Page 15

“You knew the old owner? I think my grandma and him were good friends back in the day.”
I nod. “Jacob Hayes.”
After joining Dex on the bed, I remind myself I don’t have underwear on and to keep my thighs clamped tightly shut. If I relax my legs, this man is going to get much more than a peep show. He’d get a full-on, front-row seat to my at-home, DIY Brazilian wax job.
“Jacob used to come into the restaurant I worked at. I was only seventeen, and the restaurant wouldn’t give me the good shifts because I couldn’t legally bartend yet. My family had just gone through some tough times, and I needed cash. So, Jacobhired me at the dive shop.” I smile at the memory. “He paid me under the table to stock inventory, reserve the pool at the rec center for classes, return customer calls when their equipment was in, that sort of thing. Jacob was the only reason I had some new clothes and gas money my senior year.”
Dex smiles. “Seems like a nice enough guy.”
“Nice guy? Jacob was…was…” I search my brain for the right word. How the hell do I sum up Jacob Hayes? “Legendary.That’s the best way to describe him. Everybody loved him. He was always smiling. And he had the best stories. He literally traveled the world diving and sailing. It sucked when he passed away a few years ago. Everybody tried to pitch in and keep the shop running in his honor, but we just couldn’t hold it together. I was too young and wasn’t certified to teach. Mel moved to Cali. Sanders is even more broke than I am, not to mention he’s in a very committed relationship with his bong. And Delilah got married and had twins. She didn’t have time to run the shop.” I hold up my hands, shaking them around. “I’m droning on but what I mean to say is, I’m so glad someone bought it. It’s a really special place.”
“It sounds like I have big shoes to fill.”
I widen my eyes. “Huge.”
“Why didn’t his kids do something with it?” Dex asks.
Shaking my head, I shrug. “As far as I know, no kids. No wife. Just a life full of adventure.”
“I see.” Dex’s eyes shift down and to the left like he’s debating something. After a quick moment of contemplation, he places his hand on my knee. “So, what’s been your favorite place to dive?”
I point to my chest, trying to act casual. But his large hand on my knee has me wanting to jump right out of my skin. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“I don’t have one. I just pitched in at the shop. I’ve never been scuba diving. I can swim. I just don’t do ocean stuff.”
Dex stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What do you mean you don’t do ‘ocean stuff?’”
I feel like I was pretty clear. I don’t like the ocean and I don’t want to get scuba certified. My top five worst fears go like this: One, getting eaten by a shark. Two, getting bitten by a shark and then bleeding to death in the ocean. Three, being pulled to the ocean floor by a giant octopus and being squeezed to death. Four, getting eaten by a shark again. Five, getting mistaken for a seal and an orca crushing my bones like I’m a doggie chew toy.
“I’m just more of a pool kind of girl. Where there are no sharks.”
“Oh, you’re one of those,” he says, squeezing my knee. I don’t appreciate his nonchalance at my paralyzing fear, but his hand is inching higher up my leg, and my brain has gone too fuzzy to snap back with something sassy. “Lennox, you have a much higher chance of drowning in the ocean than encountering an aggressive shark. And if by some miraculous chance a shark bit you, I promise it’d be only once—accidental or exploratory. Most bite victims survive.”
“Wow.” Now, it’s my turn to stare at him like he’s crazy.
He notices my vexed expression and asks, “What?”
“Oh, I’m just picturing what the coroner’s face would look like as they write ‘accidental’ or ‘exploratory’ nibble as the cause of death in my file.”
He laughs and gently pats my mid-thigh, sending tingles up my spine. “You can’t let irrational fear keep you out of the ocean.”
“Oh, I can. And I do.”
“Certify with me,” he insists.
“Even if I wanted to, I can’t afford it. And let me reiterate…I don’t want to.”
“Free of charge. I’m new to instruction, and I could use the help. You can be my practice student and give me feedback on how I’m doing as a teacher. In exchange, I’ll pay for your certs, get you custom-fitted equipment, and everything else you need. What do you say?”
It becomes abundantly clear that Dex understands exactly how good-looking he is and the effect he has on women. He purposely ducks his head and looks up at me through his thick, dark lashes. He even goes as far as batting them a bit. “I’ll give you private lessons, and we’ll take baby steps. We don’t even have to do your open water cert in the ocean. We could do a lake if you prefer.”
I drop my jaw. “Lakes are worse. That’s where man-eating saltwater crocodiles live. I assure you, their bites would not be accidental.”
“Man-eating saltwater crocodiles?” he asks in disbelief. “How much time are you spending watching theSyFynetwork?”
I start counting the killer marine animal movies I’ve binged on theSyFynetwork in my head but lose track around eight. “Not a lot.”