Say You'll Remember Me(10)

“I have to get it,” I said, standing.

It was at least six feet down.

It sat there on the sandy bottom, staring up at me still lit with the call notification and fish swimming around it.

I was going all the way in. Hair, makeup, dress—everything was getting wet. This fabric was probably see-through. Didn’t matter. I needed the phone.

I started to take off my sandals, resigned to my fate.

“Don’t,” Xavier said next to me. “I’ll get it.”

I looked over and he was already unbuttoning his shirt.

“I… no, you’ll be soaked.”

“It’s fine,” he said in an end of discussion tone.

Then he peeled off his shirt and my eyeballs dropped to his chest and exploded out of my head.

Holy SHIT.

This man was sculpted.

It was like one of those cologne commercials where everything’s in slow-motion black and white. I stood there wide-eyed while he finished undressing, oblivious to his shock factor.

He took his phone and wallet out of his pocket, put them in his shoe. I got a glimpse of an equally muscled back when he bent down. Someone whistled from the direction of the yacht and he shot an annoyed glance to the bow. Then he jumped in.

I don’t think I could have been any more turned on than if this man was saving my baby.

He came up a second later with my phone in his hand and cheers came from the boat.

“Thank you so much,” I said, on my knees. “You have no idea.”

He handed it to me. “You’re welcome. I hope it’s waterproof.”

“It is.”

He nodded back to the shore. “I can’t get back up from here, it’s too high, I have to swim out.”

I ran to the boat to ask for a towel while he made his way to the beach. The bar staff gave me four clean rags and I sprinted back to meet him as he climbed out of the lake.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the towels.

“Do you want to go home and change?” I asked.

He shook his head, wiping down his magnificent chest. “No, we’ll miss the cruise.”

“But your shorts are soaking.”

“It’s okay. It’s no different than sitting around in wet swim trunks. I’ll dry.”

I slumped. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “It was an accident.”

“Looking good, Dr. Rush!” a woman’s voice called from the yacht behind me followed by a group of female giggles.

He didn’t look amused.

The man was literally glistening. His hair was tousled, he was tan.

I crossed my arms. “Okay, but can you blame them, though?” I said. “You’re out here on this beach looking like paparazzi photos of Chris Hemsworth.”

He snorted.

“How much do you work out?” I asked.

“Enough. I need to be able to carry any sized dog.”

“Of course.” I tilted my head. “What if this was just me trying to get your shirt off?”

“You could have done less.”

I laughed. This man was so unintentionally funny.

I let out a deep breath. “My mom is sick,” I said. “That was my sister calling. That was really nice of you to get my phone.”

“Did you call her back?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

He nodded at my purse. “Call her.”

He left me on the beach to grab his clothes on the dock and I stood in the sand dialing Jeneva.

“Hey, what’s up?” I said when she answered.

“Nothing. Just checking to see if you need an emergency Get Out of Date call.”

I scoffed. “No, definitely not. I just saw him half naked.”

“Ooooh! What was that like?”

I glanced over my shoulder at him while he buttoned up his shirt. “It’s giving Greek god vibes,” I said. “I have to go.”

“Have fuuuuun.”

I hung up and met Xavier mid-dock. He was fully clothed now. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Fine. False alarm.”

“Good. Shall we?” He motioned for me to go first.

There were two floors—an upper cabin with an enclosed restaurant-style seating area and an outside deck with tables and chairs. Downstairs had another dining room with more booths, a cherrywood bar, and a buffet. There were volunteers stationed around the boat with rescue dogs you could pet.

He knew all the dogs’ names.

Passengers were still arriving, so Xavier took me to the bar to get a drink. He ordered us the signature cocktail. A salty dog. He ordered his as a mocktail.

“You don’t drink?” I asked, leaning on the bar.

“No.”

“Why? Are you sober?”

“I don’t like the feeling of being out of control. Also, I’m driving you.”

Okay. I liked that. “Do you think they’ll all get adopted?” I asked, watching a shaggy mixed breed parade by on a leash.

He shook his head. “No. Most of them won’t, not here. This is mostly for fundraising.”

I peered around the room. “Were you already coming to this tonight?”

“I was.”

“And you didn’t have a date?”