I feel a hand on my back and I jump, startled by the touch. Sensitive to everything. The movement is too sudden and I lose my balance on the edge of the dock.

The shock of cold water hits my body. I flail, sucking in water, my lungs and nose and throat burning with the invasion.

Then something pins me and I struggle against it. Kicking and pushing. Panic screaming like a banshee inside my brain.

My head clears the surface of the water and I sputter. Everything inside me is on fire. I cough and struggle for oxygen. I fight the restraint holding me. Still, the arms around me don’t let go.

Leo carries me out of the water and places me on the grass. I turn my head and cough water until my lungs cry relief.

“Harper. Are you OK?” Leo’s hair lies plastered to his head and water runs in rivulets down his cheeks and eyelashes.

I shake my head no, but I mean yes. But I’m not okay. I’ll never be okay without him.

He rubs his hand over his face. “The water’s not deep. Only twelve feet or so. You just went down so fast. Fuck. You sunk like a rock.”

“I got scared. I can’t swim.” I give him the tiniest of smiles. Not that the fact is relevant at this point as I lie half-drowned on the grass in my drenched clothes. Or maybe it is. Maybe I’ve always fallen in too deep because I don’t think ahead.

He draws in a deep breath and sweeps pieces of hair from my eyes. His hand shakes and he laughs nervously. “I wasn’t going to let you drown, babe.”

Babe. I don’t think he even realizes he’s said it. “I’m OK,” I say and attempt to sit.

I stare into his eyes, the color of skies and water and serenity. A place where I could find myself again. My instincts tell me that he loves hard and true. That he puts a lot of thought into giving his heart to someone. But I’ve lost my chance to be the person he wants.

After several minutes, Leo grabs my hand and pulls me up. “Come on.” His gruff voice cuts into my melancholy.

Maybe he’s read my thoughts and regrets that we can’t start over.

I’m wobbly and shaken, but not hurt. We walk to the boathouse and Leo has me sit in a lawn chair that he finds inside. “Don’t fall out of this.”

“Ha ha. I’ll try.” But I’m far from the water and still trembling. My clothes stick to my skin like a wetsuit.

I’d worn a white T-shirt and thin, tan cotton shorts. Now, both reveal my bra and panties as if I have nothing on over them.

Leo’s heated gaze ignites shivers along my body. I press my knees together and look away.

“The boards of the dock are too hot to lie on. I’ll find a blanket and we can get some sun. It’ll dry your clothes.”

He disappears inside the boathouse and returns with a large blanket that he spreads on the grass. “Take your clothes off.”

“Excuse me?” I suck in air and hope he can’t read my mind. A thousand hot images of us together flash through my head.

“Not everything. Strip down to your—” He motions toward me with his hand and seems hesitant. “Down to your panties and bra. I’ll put those on the dock and we can sunbathe until they dry.”

“No.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s not as if you’ll be naked. They’ll dry faster off and we can enjoy the sun. I brought SPF 30 sunscreen and forgot about it. If that’s what you’re worried about…”

As if that is my main concern. A sunburn.

“What about your clothes?”

“What about them?” He pulls off his shirt. Warm, golden skin greets me and a happy trail of blond hair leads like an arrow to a place now off-limits to me.

My mouth goes dry.

“Shorts. Your shorts are wet, too.” The devil made me say it.

He actually squirms. Leo places his hands on his hips and looks down, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think it’s a good idea if we both get naked.”

“That’s what I thought. You must not think we can just be friends.”

His brow creases. “What’s that mean?”

“Two things. You think it’s OK for me to be exposed, but you’re going to keep your goods all covered up. And you are afraid you won’t be able to control yourself.”

Leo grins. “You sure are sassy today.” He pulls his cargo shorts down and stands in black briefs. Skimpy black briefs.

Not-enough-left-to-the-imagination briefs.

My heart does a catapult into my mouth, curving my lips into a spontaneous smile. No chickening out now. He thinks we can only be friends?

I shimmy out of my wet shorts and drape them over the chair. Then comes my shirt. The warmth of Leo’s hot gaze is hotter than the sun. I catch him looking, and he looks embarrassed.

I wring water from my hair with one hand and walk to the blanket.

Leo stays on his side of the blanket and sprays sunscreen on his face and chest. I spray myself, even though I’m tempted to ask him to do it. We lie side by side on the blanket, our bodies not touching but painfully aware of each other.

Today hasn’t been so bad, aside from nearly drowning. Happy birthday to me.

17

Catch-22

Leo

I lie on the blanket beside Harper and listen to her steady breathing. The sun should make me sleepy, but it doesn’t. I keep seeing the moment her head disappeared underneath the water. My chest tightens painfully.

What if the water had been deeper? What if she’d been alone? What if by some freak of nature accident I’d lost a grip on her?

I allow my arm to brush against hers. The touch assures me. She’s still here. Alive. First the semi hits her, now this. My stomach twists, and I remember feeling like this another time.

I’ll never forget the death notification visit about Mom and Dad. At least the company sent a person instead of a phone call. Weeks later, I did research afterward, as would any writer worthy of his word processor. There’s only one plane crash for every 1.2 million flights a year. One in a million chance that I’d lose the people I love.

It’s a much higher chance that the person I love will be unfaithful. I did research on that one as well. Estimated 30 to 60 percent of married people commit infidelity.

And if that person isn’t honest from the beginning, what are my odds then?

There are too many variables that say my luck is precarious when it comes to Harper.

I turn my head to the side and study her. We’ve only been in the sunshine for half an hour, but she’s dry and I am, too. Still, I can’t bring myself to wake her.

A butterfly lands on the swell of her breast, opening and closing its wings in a colorful display. She wrinkles her nose and her eyelids flutter open.

I shut my eyes.

“Hey,” she says, her voice croaky from sleep. “Are you awake?”

“Hm?” I pretend to wake and lean up on one elbow. “I am now.”

“I think I’m getting too much sun.” She pulls the fabric of her bra away to see the pink tan line.

I quickly look away. She’s killing me. Slowly. “We should go. I need to get back to do some things anyway.”

By the time we leave the lake to head back home, I’m exhausted from the effort of keeping my gaze and hands to myself. Harper’s a mess with her tangled hair, wrinkled clothes, and sunburned nose. Absolutely gorgeous.

It’s all I can do to stay focused on the road. I put the cruise control on and glance over at her again.

“I saw you staring at me when you thought I wasn’t looking.” Harper appears to be napping and you wouldn’t even know she’d said anything. Her head rolls my direction her lips curve into a smile.

“You want to know the truth?” I click the car blinker once and change lanes.