He’d asked her to let him know when she was going swimming. He couldn’t compel her to, he’d explained—as she had pointed out, technically she was swimming at her own risk—but he thought someone should know when she was there. “I’m not going to tell anyone,” he’d said, anticipating her objection. “But if I know you’re going, I’ll check in with you later to make sure you’re not dead. Give me that much? I’m the chief of police—it’s basically my job.”

She’d agreed, but only to get him off her back.

So she would text him, and he would show up. Stand there on the shore while she did her try-but-not floating thing. If he had to leave before she was done—he was often on duty—he would extract a promise that she would text him when she was finished. She had to grudgingly admit that there was some logic to his thinking.

Today, when she got to the cove, he was waiting. And he was not on duty, judging by the fact that he was sitting on a beach towel and wearing swim trunks.

Oh no. She wasn’t prepared for this. He hadn’t gotten in the water with her since that first time.

He sprang to his feet when he caught sight of her. “All right, let’s do this.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you standing there and willing yourself to float isn’t going to work. It’s almost October. It’s going to be too cold to swim soon.”

“So, what? You’re going to will me to float?”

“Forget floating.” He strode to the edge of the water and gestured for her to follow.

“Ow.” She stepped gingerly when she got to the pebbled stretch. She kept meaning to pick up a pair of water shoes. “My city girl feet aren’t toughened up yet.”

Wordlessly he picked her up and started walking. She opened her mouth to object, but nothing came out. She’d been noticing how her mouth often said things around Sawyer that her brain did not want her to say.

She seemed to be having the opposite problem right now.

It was just that his arms felt so good. Familiar. Comfortable.

Instead of setting her down once they cleared the pebbled part of the beach, he kept going.

Stop. Put me down, her brain said.

Her mouth stayed closed.

He did eventually put her down, but not until they were deep enough that the water was up to her belly button.

“Okay,” he said gruffly. He was all business. “Do this.” He lifted his arms out of the water and made a motion like a breaststroke, but a really fast one. He looked like a cartoon dude trying to take flight.

Laughing, she followed suit.