Jake looked at Portia’s disappearing form and then back at Xander. Disapproval danced in his gaze.
Xander stifled the urge to grind his teeth. Did they actually think he was interested in Portia? And was that really any of their business to pass judgment on his dating life? Of course they all missed Terri, but she was gone, for over a year, and that was the tragic reality.
Besides, he wanted to tell them they had it all wrong, anyway. Portia wasn’t his type. Xander didn’t know why they’d assumed she’d be the kind of woman he was interested in, and he didn’t want them to believe he hadn’t loved their daughter with his whole soul. Xander certainly didn’t want them to think she’d been so easily replaced.
The protest nearly formed against his tongue when reality jabbed him. Portia was polished, quiet, reserved... As far as types went, she shared a lot of Terri’s qualities.
But Portia had never crossed his mind. Not once. Not in passing. There was no draw to her. Not like there was to the fiery Maureen. Xander’s eyes flicked quickly to Maureen. She was helping Easton dock the boat.
Turning his attention back to his in-laws, he surveyed them, trying to anticipate the reason for this unannounced visit.
Jake and Delilah Goodwin were good people, if intrusive. They were what the news media deemed helicopter parents.
Xander had always imagined their hovering had everything to do with the circumstances of Terri’s birth. For years Delilah and Jake had tried to conceive but never could. The doctors had told them it was practically impossible for them to become pregnant. But somehow Delilah had been able to conceive and carry Terri to full term. The miracle child. Their only child.
Terri had been pampered and sheltered her whole life. They’d treated Terri like spun glass, like a fragile thing that needed protection from everything and everyone. Now having a daughter of his own, he understood the motivation and desire, but Jake and Delilah had taken hovering to its extreme.
Xander watched as Jake gave Delilah’s hand a quick squeeze. His business instincts told him the gesture was one of support. He understood that. Terri’s death had changed everything.
Delilah straightened her heirloom pearls on her neck, the only piece of jewelry that spoke to their enormous wealth. They were kind people, but they were used to dictating orders. They weren’t the compromising type.
“We heard our grandchild is ill and you’re out here. Who’s watching her?” Jack said, his voice even but stern.
“She’s napping while Elenora watches over her. Rose has an ear infection. We went to the emergency room last night and the pediatrician today.”
Laying a manicured hand to her chest, Delilah stiffened. “She could have a relative watching her.”
“She does. Her father and her uncle.” Xander kept his tone neutral, doing his best to remember that they didn’t mean to be insulting or accusatory.
“Both of whom are out partying on a boat,” Delilah continued, her voice shrill and unforgiving.
The correction was gentle but necessary. He wished Terri was here to help him navigate this. “Working.”
“Okay, then. Working. She could have her grandmother all day.”
“I’m appreciative of your offer to help. Who told you about the ear infection?”
Delilah waved her hand dismissively. “Someone on the staff when I phoned to say hello.”
To check up, more likely. His in-laws made no secret of the fact that they wanted custody of Rose. He would feel a lot more comfortable welcoming them for visits if they weren’t taking notes and plotting the whole damn time.
He ground his teeth and tried to be as reasonable as possible. He didn’t want to upset his daughter’s world by having her taken from her own father. “Rose will be awake in about an hour. If you would like to stay for lunch, you can play with her when she wakes.”
He glanced over his shoulder, checking on his brother and Maureen. Easton was tying the boat off along the dock while Maureen gathered up the samples. But that wasn’t what caught Xander’s eye. A massive gator swam in the dock area and bumped into the boat. The low-slung boat was tipped off balance and his eyes darted to Maureen, who was leaning over the railing.
Water swirled around Maureen as she plummeted into the murky bay off the side of the boat.
Swimming had never been an issue for her. In Ireland, her childhood adventures had often unfolded in rivers and lakes. The water called to her. When she was young, she’d hold her breath and dive in undaunted. She’d even told her parents she was searching for kelpie—mythical Irish water horses. They were dangerous creatures of legend—sometimes drowning mortals for sport. At eight, Maureen was convinced that she could find kelpie and clear up the misconception. Her inclination to help and heal ran deep, to her core.
But here, in the swampy waters of Key Largo, there was no mythical creature that might whisk her to the bottom and drown her. No, in this water, an alligator slinked by. An animal that actually had the capacity to knock life from her lungs.
She tread water, schooling her breathing into calm inhales and exhales. Or at least, this was the attempt she was making. Boggy, slimy weeds locked around her ankle, twisting her into underwater shackles.
Adrenaline pushed into her veins, her heart palpitating as she tried to force a degree of rigidity into her so-far-erratic movements.
From her memory depths, she recalled a time not unlike this one. She’d been swimming in Lake Michigan after her parents had relocated to Michigan. She’d been caught in weeds then, too, but her father had been there to untangle her. And that lake had lacked primitive dinosaur-like predators, which had made the Lake Michigan moment decidedly less dramatic.
Eyes flashing upward, she caught the panic flooding Xander’s face.
Ready to help her.
The weeds encircling her ankle pulled against her. Damn. How’d she managed to become so ensnared so quickly? The pulse of the tide slashed into her ears, pushing her against the boat.
A loss of control kicked into her stomach. She heard vague shouting. Easton? Maybe. His voice seemed far away.
The grip on her ankle pulled taut, forcing her below the surface. The more she tried to tread water, to grab hold of the boat, the more she was pulled down. A new sort of tightness tap-danced on her chest. A mouthful of salt water belabored her breathing.
A vague sense of sound broke through her disorientation. Xander’s voice. That steadying baritone. “Maureen, I’m coming!”
Words drifted to her like stray pieces of wood. Her salt-stung vision revealed Xander’s muscled form coming toward her. She made out the people behind him—his in-laws. Even from here, blurry vision and all, she read the concern in their clasped forms.
In an instant Xander was there, face contorted in worry. With an arm, he stabilized her against the boat. Air flooded her lungs again.
“I’m okay. I can swim. I just need to get my foot untangled from the undergrowth.”
“Roger.” He started to dive.
She grasped his arm. “Be careful of the—”
His gaze moved off to the side where the gator lingered with scaly skin and beady eyes. “I see. And the sooner we get out of here the better.”
He disappeared underwater, a trail of small bubbles the only trace of him. Sinking fear rendered a palatable thrum in her chest—a war drum of anxiety. The gator disappeared under water.
Time