Dirty Boy by Nichole Rose

 

Chapter Three

Ella

 

"Lifeguard!"

I glance up from the almost full trash bag in my hands to see a little boy racing across the beach toward me. His bare feet kick up white sand with each step, and he's waving his arms in the air, trying to get my attention.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I ask, instantly on alert.

"There's a man who needs your help," he says, stumbling to a stop in front of me. He places his hands on his knees, panting for breath. "He's in the water."

Crap.

I quickly drop the bag and scan the shore, looking for the distressed swimmer. It's late afternoon, and the beach is mostly empty, but the few people here are all clumped together in a group, watching a man in the water about twenty feet from shore. From where I'm standing, he appears to be floating, but looks can be deceiving.

I take off toward the water, moving quickly.

Despite the heat, the clear blue water is cool when I plunge forward, wading until I'm waist-deep. As soon as I'm deep enough, I kick off from the sandy bottom, swimming hard toward the man. He's still in the same spot.

It's hard to tell but, as I get closer, he looks almost like….

No. No way. He wouldn't.

"Help," Dante calls, sinking that hope with a grin on his lips.

He can.

He would.

He is.

I'm going to drown him myself.

Slightly worried that he might actually need help, I continue toward him, moving as quickly as I can. People are always surprised by the fact that I can swim as well as I do. I guess they just assume big girls are slow. I'm not. I've been swimming my entire life, and I'm good at it. Within a matter of moments, I'm at Dante's side.

"I'm going to murder you," I growl at him once I'm sure he's not actually in distress.

"Is that any way to talk to someone who needs help?" he asks, still grinning at me.

And even though I want to strangle him, I also want to kiss that stupid smirk off his gorgeous face. When he asked me out two days ago, I almost said yes. If a volleyball hadn't come sailing past, I think I would have kissed him too.

He's asked me out twice more via text. Saying no is less difficult when he's not right in front of me, making my heart flutter and my stomach turn flips. He's texted several other times too. Usually just random thoughts. This morning, he texted to wish me luck on my first day.

My resolve is dangerously close to collapsing into nothing.

"You don't need my help."

"I do."

"I'm not dragging you back to shore, Dante."

"Come closer. I'm hung up on something."

I narrow my eyes on him, suspicious. There's nothing in the water but the rocks and sand at the bottom. And fish and dolphins and probably snakes, but we're not thinking about that.

"Hung up on what?" I ask, swimming closer.

He moves like lightning striking, his hands sinking into my hips to haul me across the few feet of water separating us. "I'm hung up on you," he growls when I'm all but pressed up against his body. His wet, partially naked body.

Oh, jeez.

"I'm so mad at you right now."

"No, you aren't."

"You're insane, you know that? You can't just fake drowning, Dante!" He's probably never worried about drowning a day in his life. Considering that he's holding both of us afloat right now without any trouble, I'm guessing he's as good a swimmer as he is a football star.

"I never said I was drowning. I said I was hung up on something," he says, smiling like he's pleased with himself. "It's still true, you know."

I growl at him, which only makes him laugh.

"Go out with me."

"No way."

"Fine."

I narrow my eyes again, suspicious at how quickly he agreed.

"Then I guess I'll be faking my drowning tomorrow and the next day and the next day…."

"You wouldn't." But I can already tell by the look on his stupid, handsome face that he's not kidding. He would absolutely show up every day and fake drowning just to get my attention. "You are completely ridiculous, you know that, right?"

"I'll be whatever you want me to be if it gets you to go out with me, baby girl," he says, his blue eyes full of sincerity. "I know you want to say yes. You're just afraid."

"No, I'm not," I lie.

"You are." He squeezes my hips. "You like me, and it's freaking you out."

"Is not. I mean, do not," I say, but it's already too late. His baby blues light up, and I know he knows he has me. "Fine. Maybe I like you a little bit. But dating you is a bad idea."

"Why?"

"Is everything okay?" someone shouts from the shore.

"Yes!" I yell back. "He's fine."

A smattering of applause sound from the beach, even though I didn't really do anything and he's not even in danger. He's just completely, ridiculously, adorably insane.

"You get to explain to them that you weren't drowning."

"They know. I told them I work for Tyson, and we were testing our new lifeguards."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"And I paid the little boy five dollars."

"I hate you," I mutter, splashing water all over him.

He laughs loudly and shakes it off. While he's distracted, I squirm out of his arms and start swimming toward shore. Within seconds, he's beside me, his body cutting through the water like a knife. Watching his muscles move to propel him forward sends my temperature soaring up fifteen degrees. I don't know much about football, but watching him, I see the appeal.

He moves with grace, like a big, powerful cat. It's fascinating. And more than a little bit sexy too.

By the time we reach shore, everyone has scattered.

I pull my hair over my shoulder, wringing water out of it. I feel Dante's eyes on me the whole time. Even though I'm in a bright red swimsuit that barely contains my boobs, I don't feel exposed with his gaze on me. I feel sexy. Wanted.

"One date," I mutter, caving like a poorly constructed sandcastle.

One date can't possibly hurt anything…right?

My stomach flutters with nerves, but Dante's broad smile settles them.

I shake my head to clear it and turn to start back down the beach. Before I even manage to take a step, Dante has his arms around me, spinning me to face him again. His mouth comes down on mine, his hands around my waist exactly like they were made to fit right there.

The second his tongue touches mine, I know I'm in serious trouble. Everything but him disappears, and I throw my arms around his neck, locking my body flush with his.

His kiss is hot enough to evaporate the water on my skin. And it's over far, far too soon.

"Fuck," he growls, ripping his mouth away from mine. His wild eyes meet mine, burning just as hot as his kiss.

I press my hand to my mouth, staring at him in shock.

"Tonight," he says.

I bob my head once, and then he's gone, jogging down the beach like he didn't just completely ruin me with that dangerous mouth of his. I stand right where I'm at, watching until he's nothing but a tiny speck in the distance. And then I smile.

I was right. He is trouble with a capital T.