Page 36 of Against The Tide

The two of them carry on joking around while I watch, completely rapt by their friendship. In this moment I feel so full and so happy that it takes me by surprise given the conversation Jo and I had this morning.

There have been a couple of times that I’ve almost asked him about his divorce. I’m not even sure why I’m so caught up in it, but my curiosity and the need to know him better are niggling at me.

Laying his board on the sand, he stands on it and shows Iris the right stance. “You’ve got to bend your knees like this so that you can balance.”

My eyes meander down his body in awe of the shape he’s in, but then I should’ve expected it given how active and outdoorsy he is. It’s obvious he’s not a young guy, but damn, his lean muscles have muscles of their own. Even if I didn’t know firsthand from the few times he’s held me, I’d know from looking at him that every inch of his person is hard and strong.

“You think you’re ready to give it a shot?”

“Yes! Yep, yep, yep…” Iris is running toward the water before Rhett can get his board in hand.

“Are you sure you got this, Doc?” Jo calls from beside me, laughing her ass off when Iris waves at him to hurry up.

In reply, he sticks his tongue out at her and jogs to meet Iris by the water. The waves are pretty tame, and when he has the board down, he sits her on it before taking her deeper. He’s got the patience of a saint as he helps Iris up onto her feet while keeping the board stable. Of course, she doesn’t last two seconds, but they keep going and going until the sun is right over us.

“Does she ever get tired?” he asks, standing in front of me, hugging his board with one arm. Water sparkles over inch after inch of lightly tanned skin.

Although Rhett is fair, his skin has a golden kiss to it from all the hours he spends in the sun. He might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and it’s intimidating as hell when he stabs the board into the sand and sits beside me on the towel, watching as Jo and Iris collect shells ahead of us. I feel so self-conscious in my faded baby pink swimsuit. The bruises on my thigh are yellowed, and they look more like a patchy tan than actual evidence of what I ran from.

“For someone whose job is all about the sea, you haven’t even dipped your toes yet. If you tell me you’re scared of sharks…” His words fade into a teasing chuckle.

“Not quite. In fact, I’m pretty okay with sharks. I had to get close and personal with some blacktips for an exhibition, and they were skittish creatures. Big and fast, and I wouldn’t mess with them, but…”

“Huh.” He side-eyes me with an impressed grin. “That’s kind of badass.”

“Thanks.”

“Now I’m intrigued. What other cool exhibitions have you worked on?”

“I think that working on the main tank is probably as cool as it gets, so the sharks are definitely it.”

“Hmm…” He turns to look at me, narrowing his gaze. “How about your favorite?”

“The reef and invertebrate exhibitions. I’m a sucker for all the bright colors, and there’s so much more life to it all than people think. It’s a real ecosystem where every creature plays its part…it’s not all rocks and shells.”

“It makes you happy.” He smiles, and I notice that my cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling too. “It looks real good on you, sunshine. Beautiful.”

My heart stutters at his unexpected statement. I can barely breathe as his gaze meanders over my face, flitting between my eyes and my lips. I’m overwhelmed by the heat that courses through me. I can’t remember the last time a man called me beautiful, let alone said it to my face. It baffles me even more as to how he’s divorced. He seems so good, almost too good.

You know how it goes, kiddo, my father’s voice whispers around my thoughts. If it seems too good, then…

“Can I ask you something?” I try to ignore the hard twist of my stomach.

“Anything,” he replies instantly from where he’s now leaning back on the towel.

“How long have you been divorced?”

The relaxed look on his face straightens, and his body tenses, and I instantly want to take back my question. I hate that I’ve made him uncomfortable.

“Sorry, Jo mentioned it and…” I cut myself off because I can’t bring myself to actually tell him that I don’t understand how someone like him could be unattached. Or even divorced.

If I’d been lucky enough to marry someone like Rhett Reynolds, I would’ve held on damn tight and counted all my lucky stars that he was mine. Instead, I got Carl. Asshole, liar and cheater. If he hadn’t given me Iris, I would say he ruined my life.

“A while,” he says, sitting up. “A long time actually.”

“Oh, was it awful?”

“What has Jo told you?” Crossing his ankles, Rhett turns toward me. Although his usual lightness is gone, the look he holds me with promises to give me anything I ask for.