The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(12)



Just like that, I told myself. Just paddling. Easy peasy.

It was not easy peasy. My arms burned, but my pride wouldn’t let me call it quits. The water grew darker as I swam further out, and I tried not to think about what lurked underneath and how my feet wouldn’t touch the bottom if I fell off my board. I worked harder to stay close to Wyatt. Every few strokes he would glance over his shoulder to make sure I was near. Even without my glasses, I could see the guy was hardly breaking a sweat. Me, on the other hand, I breathed hard and my muscles burned, even the ones in my legs that I didn’t think were working. My abs hurt already.

The area we paddled to wasn’t as calm as where we started. The waves were bigger out here, picking me up and dropping me as they passed. I swallowed and my pulse beat in my ears from the exercise and nerves. My board tipped with a passing wave and I nearly fell off, wobbling and clinging to it hard.

I had to work hard to keep my balance laying down. What would standing up be like?

As if he read my thoughts, Wyatt stopped paddling, reached out for my board and steered it so we both had our backs to the wave.

I looked over my shoulder with alarm at the approaching wave. “What are you doing?”

He shot me a challenging grin. “Here you go, bookworm. Your first wave.”

I shook my head vehemently. “No. I’m not ready.”

He nodded. “Sure you are. Get in the ready position.”

My hands came to the board on my hips without my permission. It was like his words had authority over my body. Traitorous hands. Wyatt did the same over on his board. I drifted away from him. My heart beat in my ears. I shook my head at him, fear pounding in my ears, and he nodded back at me with bright eyes.

The wave was right behind us.

“Start paddling,” he said, and began to propel himself forward.

“What?” I called after him. “You didn’t tell me this part!” I tried to follow him but he was too fast.

The water crested around me. Was this the part where I was supposed to assume the ready position or get up? I placed my hands on either side of my hips, about to pop up on my board but before I could, the wave knocked me off, face-first into the water.

My nose burned as my head submerged, and my eyes stung. I hated getting water in my eyes. My chest heaved with a cough and I inhaled a mouthful of water. My leash tugged on my ankle and a moment later, the board bonked me on the back of the head—a stark reminder that I didn’t know what the hell was I was doing.

I wrenched my burning eyes open above the surface and took a breath as another wave crashed into my face, sending even more water up my nose.

A firm hand wrapped around my upper arm, hauled me up onto my board with ease, and I crumpled onto it, coughing and sputtering.

“Nice work,” Wyatt crowed. He paddled us single-handed further into a nearby cove, where it was calmer, while gripping my board.

I blinked at him with a frown. “Are you making fun of me?”

He laughed. “Of course not. You’re doing great.”

I spat more salty water back into the ocean and coughed again. My eyes watered. “Wyatt, I hate to be rude, but you’re a terrible surf instructor.”

He laughed and continued paddling. “You’re on an accelerated curriculum.”

My mouth fell open and I tried to sit up on my board. It rocked with my teetering weight and I slipped back under the water.

When I had re-emerged, I shot him a glare. “What lesson did I just learn?”

His teeth flashed with a grin. “That was your first bail. Not so bad, right?”

Unbelievable. “Are you kidding me? Yes, it was so bad. You dragged me out here in the middle of the night to humiliate me.”

He shook his head. “When we come back out next time, you won’t be as afraid of falling off your board.” He took in the sky, a clear, light blue, dotted with a few clouds over the forest. “And now that you’ve worked for it, you can enjoy the view.”

We floated on our boards, listening to the sound of the waves behind us on the shore. Two seagulls bobbed in the water nearby, ignoring us. My feet were frozen solid, and I wiggled them to get my circulation moving.

Beside me, Wyatt studied the sky with a wistful expression. That playful smirk of his was gone, replaced with a calm, thoughtful look.

“Do you come out here every day?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. One with the ocean, and all that.”

He smiled to himself. “I wouldn’t say I’m one with it. The ocean is like this huge, unpredictable monster that could kill us at anytime.”

“What?” My eyes widened, and I glanced down at the water around us. I couldn’t see further than a couple feet beneath the surface. Panic hit my bloodstream. “What do you mean, kill us? Like, sharks?” I pictured the scene from Jaws, where the shark hoisted himself into the boat.

Wyatt nodded. “Yep, there are sharks out here. Sometimes when we’re paddling, the silhouette of us on our boards looks like a seal to them.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Dinner.”

“Dinner?” My voice squeaked and that mischievous grin returned to Wyatt’s face.

“I’m teasing you, bookworm.” His teeth flashed. “There have been sightings of Great Whites but only a few. If you see a shark, it’s likely a salmon shark, not a Great White.”

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