Chapter Six
Humiliation crashed over Lachlan—along with a meter-high wave that whacked him in the face as he surfaced.
Sputtering, he wiped his eyes and watched the Jet Ski circle back in a wide loop.
He was relieved they were out of sight from the tower so the other guys didn’t witness him falling off the ski.
“Come on, come on,” he muttered, treading water. Despite the chilly air, the water was still warm at least.
He was far from shore, and the gray, murky water put him on edge.
Not that he’d see a shark coming in time even in the clearest, bluest water on a perfect day, but it was still unnerving to be so far out.
If someone really was out there and needed their help, Lachlan’s stupidity had cost crucial seconds.
Seconds could mean the difference between life and death.
Why hadn’t he hung on tighter? Well, he knew the answer—he was afraid he’d embarrass himself by touching Tim. Even an innocent, professional grasp so he didn’t go tumbling off the ski like a trainee on his first day felt dangerous.
Tim neared, his expression grim as he eased off the throttle. Lachlan grabbed one of the side handles of the sled and hauled himself up. “Okay!” he yelled as he sat behind Tim once more. He wanted to apologize and give some sort of explanation, but that would only take up more time.
The ski leapt forward, and Lachlan gripped Tim’s shoulder with his right hand, leaning forward with his other hand loose at Tim’s waist but ready to hang on. His left side throbbed where he’d smacked the water at speed.
Damo’s tinny voice on the radio said, “Central to Jet Ski.”
“Copy, Central,” Tim said gruffly.
“Look west a kilometer out off Suz’s Fish Bar.”
“Copy that. Chopper coming?”
“On the way.”
Tim lined up with the landmark and shouted, “Stand up and look.”
Lachlan didn’t need to be told to hold on this time.
For long minutes, he searched the gray water, imagining every whitecap and curl of a wave was a person.
Tim slowed and drove in a methodical grid pattern as Lachlan clung to his broad shoulders, the neoprene slick under his fingers.
The steady thump of the approaching helicopter matched Lachlan’s heart.
“There!” He pointed at the brown mass before it disappeared behind a swell. “Three o’clock.” He kept his arm outstretched and his eyes on the object.
As they neared the mass reappeared—and Lachlan felt them both exhale in relief. Tim got on the radio. “Jet Ski to Central, tell the chopper to stand down. It’s only debris.”
It looked like an old anchor line from a boat, the coarse rope tangled in seaweed and what looked like a pair of jeans. No wonder the good Samaritan on land had feared it was a person.
Tim cut the engine, and Lachlan crawled back onto the sled to haul up the debris. He stayed back there as they returned to Barking, gripping the slimy rope and not sorry to put even a meter of distance between himself and Tim.
Ronnie met them with the trailer as fat splats of rain began to fall, and Tim expertly beached the ski.
As Lachlan and Ronnie dragged the debris up to the foot of the tower, Tim backed in the trailer.
With a deep breath, Lachlan slunk into the storage area and squeezed past the shovels they used to dig the holes for the flags and warning signs.
Tim was waiting.
He’d stripped off his wetsuit top and used a hose to rinse off the saltwater even though it had to be cold.
Lachlan ignored Tim’s bare chest—he’d seen a million of them, and Tim’s was no different.
Just another body. It didn’t matter that he’d run his fingers through that reddish chest hair.
Or that he wanted to do it now despite everything.
“Someone could’ve died because you didn’t do your job.”
Tim might as well have turned the cold hose on him. Lachlan dripped on the sandy, cold concrete and tried to think of something to say.
“If that had been a drowning person—”
“I know.” He rubbed his damp face. “Believe me, I know.”
“If I tell you to do something, you bloody well do it.”
God, that shouldn’t have sent a bolt of desire burning through him. Lachlan had stuffed up and gotten lucky that no one had been hurt. He vibrated with adrenaline and frustration at himself. And extremely inappropriate and confusing lust.
“We have to do our jobs,” Tim hissed. “Even though you figured you’d have a laugh and trick me—”
“I wasn’t having a laugh!” Lachlan hissed back. He peeked past the trailer and buggy to make sure they were still alone. “Is that what you think?”
Nostrils flaring, Tim ground out, “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” He kept his voice low. “Yes, I knew who you were, but it wasn’t a laugh.”
“Then why would a fit young bloke like you—”
“Because I want you.” He quickly added, “Wanted you. That night. I’d had such a crush on you when I was a kid, and—”
“Christ, don’t say that.” Tim grimaced.
“I’m a man now. You didn’t recognize me, and it was fun to be someone else for a night. Someone new.”
“Fun,” Tim echoed furiously.
“Not in a making fun sort of way.” Lachlan shook his head. “I wasn’t taking the piss. Come on, you were there.”
“Don’t remind me,” Tim grumbled. “Now here we bloody are.”
“I didn’t know you were about to take over for Teddy!” Lachlan’s voice rose, and he lowered it to a whisper with effort. “I thought I’d never see you again. Look, I know it was wrong not to tell you who I was, but if I had, you’d never have touched me. Would you?”
“Never,” Tim agreed through a clenched jaw. “And I never will again.”
Despite all the logic Lachlan was trying to remember, that hurt. But he agreed, “Never again.”
He turned and made himself busy as Tim hosed off the sled. When Lachlan pulled his wetsuit shirt over his head, he winced at the swell of pain in his ribs.
“You injured yourself?” Tim demanded.
“It’s nothing.” He gingerly peeled the wetsuit down his arms—then jerked as Tim’s callused hand gripped his shoulder.
Behind him, Tim’s warm breath ghosted over Lachlan’s neck as he touched Lachlan’s ribs. But he didn’t poke and prod impatiently. No, his rough fingers were achingly gentle, skimming over Lachlan’s skin.
“It’ll bruise,” he said calmly. “You can breathe okay?”
How on earth was he supposed to breathe? Lachlan managed a nod.
“Good,” Tim said coldly as he stepped away. “Last thing we need is to be down a lifeguard. Stay out of my sight and clean up this place.”
Lachlan grabbed the hose and turned it on full blast, dousing himself with cold water.
An hour later, he was patrolling the south end. The rain showers were intermittent, and tourists were still gamely having their swim at Barking, most of them between the flags for a change. As he reached the rocky end of the beach, he spotted a girl of about twelve hobbling from the water.
A gangly teenage boy followed her, waving to Lachlan and calling, “She stepped on an urchin!”
Lachlan helped her into the buggy and radioed the tower. The red-faced girl, whose name was Amelia, was visiting from the UK. The boy was her local cousin, and he was saying again, “I told you not to follow me on the rocks!”
Amelia’s eyes gleamed with tears, her chin wobbling. But she didn’t cry, and Lachlan gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’ll be right. It’s not your fault. You can tell all your mates back home you had the full Barking Beach experience.”
She tried to smile. “Do a lot of people s-step on sea urchins?”
“Only the coolest people.”
Amelia did smile at that.
Lachlan could only imagine how painful it was to have sea urchin spines embedded in your foot. “Is it okay if I carry you up to the tower? It’ll be quicker than you trying to hop.”
She went even redder and nodded.
Tim waited at the top of the stairs—because of course he did. Couldn’t be Ronnie or Damo or Hazza or Bickie. On the wooden landing, Lachlan gently sat Amelia on a waiting chair and lowered her foot into a plastic tub of warm water.
Kneeling, Tim said, “I’d ask how you’re going, but I’m sure you’ve had better days. You’re very brave.”
Amelia’s pimply-faced cousin hung back at the top of the stairs. “Does it hurt as much as a bluebottle?”
“Worse than a bluey,” Tim said, taking Amelia’s ankle in his gloved hands.
Lachlan had never been in contact with a sea urchin but knew the hard, delicate spines carried toxin and easily broke off. Stepping on one was a nightmare. He patted Amelia’s trembling shoulder. “You’re tough.”
Sniffling, she whispered, “Thank you.”
“I need to pull out what’s left of the broken spines,” Tim said. “I can see five or six.” He asked Amelia, “Is it all right if my friend here holds your hand, darling? He’s afraid of tweezers.”
Solemnly, Amelia reached up for Lachlan’s hand, and he said, “Thank you.”
The small wounds where the fine urchin spines had penetrated Amelia’s foot were already red, and he could only imagine how painful the toxin was. Once bluebottle venom got into the system, it was excruciating for a couple of hours, and given urchins were worse…
Tim flipped over the plastic tub, water spilling over the wood planks, and rested her foot on top with a clean towel underneath. Amelia gripped Lachlan’s hand with her little fingers as Tim examined the arch of her foot.
“Lucky you didn’t stand on it with your whole foot,” Tim said. “All right, these tweezers are terrifying for Lachlan, so hold on to him tight.”
With such gentleness, Tim eased out a spine. It was about a centimeter long, and the cousin made a horrified noise. Amelia whimpered as Tim had to dig a bit for the next one, her shoulders shaking as she fought a sob.
“I’m about ready to cry,” Lachlan whispered. “So you go ahead.”
Tim met his gaze, but Lachlan couldn’t read his expression before Tim dropped his head again.
Patiently, he coaxed out the five pieces of spine, then washed the wounds with fresh soapy water.
He finished with antiseptic and wrapped a bandage around Amelia’s foot, leaving her heel and toes free.
Lachlan gave her hand a squeeze. “Worst part’s over, I promise. ”
Tim told the cousin, “If there’s any fever or serious swelling or any signs of infection, she should see a doc.
Tell her parents she can have over-the-counter NSAIDs for the pain.
” To Amelia, he said, “You’re one of the bravest patients I’ve ever had.
I’ve seen grown men howl over urchin stings. Good on ya.”
She grinned and swiped at her tear-stained cheeks. “See?” she said to her cousin. “Told you I’m not a baby.”
After they left, Tim knelt to gather the first aid kit. “You were good with her.”
“Thanks.” He watched Tim disinfect the tweezers and dry them on a fresh towel. “You too, uh, Bull.”
Tim grimaced. “Don’t.”
“You don’t want me to call you Bull?”
“Sounds strange coming from you.”
“You introduced yourself as Tim…uh, before.”
He didn’t meet Lachlan’s eyes. “Yeah, it’s nice to hear it for a change. But don’t you bloody dare call me Timmy or Timbo. It’s Tim or Bull.”
“Aw, come on, Timbo!” Lachlan had to laugh at the glare shot his way—and ignore a pulse of desire.
Tim wasn’t laughing. He nodded to the water with a jerk of his chin. “First aid’s over. You’re supposed to be looking that way.”
“Right.” Lachlan spun and scanned the gray waves.
Watch the water. Don’t stare at your best friend’s dad—also now your boss—and think about how much you want to kiss him.