Page 21 of Building Courage
She kept her tone casual. “I’m going to look her up. I’m sure she’ll have a website.” She glanced up to find him watching her. “Maybe I should change so we can get started. I’m sure you have other things planned for the rest of the day.”
“You’re my only priority today.”
There wasn’t anything flirty or suggestive in the way he said it, but pleasure tightened intimate areas down low, and her cheeks heated. “I’ll use the bathroom to change.”
Chapter 7
‡
Tucker stepped outside onto the shaded patio to wait for Brynn. He should have never said it. But for nearly a week, thoughts of her had popped into his head. And when she’d arrived, the way her eyes—the color of bourbon over ice—had studied him in a distant, reserved manner had triggered a need to rip down the polite boundaries she’d erected.
It was all about that challenge thing again. And just the distraction he needed to get the NCIS interview off his mind.
He didn’t have time for a relationship. Relationships took emotional stamina, effort, and commitment. But Brynn Barrington didn’t have relationship written all over her like most women. She had thick walls built around her that made him want to break through them and see what the real Brynn was like.
Her thick, mid-back length, pale blond hair with its butterscotch undertones shone every time she moved her head. The contrast between her fair skin and dark eyes was striking. He’d seen her bend and twist, taking photos of kids, and had a quick flash of how those long legs could twine around his body. He’d have to be dead not to be attracted.
Damn it!
He changed into his wetsuit in the garage, then retrieved his diving equipment from the storage cabinet there and set it out on the picnic table.
At the sound of the door sliding open, he turned to look over his shoulder.
He’d been right about her being built to wear a wetsuit. The black suit had aqua panels that curled around the sides of her breasts, dipped in at her waist, and flared at the hips. The design emphasized every curve of her body. As slender as she was, she had deep curves at her waist. She’d platted her hair into a tail that hung down her back. She could have modeled in front of a camera instead of standing behind one.
He took a deep breath and turned his head to look out across the yard to where the fire pit would be constructed in an effort to control his response. He moved to the picnic table where he’d placed the bag that held his gear. “I’m going to go over the basics of scuba and show you how to assemble your gear. Then we’ll get wet.”
The sudden flare of color in her cheeks captured his attention and made him smile. The attraction was there, and it was intense. Maybe her barriers weren’t so impenetrable.
He set out his gear as he normally did and waited for her to do the same. Through his training, he’d learned that the only way to learn was by doing and repetition.
Brynn proved a quick study and handled her gear with confidence, mimicking his every move as they assembled it. He held up her BCD with her oxygen tank and all her gear attached so she could slide her arms into the vest. She was quick to secure the straps to fasten it around her. She secured the octopus in the holder as he’d shown her.
“Everything feel comfortable?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m good.”
“We’re going to kick from the deep end of the pool to the shallow end and practice clearing your mask and your regulator. If the seal around your mask is broken by a brush against something, water will build up in the mask and obscure your vision.” He explained how to clear it. “If your regulator’s jerked out of your mouth, and you have to put it back in, you’ll have to clear it so you’re breathing air, not water.” He explained that process. “We’ll practice that several times. Then I’ll show you some of the basic kicks.”
Standing at the side of the pool, flippers on, mask adjusted, they inflated their BCD just a little, and he gave her one last instruction. “One major rule in scuba—don’t hold your breath. Just breathe normally.”
He pulled his mask down and put his regulator in his mouth. He gave her a thumbs-up signal, took a giant stride forward, stepped off the side of the pool, and dropped into the water.
*
Nerves drove Brynn’s heart into a quick, sharp tattoo against her ribs. She was confident on the water in a kayak and on a surfboard. She was a good swimmer. She could do this. She pulled her mask down, put her regulator in her mouth, and tasted the rubbery texture of it, something she would have to get used to. She forced herself to take two steadying breaths through the device before she stepped off the side of the pool and plunged beneath the water.
After that first moment of emersion, she realized she’d kept her eyes closed and opened them. She took a breath from her regulator and then another, the sound of the bubbles a kind of dulled rumble. The silence that enveloped her was like plunging into cotton wool. She focused on Tucker as she kicked toward him. He shot her an okay sign, and she gave him a thumbs-up. Even though all she could see of his face was his eyes, she could tell he was smiling.
He was a taskmaster. He tugged at her mask and waited for her to clear it, signaling for her to remove her regulator and clear it once it was back in her mouth. They surfaced so he could demonstrate three different kicks step by step. Then they flippered back and forth in the pool, their bodies suspended in neutral buoyancy. She found the longer she was submerged, the more the exterior things drifted away.
After nearly an hour, when they climbed out of the pool, he helped her remove her equipment and, under his direction, had her take it all apart. They carried the gear to his garage to hang in a locker until her next lesson.
After getting dressed, she wandered back out to the pool and slouched in one of the cushioned Adirondack lounges. Her muscles felt like overstretched rubber, but she was satisfied.
She couldn’t complain that Tucker wasn’t thorough. He’d packed a lot into this first lesson. He’d also warned her he’d review most of it each time she came. She was certain he’d be able to have her scuba ready long before her Australia trip. However, the photography part of the trip still worried her.
Dressed in his shorts and T-shirt again, Tucker came out of the house with two tumblers. “You need to hydrate,” he said as he handed her a glass. “Breathing compressed air sucks the moisture from your body.”