Chapter Nineteen
A lightness floated inside Angela’s chest. Adrenaline painted the ocean and sky vivid blues and made her feel invincible. Her heartbeat and thoughts were still too fast. She hadn’t been kidding. This experience must be what flying high, completely untouchable, was like.
The ocean was cold. The waves pulled back, but Angela was deep enough that the water covered her knees. She held out her arms as if to soak in all the warmth the world had to offer.
Another wave rolled toward her. Sawyer splashed as he ran into the water. The rolling wave crested, churning sand on its path. Sawyer scooped her as a wave hit. Laughing, Angela hooked her arm around his neck and squealed through the roaring onslaught of cold salt water.
Farther out, another wave formed. Sawyer cradled her to his chest and plunged deeper into the water.
“It’s coming.” She kicked her legs and waited until the last moment to bury her face in his neck.
His laughter and roaring water surrounded her. He waited until the last second before turning their backs to the wave. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks. The salt burned her eyes. But she didn’t care as he jumped the waves and dodged seaweed.
“Are you used to the water yet?” he asked.
“Nope.” Every time the water retreated, the wind blew over her skin. She held out her arm. “Goose bumps.”
“Then we have to go deeper.” He carried her until the water lapped at his chest. “Past the waves.”
Water pulled around them. “Sawyer…” He carried her until it reached his shoulders. “How deep are we?”
Angela kicked her legs again and tried to stand. The water covered her face. She pushed off the smooth sand and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I can’t stand here.”
“But are you warmer?”
She considered. “Yes.”
His handsome grin made her insides wriggle. “Then mission accomplished.”
“If I let go, I’m going to drown.”
He laughed. “You know how to swim.” But his hands found the backs of her thighs and wrapped her legs around his waist.
The heavy thud of her heart drummed louder than Mother Nature.
The crystal-clear adrenaline high that had her rollicking with laughter had been replaced with a heavy feeling in her lungs and arms, a sensation so wonderful and terrifying that she was certain she might drown if Sawyer weren’t there to hold her up.
Then again, Sawyer was the reason she couldn’t breathe.
This man was her friend. Her protector. Her bodyguard. She shouldn’t have a loopy, lightheaded desire to be this close, craving more. And the way he watched her made Angela’s stomach hit the sea floor and roll like a pummeling wave.
She should say something. Laugh. Joke. Hell, disappear under the cold water. But she couldn’t. His damp hair clung to his temples. Rivulets of salt water slid down his skin.
They were so close and not moving—until his palms skimmed over her thighs and ass and slid up her back. Angela could see her chest rise and fall in the water. Her breaths were too deep, but the oxygen wasn’t clearing her sun-kissed brain fog.
“You okay?” he asked.
She had to swallow before her voice allowed a small “yes.”
His forehead dipped to hers. His breath tickled her cheeks, and with her eyes closed, she felt his heartbeat thunder in his chest just like hers.
Angela opened her eyes. He was watching her. This close, she could see the flecks of ice blue in his irises. Her mouth watered for his, and she tilted her head as if too quick a move would change everything.
Sawyer’s soft lips brushed hers with a saltwater kiss sweet enough to boil her insides. His hungry hands kneaded into her sides, but his kiss tortured her. She melted in his arms. His mouth moved over hers, teasing, parting her lips with his tongue.
Desire rumbled in his chest, tangling with their kiss. Her tongue touched his. Electricity and insanity spiraled down her spine. She’d never known need this intense.
And then it ended.
Sawyer gently kissed her again. Chaste and sweet. He squeezed her close and then relaxed his grip. Angela wanted to scream. Her eyes opened. He was watching her again. This time, his eyes had a different look, one she hated.
His eyes pinched, and a sad smile hung on his beautiful face. “Sorry.”
The apology was too much. Her arousal morphed into anger. She wanted to ask questions, but all she could do was push away and tread the water. “Don’t say that.”
His grin hitched. “Then I’m not sorry.”
She didn’t like that either. Her lips pursed.
Sawyer grabbed her arm and pulled it to his neck. “I can’t let you drown.”
“I’m a strong swimmer,” she protested, looking to bicker. “I don’t need your help.”
Sawyer ignored her and guided them back toward the shore.
Sawyer didn’t want to let Angela go. When they reached shallower water, he could have given her space. Actually, he couldn’t. He didn’t want her angry and running off. But he let her go.
They walked out of the water, inches apart but miles away.
Salt water slid down her face. The sun had turned her cheeks pink, and her hair was wild.
But gone was the carefree happiness she’d radiated earlier.
That was his fault. He should say something, but nothing had come to mind since the moment he realized he had crossed the line.
She’d crossed it with him.
That didn’t matter. They were in two very different places. Angela was rebounding from Paul, and Sawyer… Sawyer had a past that would always haunt him.
Years had passed since he’d been in love, not to mention in pain. That he could see similarities between the two women who were nothing alike terrified him, and it wasn’t fair to either woman.
Even thinking about that made him feel ill. There was more to his friendship with—and attraction to—Angela than he wanted to admit. The last week had avalanched over him in a way that he couldn’t have predicted and didn’t know how to make sense of.
“I’m exhausted.” She cupped a hand over her eyes and searched for the belongings she’d tossed. “And I’m shriveled up like a raisin.”
They had drifted. He spotted her hat and shoes but let her lead the way to where they had started. The water excursion hadn’t been planned. They didn’t have towels or chairs, but she sat in the sand at the edge of the waves’ reach.
Neither of them talked about what had just happened. He made himself comfortable at her side. Their legs extended in front of them.
Angela leaned back on her elbows. Should he say something? Sawyer didn’t know what to say, so he lay down and let the sun beat against him.
Maybe he should have let her pull together an agenda for the day because he didn’t know what to do next.
A football skidded across the water and bumped against his knee. Sawyer palmed it, saw the kids who had been throwing it—they looked very similar to the kids from the beach house—and lofted the ball. They squealed in delight and were definitely the same kids.
“I know those shrieks,” she said.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw the canopy that the family had staked up. A woman raised her arm to thank him for throwing the ball.
The ball sailed back toward Sawyer but fell short a few yards. Grateful for the distraction and unable to resist a football, he lumbered off the sand and returned the throw.
A kid threw back with increased accuracy.
“Nice throw,” Sawyer called.
Angela pulled her hat on and then leaned onto her elbows again. “Looks like you made a friend.”
Her voice didn’t have the slightest sound of irritation as after he’d kissed her in the ocean. Partly relieved but semi-disappointed, he laughed and lofted the ball back.
Delighted shrieks ensued again. Angela smiled. He did too.
“Give me a minute. Football duty calls.”
“Take your time,” she replied. “I’m going to dry off and search for my dignity.”
So she hadn’t forgotten about the kiss. He didn’t know what to say, so he winked. “It’s probably with mine.”
Angela laughed. Thank God.
He jogged toward the kids. “You guys wanna throw the ball?”
They mostly screeched and shrieked instead of talking, but he rolled with it, tossing the football back and forth.
Sometimes Sawyer pitched it high toward the overhead sun and let it divebomb straight into the sand.
Other times, he jogged circles around the kids, faking them this way and that.
Most often, the kids didn’t come close to landing a catch.
But when they did, Sawyer joined in the celebration like they had caught Super-Bowl-winning touchdowns.
He bowed out of another round of toss when the kids were called for more sunscreen, and his stomach growled.
Angela clapped for him as he jogged back. “Who knew you had such skills?”
Sawyer held out a hand and helped her up. “I grew up playing with anything with a ball. Football. Basketball. Soccer. I’m a regular jack-of-all-trades.”
“No, I mean with little kids. You’re a natural.”
He glanced over his shoulder. The kids squirmed as their parents slathered them in sunblock. Yeah, he was good with kids and had always thought so. “They’re fun.”
“Do you have any younger siblings?
“Nope.” He gave Angela a once-over. “You look like you could use sunscreen too.”
“You always change the subject when it comes to you,” she chided.
“Do I?” He shrugged. “Are you hungry?”
“See?” She pointed at him but admitted, “I’m starving.”
“Then let’s go eat.”
They picked up the pace toward their beach house.
His mind drifted in circles, from kissing Angela to avoiding conversations.
He checked over his shoulder again but couldn’t see anyone they’d left behind on the beach.
If life hadn’t broken him down, would he be one of the families who dotted the beach, playing in the sand and surf? Sawyer didn’t see why not.
They arrived at their beach house and used the outdoor shower to wash off the sand.
“Oh, that’s cold.” Angela rubbed sand off her legs where his hands had just been. Sawyer bit his tongue before offering to help and then took his time with his much-needed cold shower.