The guide shouted something that was snatched away by the wind. Max straightened and gave him a thumbs-up and a big grin as he shouted something back, but she caught the way his mouth twitched to a frown when he crouched down and tapped on one of the tank dials. Was something wrong?
Chloe glanced at the other two. Elliott wasn’t paying any attention. He was watching Jenn from the corner of his eye, and Jenn was too busy staring out at the waves and pretending not to see Elliott.
The frown remained on Max’s face. He peered closer and eased a knob open in a slow circle. What if there was something wrong? What if there was a tragic accident and things went bad down there? Chloe pictured her face splashed all over cable. On every magazine cover and Web site. She’d die in the prime of the scandal, and no one would ever remember her for anything else. She’d be Chloe the Bridezilla for eternity.
She jumped up and rushed across the boat.
“Hey!” she said breathlessly. “Is everything okay?”
When Max raised his face, he was wearing a blinding smile. “Sure, everything’s great!”
“Why were you frowning?”
“What?”
“You were frowning. At that tank.”
He stood and wiped his hands. “Just concentrating, I guess. The tanks look good.” He moved his hand toward a clipboard tucked into a pocket of the boat. “He keeps good records.” When he glanced down at the board, the frown flitted across his face again before he replaced it with a smile.
Chloe grabbed his wrist. “Listen. The lesson in the pool today was fun. And I wanted to have a tiny adventure out on the sea, but I don’t want to go this way, okay? I don’t want to be on the news and on the… Sorry, I don’t mean to freak out. It’s just…”
She took a deep breath and tried to channel Island Chloe. This was Max’s job. Something as easy as pie for him. It wouldn’t be cool to hyperventilate and pass out in a puddle of urine or something. “Chloe—”
“Whew,” she said with a laugh. “Sorry. Being surrounded by all this water makes me feel insignificant. And fragile. But you know what you’re
doing, so just tell me that this guy is okay, all right? I’ll be fine.”
He wrapped his free hand around the fingers clutching his wrist in a death grip. “Diving is inherently risky. Things can go wrong. But I talked to the guide about the dive this morning while you were finishing your lesson. We decided to do an easy dive—only thirty-five feet down. The wreck is wide open on the sea floor, so there aren’t any spaces to get caught in. And I wouldn’t let you near that water if the equipment wasn’t safe. Okay?”
“Okay.” Her fingers didn’t loosen, despite the warmth of his hand on top of hers.
“I don’t recommend finding a dive guide at the grocery store, but you lucked out.”
“Okay,” she said again. Her hand didn’t relax, but she purposefully flexed her fingers. No panic attack. Not this time. She’d only had one actually, but the idea of having another was enough on its own to spiral her close to an attack. Evil, vicious circle.
Max’s hand let go of hers and rose up to cup her chin. Warmth edged over her jaw and calmed her down. “Hey, we’ll stick together, okay? I could do this in my sleep. But—” he said hastily as Chloe opened her mouth to protest “—I won’t.”
“Ha.”
His hand slipped away, fingers trailing down her throat so briefly that she couldn’t tell if it had been an accidental touch. His smile disappeared. “Or you could just change your mind.”
When the boat hit a wave and bounced beneath her, Chloe let go of Max and reached for the railing to catch herself. Max didn’t even budge. He was like a pirate, accustomed to life on the high seas, impervious to waves and sea spray and unstable footing. She wished his faded blue tee was an open-collared shirt that could whip around in the wind and reveal his chest.
The roar of the motor dropped down to a low grumble and the boat slowed. “Almost there!” the guide shouted.
Chloe set her shoulders and forced a smile. “I’ll be fine. Jenn’s really excited. And so was I until that little freak-out. It’ll be fun. It must be like a whole other planet down there.”
His eyes crinkled. “That’s exactly what it is. Want some help getting your wet suit on?”
“Do you ask all the girls that?”
“It’s my job.”
“Oh, really?”
He tipped his head in concession. “Almost.”
Chloe said, “I think I can handle it on my own,” as she sauntered off. Or as close to sauntering as she could manage as the motor died and the boat began to rock in the gentle waves. She gave up when her thigh slammed into the railing, and took the last two steps just hoping that Max wasn’t watching.