot of other dreams for me, too.”
“Like what?”
He pushes to stand, dropping his phone on the lounge chair. “He always wanted me to learn how to swim. If I dive in now, will you jump in and save me?”
“No,” I answer without the hint of a smile.
“No?” He drops his hands to his hips.
My gaze follows, and I instantly regret it because his abs are inches away from me now, as is the faint line of dark hair that leads down from his belly button and disappears under the waistband of the shorts.
I don’t know how it’s possible, but he’s even more chiseled than when he was twenty-five.
“You won’t let me drown,” he says confidently. “You don’t hate me that much.”
I lift my hands to sign to him.Be brave.
He laughs. “That’s your advice to someone who can’t swim?”
I jerk a thumb to my left. “There’s a lifeguard right over there. Judging from the size of him, he would have no trouble dragging you out of the pool. Look at how ripped he is.”
Stealing a glance at the shirtless lifeguard, Daniel’s eyebrows pinch together. “You think he’s ripped?”
“I have eyes, so yeah, I know he is.” I swing my long legs over the side of my lounger and push to my feet.
“Where are you going?” Daniel questions.
I look at him before I set my sights on the lifeguard. “Andre?”
He flashes me a bright smile. “Yes, Gina?”
His French accent should make my heart beat faster, but since Daniel is less than a foot away from me, looking like every dream I had when I was eighteen, I feel nothing for the gorgeous lifeguard who introduced himself to me as soon as I arrived.
“This is Daniel. He’s about to jump in the pool.” I glance at Daniel to find a smirk on his face. “Be prepared to save him because, apparently, he can’t swim.”
Andre flexes both arms. “That’s what they pay me for.”
I shoulder the straps of the canvas tote I brought with me as I turn to leave. Before I can take a step, Daniel is blocking my path.
Even with three-inch heeled sandals on my feet, he towers over me. “You’re leaving?”
