Rebound (Boomerang #2)(30)

“Sorry, but . . .” She smiles and points at her back. “My zipper’s jammed.” She turns around and pulls her ponytail up. “Can you help me out?”

“Sure. You want this on, right? Just want to be sure.”

I can’t see her face, but I know she’s smiling. “Yes. On please.”

I allow myself a moment to enjoy the way she looks right in front of me. Then I take the zipper leash, letting my knuckles drift over her back, just above the knot of her bikini.

If I weren’t completely focused on her, I’d have missed the way she curls slightly toward me.

Focus, Blackwood. Zip the wetsuit up.

“Tell me something,” I say, tugging on the jammed material. “Do you have some problem with zippers?” I ask, remembering her cat suit.

She laughs. “It was Philippe’s doing on Halloween night. He says zippers are the scars of fashion.”

With both of us barefoot, she’s a few inches shorter than me, and I like it. How she feels a little smaller. The urge to wrap her in my arms is strong. To peel the suit off her and kiss her shoulder. We’re alone back here with the sunlight and the seagulls. I could lay her out on the chaise lounge and spend the rest of the day exploring her. I could sink myself—

Graham’s voice carries down from a deck somewhere above us. He’s laughing. It’s a loud sound, a downright guffaw. I know he’s on the phone because he hasn’t sounded that happy once with his wife or his daughter. Shitty. Shitty family dynamics. But Graham’s laugh gets me back on track.

I finally get the jam sorted out and zip her up. “All set.”

“Thanks.” Ali’s smiling as she faces me, but it fades as her eyes travel to my tattoo. I wonder what she’s thinking. If she’s remembering our time in the Gallianos’ garage. How we’d been all over each other. Just completely crazed to taste and touch as much of one another as we could.

When her blue eyes come back to mine, I see curiosity in them and sweetness. Her attention on me is complete but somehow soft. It’s an expression that’s uniquely hers and it’s a temptation. It makes me want to let her in and tell her everything. The whole f*cking sob story of my life. Of me and Chloe.

I look at her earrings. “You going to wear those in the water?”

“Yep. I never take them off.” She tips her head toward our tanks. “So, Blackwood. Are we doing this?”

“We’re doing this. Quick. Or slow. Whichever speed you prefer.”

Ali smiles, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve been waiting to say that.”

“Resisting. But I’m glad it’s out of the way now.”

Weston comes down as Ali and I are checking our tanks and clearing our regulators.

“Perfect day,” he says. “Not every day is this clear and calm. It’s going to be the dive of a lifetime.”

Ali and I exchange a smile, anticipating the adventure. The freedom. As soon as we’re in and our masks come down, I know that for the next hour, I won’t think about Boomerang, or about getting the money I need to launch Blackwood Films.

Diving is like surfing for me, except without the rush. Underwater I’m breath and energy, nothing more. My mind empties. Time stops. But I know this won’t be like my usual dives. Even before Weston’s comment, I knew that.

We descend to forty feet and head toward the kelp forest, Ali leading. She’s true to her name, quick through the water. I push to stay with her, more aware of the dangers of diving than ever. When we reach the kelp, I’m practically her shadow, but it’s easy to get tangled in the long vines. Easy to lose sight of someone or get caught in a strong current, and I’m not taking any risks with her safety. It only takes a few minutes for my worries to fade away though.

She’s a good diver, calm and smooth, but it’s the moment she looks at me and bugs out her eyes, imitating a grouper nestled in the kelp, that makes me laugh and finally chills me out. From then on, we move without the need for words, showing each other starfish. Staring in awe at the twenty leopard sharks that fly past us. Pointing at the bright orange Garibaldi, weaving through the long strands of kelp.

We follow a ridge that parallels the island, visitors in an underwater world, but I’m on a mission. I keep an eye out along the murky edge of the cliff, where the sandy bottom is darker and shadowed from sunlight.

Finally I see one. I catch up to Ali and bring her back to the spot.

There, drifting along the bottom, is a horn shark. It’s about a foot long, tan with dark brown spots. It looks uncomfortable with all the attention it’s suddenly getting, but it stays put.

Ali looks at me, her eyes smiling. Thank you, her eyes say.

It feels so good to please her. I’ve done a lot of things for girls in the past. This, I won’t forget.

We hover there a while, watching the clunky, somewhat pathetic predator until it decides to swim away.

Ali looks at me again and I don’t look away. It’s safe, with masks and an ocean between us. Without the permanence of words. So I let myself relax. I let myself see and be seen. What I feel or want or think is all the same right now.

I like you, Ali.

I don’t want to, but I do.





Chapter 17



Alison


When Catherine and I used to dive as kids, I couldn’t wait to glide away from her in the water, to move off to my own undersea kingdom, where I could be Ariel from The Little Mermaid. I’d pretend to be born to this world of shifting light and shadow, of pulsing life that invited me to secret places. The world above seemed so noisy to me—so full of chattering conversation and rules I didn’t like. But here, I could spend hours watching schools of manta rays spread like dark kites near the surface above me. I could trail my fingers through the kelp, stare off at the far-off corona of sunshine and tell myself that if I stayed down here long enough, I’d grow a tail the way Ariel grew legs on land.