No Gentle Giant (A Small Town Romance)

Checking the wrist seals, I pull my jeans and flannel shirt back on over the whole thing for now and sling the dive kit with my backup oxygen tank and mask over one shoulder.

“C’mon,” I say, smoothing my thick hair against my head as much as I can. “Let’s roll.”

There’s a comfy tandem in the way we move together to haul the rest of my backup gear onto the boat before pushing off from shore.

Feels like we’ve known each other for years, instead of just noticed each other in passing for months before settling into this odd...friendship? Is that what this is?

Despite her skittishness, she puts me at ease when I’m around her.

Makes me feel calm. Settled. Focused when my eyes aren’t stuck to her.

Glass Lake is pretty big, but the pontoon boat skips lightly over its surface and carries us to the coordinates from her dad’s logbook.

We track them down with precision using the boat’s onboard navigation.

Felicity idles our ride to a halt over the spot, and I lean my arms on the side rail, peering down through the clear water.

Still, even eerily translucent water becomes inky shadows at a certain depth.

Strain as I might, I can’t see the bottom—but I can see subtle differences in the shapes and outlines of the shadows. I think I can make out something darker against the bottom.

Something with a more regular—possibly man-made—shape versus whatever rocks and waterlogged deadwood might be at a freshwater lake bed.

“There’s definitely something down there,” I say.

She joins me at my side, frowning, leaning over the edge so far I want to catch her by the scruff of her coat and pull her back. “It could be anything. Driftwood. Rocks. Trash.”

“The fact that it’s right where your dad put down his coordinates says otherwise.” I shrug out of my shirt. I’m too hot in the wetsuit underneath, but that’ll change pretty fast. “I’m gonna head down and take some photos of whatever I find.”

“I feel like I should be doing this. Not you.” Felicity straightens with a troubled look.

“Do you have scuba gear?”

“No?”

“Experience diving in forty-degree water?” I ask.

“...no.” She offers me a sheepish smile. “I get it. I’d just be in the way.”

“Nah, you’re not in the way. Period.” I can’t resist.

Part of me wants to pull her in, kiss her forehead, hold her till that subtle tremble in her body eases and I feel her go soft against me.

We’re not like that, though. Not yet.

So I settle for resting a hand to the top of her head, ruffling her hair, and regretting the fact that I can’t feel a single damned thing through my rubbery gloves.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe, Fliss. I know I’m making this sound like a pleasure snorkel, but I’m going deep and water this cold gets hazardous. It’s easy for me and I don’t want to risk you down there. Don’t even think about feeling guilty over it.”

She peeks up at me from under the shadow of my hand.

She’s holding so still, like a feral cat who wants to push into a gentle touch but isn’t sure if she should.

“You’re a good guy, you know that?”

“Yeah. Just don’t tell the rest of the town.” I smile, letting my hand fall away. “I was just starting to enjoy Holt’s reputation rubbing off on me. Alaska Charter, heartbreaking bastard, enigma, and dastardly ladies’ man.”

Felicity tilts her head, squinting one eye.

“Yeah, no. I don’t see it.”

“Thanks,” I snort.

Stepping back from her, I slide my jeans down my legs and kick off my boots, then heft my kit to my back before strapping on the oxygen tank, my goggles, and my mouthpiece under my chin.

“Be back in no less than thirty. Start the timer. It’s not that deep a dive, but just to be safe I’m gonna take it slow. Don’t start worryin’ unless I’m gone longer than forty-five minutes.” I clip a waterproof camera to my belt and strap a handheld palm light over my knuckles, then sit on the rail, backing out into the water. “Wish me luck.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Good luck!”

I just grin.

Fit my mouthpiece on.

And flop backward, plunging into the water.

It’s been a long time since my last dive, but this always feels like coming home.

The rush of frigid water against my face and neck, swarming like stinging hornets through the suit.

The water’s pressure on my body.

The streams of displaced air bubbles frothing around me, shimmering only to fade away as I sink deeper, and the world grows farther and farther away through the misty, wavering lens of the surface above.

The water really is so clear and gorgeous it’s like looking through clear sea glass.

The sun. The sky. The underside of the boat.

And Felicity, her hands gripping the railing tight as she looks over the side at me, her lips moving soundlessly and saying something that looks like “Come back safe.”