Beside him, Rusty yanked his mask down around his neck. “The important thing is that you’re all right,” he said soothingly, waving to his driver to pick them up. “Let’s get on the boat and I will explain.” The driver spun the boat in a semicircle and then backed up toward them, expertly placing the ladder within Alex’s reach. He grabbed on to it and heaved himself out of the ocean, feeling water gush down his legs as his wet suit drained. Four pairs of eyes—those of his fellow divers, comfortably seated on the benches—turned to look at him as he stumbled on deck. Great. Now he had an audience, as if he didn’t feel stupid enough. And he knew very well how he’d just sounded—like one of those pompous assholes that Alex himself hated, the ones who tried to blame everyone else for their failings. Still breathing heavily with exertion and adrenaline, Alex sat down on the bench and leaned his head forward with his elbows on his knees, trying to get himself together.
Rusty dropped down beside him. “Another diver got caught in fishing line, so I had to stop and cut him out. It happens sometimes.” When Alex didn’t respond, Rusty calmly went on. “You swam away from your buddy. Your belt slipping off was a piece of bad luck. I came for you as soon as I realized you were missing, but thankfully someone else got to you first.”
Alex shook his head with his eyes focused between his feet. He still didn’t understand what the hell he’d been thinking. He remembered gazing out at the sinkhole from the reef, and then an overwhelmingly optimistic feeling bubbling up in his chest. He would do more than get over his fear, he remembered thinking—he’d fucking obliterate it. And then he’d started swimming toward the sinkhole like he was under some goddamn spell or something. To say he was furious with himself was an understatement. He’d thought he could handle this, could conquer his lifelong fear, and instead he’d only succeeded in making it worse than ever.
“Nitrogen narcosis,” called out a female voice from behind him. “At least I’m pretty sure that’s what it was. Did you feel giddy and invincible?”
That voice—it was vaguely familiar. Alex lifted his head and slowly turned it to see a woman standing on the other dive boat, bobbing up and down with the waves in an opposing motion to his craft.
No.
It was her. Looking completely different from this morning—wet hair askance, a red rim around her eyes where her mask had imprinted on her now-pale skin, but those aqua irises—he could see them all the way from where he sat. There was no mistaking it: the goddess he had encountered on the road this morning, the hottest woman he’d laid eyes on since forever, was his rescuer.
Alex’s pulse kicked into high gear, making his ears ring. Now he truly wanted to die of humiliation. Everyone on both boats was staring at him now, including another large, protective-looking instructor at the woman’s side. As Alex looked at them, his memory of the recent events fell away, leaving only an intense visceral feeling in his body that was all too familiar. He felt the warm gush of water rushing out of his mouth, saw the crowd of kids staring at him, and his father’s furious face as he strode toward him. And then later—the sharp sting of his father’s slap across his five-year-old cheek. His father, the person who was supposed to care about him, had only enforced to Alex how badly he’d messed up.
Alex’s hands curled into fists on his thighs. He’d learned about nitrogen narcosis in his scuba lessons, but his understanding was that it only happened at depths below a hundred feet. Was she trying to help him save face? Or making fun of him? He knew he owed her his thanks for saving his life, but with his emotions running riot, he feared doing so might reduce him to tears. So instead, he jumped up and strode to the end of his boat, getting as far away from his rescuer as possible.
* * *
“Whoa,” Kiki said to Nicola as she watched her friend down her second tequila shot in five minutes. “That bad, huh?”
“That bad,” Nicola confirmed, sliding her glass across the bar for a refill.
“Care to talk about it?”
Nicola shrugged. “What can I say? I saved some Z-list celebrity today—risking my own life while I was at it, I might add—and he doesn’t even have the decency to thank me. I mean, sure, it’s part of my job description, but really? The way he was looking at me, it was like the whole thing was all my fault or something.”
Hands on her hips, Kiki shook her head in disbelief. It was one of the many things Nicola loved about her roommate—that she could always count on Kiki for a big validating reaction to her stories. “Jesus. Where does someone even get off?”
“I know, right?” Nicola said, lifting her third shot to her lips. “Maybe it’s a Moretta thing.” She threw the tequila back with a quick toss of her head, and then clunked her glass down on the counter. “Like as in, maybe I’m just not cut out for this place.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Kiki said, slinging her dish towel over her shoulder and leaning her elbows onto the bar to get in her friend’s face. Her pretty green eyes narrowed at Nicola. “You’ve only been here for four months. It’s been good for you. You are not bailing on this like...” She stopped.
“Like I usually do? It’s okay, Kiki, I know.”
“Okay. Good,” Kiki said, plucking a wineglass from the rack above her to fill an order.
Nicola watched her friend, thinking how grateful she was to have her in her life. When Nicola first came to Moretta, it hadn’t been with the intention of staying here. After she’d been fired, she’d known exactly who to call in a fit of tears. Kiki had convinced her that a break from it all would do her good, so Nicola had packed a suitcase and flown to Moretta the following week. It wasn’t hard to fall in love with the place, and when she’d gone for a dive and mentioned to Rusty that she was an instructor herself, everything had started falling into place. Kiki needed a roommate, Nicola needed a place away from the spotlight where she could regain her sanity and still earn a living, and they both needed a friend. A few phone calls back to LA was all it took to wrap up her life there. She’d been sharing an apartment with a colleague back at home, and as luck would have it, her colleague had recently started making noise about wanting her boyfriend to move in. Whether her roommate was sincere or just using it as an excuse to kick Nicola out after the scandal, she wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter—Nicola asked her to put the remainder of her clothing and few personal items into storage, which she’d happily done. Nicola tried not to think too hard about the fact that it had taken less than a day to put an end to a ten-year chapter of her life, because something about it was downright depressing.
Nicola watched Kiki’s eyes following someone behind her. “Dev Stone just walked in,” Kiki said under her breath. “Just another day at the office.”
Nicola could have cared less, but she caught a glimpse of him in the reflection of the bar’s mirror all the same. Hair raked back, careless swagger, a gaggle of groupies in tow. Vomit-inducing. She was just about to say so when she caught sight of another face among the entourage: the diver she’d rescued.
Nicola groaned. This island was much too small, and the scene was so fucking typical that it made her stomach turn. “Don’t look now, but it’s Mr. Z-lister himself,” Nicola told Kiki. “I guess we’ve unearthed whose star he’s hitched his ride to. I have to get out of here.” She slid a twenty across the counter and stood up.
“Total asshole,” Kiki agreed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Never mind that he’s a hot asshole.”
Nicola rolled her eyes, but