She nodded, ashamed of the weak moment. Arnaud had it so much worse and yet he was already calm, treading water even as he drew a great lungful of air deep. Bijou struck out for the ledge, looking around and peering below her, afraid all the thrashing around might have drawn an alligator to them.

The water was so slow moving it appeared stagnant and it was definitely brackish. She had the feeling that when the tide came in their tiny ledge would disappear. Crawfish and shrimp thrived, but there was no telling what kind of litter, chemicals or other things had found their way to the channel.

She concentrated on putting one arm in front of the other and pulled weakly, conscious that Arnaud had dropped behind her to make certain she made it back to the ledge. She dragged herself up, clawing at the muddy surface. Arnaud shoved her up by her butt and followed her onto the narrow strip. Both lay motionless, legs still in the water while they fought to breathe.

Bijou moved first, turning over, uncaring that she was lying in mud, pulling up her knees so unless an alligator exploded out of the water, she was relatively safe for a moment. She was freezing. Shaking. And she stank. Badly. Very, very badly. Beside her, Arnaud did the same, rolling over and pulling up his legs.

“Thanks again, Bijou.” He turned his head to look at her, confusion in his eyes. “You’re making a habit of saving my life.”

“I’m gettin’ really good at it.” She tried to make light of the moment. She huffed out her breath. “I don’ want to sound like a girl here, but I swear bugs and germs are totally crawlin’ all over my skin. They have to be in my hair too.” She squeezed her eyes closed tight. “I’m not lookin’ until I can take a long hot shower. Maybe for several hours.”

“Um, Bijou . . .” Arnaud paused. “You do sound like a girl.”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. They were alive. No alligator got them. “I stink like sewage, but then so do you—the latest in cool perfume. Thank God no one else can smell us.”

“Although we might smell like rotten meat to an alligator,” Arnaud said.

“That’s so not funny,” she said, trying not to laugh. She was afraid she might be on the edge of hysteria. “I’m freezin’.”

“So am I.” He glanced at the sky. “It’s going to be night soon.”

“Don’ you dare talk about climbin’ up that bank. I’ll push you back in myself.”

There was no sound above them other than the drone of insects. No trickle of dirt to alert them. Nothing at all, but she suddenly knew with absolute certainty they weren’t alone. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist to get his attention and put her finger to her lips signaling above them.