The relative solitude he left her in on her corner of the deck was anything but peaceful.
Hours later, Cooper was as stretched out at the bow of the boat as he could be, on a long, curved bench seat. The height of the cabin and bridge provided a patch of shade and minimal relief from the sun’s powerful beams, but he was still downing cold liquids — he’d switched to water after a single beer — one right after another.
His position not only afforded him one of the only places on the deck to really recline but he also had a perfect view of Zoe. Covertly, of course, because she’d made it clear she was not in the mood for him. Convincing Penn to bring him along had been a bad idea, but now he was stuck for another few hours.
Sharks had so far eluded their group, but they’d caught enough fish to feed the town of San Amaro for a weekend. Big, ugly things. Penn had the biggest so far, a thirty-pounder that had fought him for a good half hour as he brought it in. His bull-headed friend had done it without Cooper’s help, insisting that his back was fine, so Cooper hadn’t done much of anything all day except piss off Zoe.
He was debating letting his eyes close for a few when he noticed Zoe sway and then sit down hard. Fairly certain the boat had remained steady and hadn’t caused it, Cooper sat up, his eyes openly trained on her now, sensing something was off. Her back was to him, though, and he couldn’t tell jack from here.
Cooper stood and casually stretched his arms over his head as he watched. She rolled her half-empty water bottle across her forehead and then, fishing pole braced between her knees, she dropped her forehead to her hand. Just hot or something more?
Before he could act, she grabbed her pole with both hands and stood. The end of the pole curved under the weight of something pulling on the other end. Judging by the bend and the way Zoe braced her feet, she had something sizable — and strong. Shark?
Forgetting the possibility that she didn’t feel well and the certainty that she didn’t want his help, Cooper made his way to her corner of the deck. She didn’t spare him a look, her full concentration on holding on to the rod. Every few seconds, she was able to reel the line in a bit, and then whatever was below would send a message that it wasn’t going down easily.
“Feisty one,” he said, knowing better than to utter the words if you need help, I’m here.
Her eyes determined and not leaving the U at the end of her pole, she said, “It’s my shark. I can tell.”
She struggled to hold her own, then when the thing let up a little, she reeled in some slack on the line. Then she collapsed back on the seat with a gasp. “Cooper.”
He took the rod she held toward him and trained his eyes on her.
“Shark!” she said, sounding panicked. “Please. Don’t let it get away.”
“Zoe, what’s wrong?” he asked, doing his best to not lose ground with the fish while he assessed her state. Her face had lost all color, and sweat dotted her forehead. “Dizzy?”
In reply, she lowered her head between her knees.
“Gully!” Cooper hollered. “I think she’s feeling faint.”
Instead of Gully, Adam was by Zoe’s side in a flash.
“I’ll get her if you take this,” Cooper said, thrusting the pole in Don Juan’s direction.
“Cooper, please,” Zoe pleaded, head still buried. “Get my shark.”
“I’ll take her inside,” Adam said. “She needs water and to get out of the sun.”
Zoe’s mom crowded in on the other side of Zoe as Adam picked her up, and Cooper gritted his teeth, stuck with the damn shark.
“Deep breaths, sweetie,” Mrs. Griffin said.
Within ten seconds, Cooper and Penn were alone on the deck, and the silence exploded in Cooper’s ears. And then the shark, or whatever it was, asserted itself again, and Cooper’s attention was one hundred percent back on the pole as he pushed Zoe’s rejection out of his head. If she wanted him to catch this damn thing, he’d catch it.
6
Zoe sensed someone staring at her, so she opened her eyes.
Cooper. Of course.
She tried to summon some annoyance, but she was worn down. Tired of working so hard to be on guard around him.
Those eyes … she could see his worry in them. Worry and so much more. When they’d first gotten involved, he’d been so guarded. Reluctant to let himself care too much. She’d grown to understand him, to grasp the reasons he was like that, and he’d grown to be able to show her he loved her. To tell her, even, which she suspected had been harder still for him.
That love was there now, in his eyes, in his mannerisms as he stepped up to the side of the boat cabin’s couch-like bench that was more comfortable than it looked.
“Zoe.” His voice was rough around the edges. “You okay?”
