The Summer Girls (26 page)

“When haven’t I been nice?”

He shrugged. “The other day, when you blew me off. You walked off the beach without even saying hello.”

“Me, not nice? Excuse me? I came to the beach to meet you. Like we’d arranged.”

He raised one brow skeptically. “You were late. Very late. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I got held up at work.”

“So why did you walk off? I know you saw me wave.”

Carson picked at the rim of her cup, suddenly tongue-tied. “I . . . well, I saw you with someone else and I didn’t want to intrude.” She sipped her chai, not wishing to say more.

“Someone else?” His face shifted to reveal his confusion. Then understanding dawned, and that crooked smile slowly eased across his face and his eyes sparked with amusement. “Ah, yes. Her.”

Carson felt the burn of a blush beginning. She took another sip of her tea.

“She’s just someone who hangs out at the beach all the time. She’s a friend.”

A friend? They looked more than friendly . . . Carson didn’t know if she should believe him. “Whatever,” Carson said. “She had her arms all over you. I just assumed.”

He didn’t reply, which only made her cheeks flame brighter.

“Looks like we both assumed wrong.”

Carson met his gaze and tried not to smile. “Looks like.”

He reached out for her hand and turned his palm over to wrap his fingers around hers. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

They slowly released hands but she could still feel the tingling in her palm. She was glad that the tension between them had dissipated, to be replaced by this new warmth that was running in her veins. She liked him, more than she’d thought she would. There was something open and honest about him that made her feel comfortable, even safe.

“Tell you what,” Blake said, stretching his long legs out before him and crossing his ankles. “Let’s you and me try this over again. How about I call you the next time the wind is good? Say, after work?”

Carson followed his example and leaned back, crossing her legs. “Sounds like a plan.”

He pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?”

So, now they were exchanging numbers, she realized. A big step. She pulled out her phone as she recited her cell phone number. “Yours?” He told her his.

“We know where we live,” he said with a slight chuckle.

Carson smiled as she punched his number into her phone. “By the way, Harper said to thank you.”

“No thanks needed. I think we both know I did it for you.”

Carson’s hand froze and all humor had fled, to be replaced by a sincerity that unnerved her. This was suddenly moving all too fast.

On the street a car backfired, causing her to startle. It broke the moment, for which she was grateful. Carson tucked her phone back into her bag. “I was just thinking, you know a lot about me, but I know virtually nothing about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, what do you do for a living? How’s that for starters?”

“Classic,” he replied. “I’m with NOAA.”

“The National Ocean . . .” She trailed off, not knowing the correct name.

“Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration,” he finished for her.

She cocked her head as she looked at his face, considering. “What area? Oceans, water, reefs? Wait, are you a weatherman?”

“Would it surprise you if I was?”

She chuckled. “A little.”

“Dolphins,” he said.

Carson’s smile disappeared and she was suddenly alert. “What about dolphins?”

He looked slightly perplexed at her reaction. “I work with cetaceans.
Tursiops truncatus,
to be specific. Atlantic bottlenose. Our locals.”

Carson sat forward and turned to face him, her heart
beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “What do you do?” she asked.

He took a long breath and crossed his arms. “Well, actually I do a little bit of everything. My primary work is research on the effects of environmental contaminants, emerging diseases, and stressors on the health of marine mammals. That’s a mouthful to say I study dolphins—their health and their habitat. There’s a lot to do and not enough time. Or money.”

“So you’re a biologist?”

“That’s right. I have my Ph.D. in molecular marine biology.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t quite digest that her friendly kiteboarding buddy was also a doctor—of dolphins, no less. Mr. Predictable should have been
Dr.
Predictable.

“Are you interested in dolphins?” he asked her.

Carson didn’t know where to begin. “Yes,” she blurted. “Very much. Now, anyway.”

“Why now?”

She waved her hand. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time, if you do.”

Carson told him about the shark. Even on this fourth telling of the story she felt the same sickening sensations she had when she stared into the shark’s deathly eye and felt the girth of the sandpaper-rough body when it bumped her. She’d never forget that sense of terror. Blake went very still and his brows furrowed as he hung on every word.

“That’s a pretty amazing story. I’ve heard of incidents where dolphins protect swimmers, of course. They’re well documented. But I’ve never seen it happen.”

“Exactly. It’s kind of like a near-death experience. It’s
cool to hear about, but when it happens to you, not only do you never doubt they exist, but it’s life-changing.”

“I guess it would be. To be honest, I’m kind of jealous.”

Carson appreciated that he was taking her story seriously. She’d have been crushed if he’d laughed it off as her imagination or flatly disbelieved her.

“What kind of a shark was it?”

“A bull shark.”

“Those guys can be bullies.”

“This one was. It came soaring out of the water like some bullet, all spinning. Then it belly-flopped onto the ocean, making this huge slapping sound and waves.”

“That’s a threatening gesture,” he pointed out. “A warning to the other fish. Even still, shark aggression to humans doesn’t happen often. I get really pissed by those TV shows showing”—he lifted his hands to make a threatening gesture and lowered his voice like a bogeyman—“
shark attacks
. It’s all marketing and the sharks get a bad rap. Most of the accidents with sharks in our waters are just that—accidents. A case of mistaken identity. That water is murky. And in your case, the shape of the surfboard might have resembled a turtle or a seal, both common prey. You weren’t wearing any flashy jewelry in the water?”

“God, no. I’ve been surfing all my life. I know better.”

“We call this kind of attack a hit-and-run. Once the shark figures out the swimmer is too big or not part of his diet, he swims off. At most there’d be a single slash.”

“Great,” Carson said with a roll of the eyes.

“Better than a bite.”

She shuddered at the thought of even a scrape from
the massive teeth she’d seen. “This shark meant business. I could feel it in my gut.”

He paused. “You said you got bumped?”

She nodded.

He pursed his lips. “A bump represents serious hunting. We call this a bump-and-bite. The shark circles the prey, then bumps the victim prior to an actual attack.” He rubbed his jaw. “In thinking more about what happened to you—you’re a lucky girl. Sounds like you were caught in a feeding frenzy. That dolphin might well have saved you from a bite.”

“I know,” she said slowly, her eyes wide. “I’m so grateful. I want to do something.”

“Do something?”

“To help. Volunteer . . .
something
.” She kicked a pebble with her foot. “You couldn’t think of something I could do?”

His smile came, slow, thoughtful. “I think I can. I do an assessment of the resident dolphins every month. We take out our boat and journey all along the waterways where pods hang out. Would you like to come along?”

She couldn’t contain her excitement. “Yes!”

Blake looked at his wristwatch. “Damn. It’s late. I have to run.”

“I should go, too,” Carson said, swallowing the thousands of questions on the tip of her tongue. In fact, she could have sat there with him in that beautiful park for hours more. But he was late and in a hurry.

Blake rose to stand and immediately Hobbs was on his feet, eyes anxiously focused on his master. Blake punched at his phone, checking his calendar. “We’re scheduled to take
the boat this month.” He looked up. “It’ll take all day. Can you get off work?”

“I’ll try. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good. I’ll call you with the details.”

“Okay,” she said, feeling more excited about this boat trip than she had about anything in a very long time. Was it fate that Blake was involved with dolphins? Another sign?

Blake offered her a final smile and a parting wave. “Okay then. I’ve got your number.”

She returned the smile and the wave, then watched him walk off at a fast clip, Hobbs trotting at his heels. Carson reached down for her purse, then ambled slowly along the park back to her golf cart. Oh yes, she thought to herself, swinging her arm. Blake Legare most certainly did have her number.

C
arson arrived at the beach for her kiteboarding lesson. Her body was well primed and well fed and she felt confident with Blake as her teacher. She was ready to hit the water.

She wasn’t prepared for the fact that she’d spend the day with a trainer kite on the beach.

“I don’t need a
trainer
kite,” Carson complained to Blake as they walked along the beach to a quiet corner. She notched her chin up in defiance. “I’ve done a lot of surfing. How much harder can it be?”

“Listen up, Carson,” Blake told her in a firm voice. “Kiting is more about controlling the air than surfing the water. Learning to control the kite is the first step. It’s major. Plus, kites are very expensive when compared to trainer kites.”

“If it’s just about the money, I—”

Blake’s face drew tight and his brows furrowed in annoyance. “When it comes to teaching kiteboarding, Carson, I’m
not going to fool around. Kiteboarding is an extreme sport and potentially dangerous. Your surfing experience will be a bonus, but not at all enough to get you airborne safely. If you didn’t know what you were doing, you could seriously hurt not only yourself, but others out there on the water. And even here on the beach. Those kites have a lot of power and you first have to learn how to harness it and control it. So we’re going to practice on land today with a smaller kite. Okay?”

Blake’s eyes flashed and the way he said
okay
was preemptive. He wasn’t about to tolerate any more complaints. He continued. “Then we’ll progress to other skills. When you master those steps, then, and only then, will I let you go out on the water.” He paused. “With me.”

Figuring resistance was futile at this point, Carson swallowed her pride and nodded in compliance.

Blake stepped closer, put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed her. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

It was a brief kiss, hardly passionate, but it was disarming. Carson suddenly understood what it meant to have the wind go out of one’s sails.

Blake took her out to the beach every day there was wind, and each day she lost a bit more of her anxiety about going back into the ocean. By the end of the week, she was begging Blake to go in. Finally, he declared her ready for the water.

On the big day, they walked side by side to a quiet section of the beach, away from others. Carson felt the anticipation thrumming in her veins. Blake was her assistant for the launch. After they’d pumped air into the kite, she
walked several yards away in the harness while he straightened out the long lines to the kite.

“Gear’s ready. You ready?” he called out.

Carson felt her heart pump wildly in her chest. She froze in the harness, unable to respond.

“Carson?” Blake called again. When she didn’t reply, he set down her kite and trotted to her side.

“You okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

Carson swallowed hard and shook her head. “I’m scared,” she croaked out.

“Okay,” Blake responded, his tone annoyingly like a therapist’s, but reassuring nonetheless. He bent lower at the knees so he could gaze into her eyes straight on. “About what? Getting hurt?”

She nodded.

“You’ve trained for this. You’re ready. And I’ll be right beside you.”

Carson shook her head again, trying to formulate her fears into words. “I keep seeing that shark.”

Blake sighed and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was kiting in Breach Inlet and came down smack on the head of a shark?” She heard his laugh resonate in his chest. “I scared the shark more than it scared me, I promise you. But I just shifted my kite and in the next second I was airborne. That’s what rocks about kite surfing. You ride the wind out there. That’s what it’s all about. You jump up, catch air, maybe grab the board, then crash to the sea. You were made for this sport, Carson. Go on out there and get stoked.”

She felt a surge of adrenaline, and gritting her teeth, she nodded.

Blake trotted back to adjust the long lines that led from her harness to the bright yellow and black kite. Carson held on to her control bar and focused on the half-moon-shaped kite bobbing at the end of the line. On his count, they moved in tandem toward the water; then he lifted the kite high into the air, called out the signal, and let go.