Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
ELI
The pool water was crystal clear around us as I demonstrated buoyancy control, my arms out and my body remaining absolutely still.
Jules watched intently, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she tried to mimic my movements.
Her raven hair was coiled into a bun like usual, but underwater, it looked natural, not severe.
The mask amplified her green eyes, making the various hues even more compelling. She really did have gorgeous eyes.
After several rounds of practice, I gave her the thumbs-up. We surfaced, and I couldn’t help but grin at the determined set of her jaw. “Not bad for a beginner. You’re getting the hang of it.”
“I think I understand now. What you meant about popping up like a cork if I add too much air to my BCD.”
“Exactly. It’s all about finding that sweet spot.” I winked, unable to resist a little flirtation. “Kind of like life, right?”
To my surprise, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I suppose so. Though I prefer my balance sheets to be precise not… sweet.”
I laughed, treading water easily. “Come on, Jules, admit it. You’re having fun breaking free from those spreadsheets.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “I wouldn’t go that far. But it is oddly freeing.”
“That’s exactly what it is. You’re literally weightless. Let’s work on it some more.”
As she practiced the technique again, I found myself watching her with growing interest. There was something compelling about the way she approached each new challenge I threw at her—meticulous, focused, but with a sense of adventure I hadn’t expected from our by-the-book accountant.
It was a different side from the driven, detail-oriented woman I’d known, but it suited her to learn a very unnatural skill.
Most kids took to scuba naturally, but adults were another story.
She was continually surprising me. And impressing me.
“I gotta say, you’re a natural,” I said when we resurfaced. “Must be all that number crunching giving you ninja-like precision.”
Jules splashed water in my direction, her eyes glinting. “Very funny. I’ll have you know there are plenty of things I’m good at.”
“Oh really?” A flood of images flashed through my mind.
Images involving her and me doing things that had nothing to do with work.
Or scuba diving. Yeah, I was definitely seeing her in a new light, but I didn’t want to push our newfound common ground too far.
“Care to put that to the test? I bet I can hold my breath longer than you.”
“That’s hardly a fair competition,” Jules protested, but I could see the competitive glint in her eye. “You’re a professional diver. Suppose I challenged you to depreciate next quarter’s expenditures?”
I shrugged, grinning. “Scared, Verne?”
“Not even a little. I’m just keeping you sharp for your family dinner tonight.”
I frowned at the reminder of what I had coming up after our pool session. “A collection of Coleridges is absolutely a reason to stay sharp. I take it you’re not up to the breath-holding challenge?”
“You wish. You’re on.”
As we both took deep breaths, preparing to submerge, it occurred to me how things had changed between us.
The razor-sharp accountant I’d first met was still there, but beneath that professional exterior lurked a woman full of surprises.
And humor. And damn if that combination wasn’t becoming more appealing by the minute.
After our impromptu breath-holding contest—to her credit, Jules gave me a run for my money—I glanced at the brilliantly lit western horizon and reluctantly called an end to our practice.
“See you at the next classroom session?” I asked, hauling myself out of the pool. Water cascaded off my body as I offered Jules a hand up. She hesitated for a moment before taking it, her fingers warm against mine.
“I suppose I can pencil you in.” A definite smile played at her lips.
“Careful, Jules. That almost sounded like you enjoy my company.”
“Don’t let it go to your head. It’s a requirement, remember?”
As we gathered our gear, I found myself wanting to know more about my unexpected student. “You know, you’re picking this up really fast. Maybe we should celebrate your progress at Tropical Hops.”
Jules paused, towel in hand. “Are you asking me out, Eli?”
“What? No, I—” I backpedaled, suddenly aware of what I’d said. My mouth always ran away with me. It was a terrible habit. “Just a friendly offer. You know, instructor to student.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Noted. But don’t you have a dinner to get to?”
I groaned dramatically, grateful for the subject change.
“Don’t remind me. We have two family activities once a month or so.
The bonfires, which are a lot of fun, and the family dinners like tonight.
Which are usually less boozy and more minding our manners at the table.
I’d much rather stay here and get waterlogged. ”
Her smile changed her whole expression. Her teeth were white and even, her lips round and generous.
“I imagine you could spend most of your time getting waterlogged. See you tomorrow, Eli.”
As I headed toward the dive shop, I couldn’t help but glance back.
Jules was still by the pool, wringing water from her hair.
The setting sun bathed her in amber, illuminating the beads of water on her shoulders and chest. That very un-accountant-like chest. That very womanly, curvy chest. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Shaking my head, I turned away. What the hell was happening to me?
I arrived at Mom’s house, a sprawling four-bedroom ranch that discreetly overlooked the resort like a watchful parent, yet was screened by foliage to remain mostly unseen.
The familiar scent of sea salt and gardenias hit me as I stepped onto the wraparound porch.
This place held a lifetime of memories. Some good, some…
well, let’s just say I was glad to have my own place now.
Pushing open the door, I called out, “Anyone home? Or did you all start without me?”
Mom’s voice drifted from the kitchen. “In here, Eli!”
I found them settling around the large oak table, the one that had witnessed countless family dinners and heated discussions. Harper was helping Mom set out plates, while Finn entertained himself with a toy boat.
“There’s my favorite nephew,” I said, ruffling Finn’s hair as I passed.
Harper laughed. “He’s your only nephew.”
“Details, details.” I grinned, then turned to Mom. “Need any help?”
She waved me off. “Just sit down. Austin should be here any minute.”
As if on cue, the back door opened, and my younger brother walked in. Austin’s rugged face was etched with the day’s sun, his movements deliberate as he hung up his jacket.
“Hey,” he said quietly, nodding in my direction.
“Look what the tide dragged in,” I quipped as I rose to grab some steaming serving bowls from the kitchen. Despite Mom trying to shoo me, I wasn’t going to let her and Harper do all the drudge work. I set a platter of rolls in front of Austin. “How was the fishing?”
His gray eyes brightened as he smoothed his dark hair. Our fishing charter captain, Austin had loved fishing since he could hold a rod. “It was a great day. Had a family out, and the dad hooked a two-hundred-pound tarpon. You should’ve seen it, Eli. The fight lasted nearly two hours.”
I leaned forward. “No kidding? Did they land it?”
Austin launched into the story, his usual reserve melting away as he described the battle between man and fish.
I found myself grinning, caught up in his enthusiasm.
It was moments like these when I saw glimpses of the brother I’d grown up with before everything changed.
Before he changed. But despite that and our very different personalities, we had a lot of similarities too.
We were less than three years apart. And when it came to the ocean, we spoke the same language.
“Sounds like quite the experience,” I said when he finished. “Maybe I should trade in my scuba gear for a fishing rod.”
Austin’s mouth twitched in a quick smile. “You tried that, remember? You don’t have the patience for it.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” I laughed as I carried over a bowl of mashed potatoes and another of roasted zucchini Mom grew in her garden. “But at least I don’t have to sit still for two hours waiting for a fish to decide if it wants to join me for dinner.”
Harper chimed in, “You know, if you focused on other things as much as you do diving, you’d probably be running this resort by now.”
I shrugged, tossing a glance at Mom. “Not everyone can handle the pressure of being the perfect child like you, Harper. Some of us have chosen the path of least resistance.”
Mom sighed but couldn’t hide her smile. “Oh please, Eli. Your path of least resistance keeps us all smiling.”
I slid into my seat, the worn wooden chair creaking beneath me, a sound that felt like home.
The table was a feast of colors and aromas—a perfectly cooked roast, buttery corn on the cob, and a vibrant salad bursting with greens from Mom’s garden.
My mouth watered as I grabbed a plate and piled it high.
“Wow, Mom. This looks amazing!” I exclaimed. She always had a knack for turning simple ingredients into something magical, just as she had turned this house into a safe haven over the years.
“Only the best for my family,” she said modestly, but her smile betrayed how much she liked the compliment.
As we dug into the meal, I took a moment to soak it all in—the warmth of my family, the food that felt like a hug, and the memories intertwined with every corner of this house.
Jules’s words echoed in my mind—appreciate what you have.
And in this moment, it was easy to do that. Easy to forget the bad times.