Page 63 of Catching Trouble

She nodded, sitting on the bench that ran up the middle of the boat.

With a grimace, I pushed the craft out of the shallows, climbing in after her. The sea may have terrible timing, but as I untethered my oars, the back of my hand burned where she’d touched me.

20

CHLOE

Ipushed out a breath; the bubbles fizzing over my cheeks. Damn that sea glass. My trumpeter’s lungs weren’t as reliable as I originally thought.

I’d been trying to reach the treasure for what seemed like forever. Diving into the kelp—swimming through its ribbons. Every time I got close, buoyancy pulled me back to the surface. No matter how hard I kicked, I couldn’t make it down to the rocks.

Fish darted around me, taunting me with their agility and gills. I’d joked to Maxime about him being a merman with a shimmery tail. If only it were true—I’d send him down to fetch it for me.

With a frown, I kicked to the surface. When I broke into the daylight, I searched for him. He was right where I left him, standing in his boat, casting his net into the depths.

I smiled, running my gaze over his powerful body. What was it about him that made my belly ache? When he’d run his fingertips over my cheek earlier, I’d almost doubled over with need.

Maxime readied his net again,casting it into the choppyblue, his glorious arms firing muscles left, right and centre. It was all I could do to keep my focus on the waves. They’d grown in height since I’d been underwater, and their white tips tickled at my nose.

Admitting defeat, I pushed my face into the chilly blue. I blinked into the gloom below and everything blurred. I hadn’t brought my goggles today, but even if I had, the water wasn’t as clear. Maxime said it was to do with the wind. The change in the current stirred up the bottom.

I brought my head up to suck in a fresh lungful of oxygen. As if sensing my focus on him, Maxime turned over his shoulder.

“Anything?” I asked.

He shook his head. “The fish don’t want to come today.”

I fought a smile. Silly fish.

With a kick, I swam back towards the boat. When I reached it, I gave an extra push with my legs, tucking one elbow over the side before driving upward to climb aboard. Maxime dropped his net rope and reached for my arm.

With a grunt, he pulled me in. I swear he had superhuman powers, because with one tug, he brought me straight to my feet. I steadied myself against his hard body. His skin was hot to my cold, and I sucked in a shaky breath.

“I really must get better at that,” I mumbled.

He ran his hazel eyes over my face. “No need. I’ve got you.”

At the catch in his voice, my skin tingled. But instead of following my urge to latch onto him like a barnacle, I sent him a smile, sitting down on the seat.

“At the very least, I could improve my kicks. My mum always jokedI had legs like pipe cleaners.”

Maxime quickly swept his eyes over my thighs before turning. He retrieved his rope and pulled the net into the boat. As he worked, he bent low, giving me the most delicious view of his tight buttocks and the bronze skin of his neck.

He’d tethered his hair into a small knot at his nape. I smiled.

Practical? Yes. But did I want to undo it? Run my fingers through his salty locks? Absolutely.

“What were you doing down there?”

His voice broke my fantasy.

“Sorry?”

“Underwater. You were diving pretty deep. The wind’s getting up and the clouds are building. I didn’t want you going too far.”

He’d watched?

“I’ve been trying to get a piece of sea glass. It’s too far down, though, wedged in the kelp. I considered tying a rock to one of my legs for weight, but knowing my luck, it’d end in tears. I can just imagine what Iris would put on my gravestone: ‘She tried her best but really didn’t think it through.’”