“Good. Let’s get outta here then.” He stood, unbalancing the ski for a moment, then sat facing forward. He clicked the engine on and revved.
Nothing.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
“What is it?” she asked, refusing to let a nugget of fear swell in her stomach.
“I dunno.” He glanced at the inky dark water.
“Try it again. Are you doing it right?”
“’Course I am.”
“Fuck, what is it?” Her fear was swelling.
“I think…” He stood and leaned over her, his hot chest touching her shoulder. “Something is wrapped around the driveshaft.”
“The what shaft?”
“The stem connecting the motor to the impeller.”
“And that’s bad?” She swallowed noisily, her throat suddenly tight.
“It’s not great.” He grinned. “But I can fix it.”
“How?”
“I’ll go in and pull it off.”
“Go in? In there?”
“The water, yeah. I need to.”
“But … but it’s shark soup.”
He laughed. “No, it isn’t. We haven’t seen any, have we?”
“We haven’t been looking.” Which was exactly what she was doing now. Searching the small dips and rises in the water, hunting for a menacing gray fin glinting in the sunlight. Knowing that fin would be attached to razor-sharp teeth and a hungry stomach had her heart rate picking up and her pulse thudding in her ears.
“Look.” She pointed. “A shadow, beneath the surface.”
“There is not.” He scoffed.
“I swear. Wyatt, you cannot go in there.” Her breaths were coming fast. The thought of him going into the water, the depth unfathomable, wasn’t something she could entertain.
“You wanna stay out here … forever?”
“No, and it wouldn’t be forever. Someone will give us a tow.”
“Who?” He stood up straight and gestured in an arc. “There’s no one around. We’ve got the ocean to ourselves. Well, apart from those two sail boats in the distance, but they’re heading away.”
“Can’t we wave to Sam?”
“I expect he’s having his afternoon nap.”
“Damn it.” She waved anyway. “Sam! Sam!”