Hit & Run Bride (Hit & Run Bride Contemporary Romance Series) by Nana Malone, Misty Evans Page A

Ironman, and all I could think about was the fact that I can’t blow bubbles yet. Let alone swim two miles. Did you know that I’m expected to run a freakin’ marathon too? A marathon, Van! My limit for reasonable is three miles on the treadmill with Real Housewives on the TV. Anything beyond that is for the crazies.”
    “What are you always telling me when it comes to projects? One step at a time. Have your conversation with Holden before you start worrying about the swim or the marathon. In the meantime, take your lessons with Hottie Liam. I mean, the Ironman is out of the question, but Liam might be able to get you swimming well enough to do some watersports so you can enjoy Hawaii. Focus on the thing in front of you first.”
    That meant focus on tonight...with Liam. She could definitely do that.
    * * *
    Liam was at the Club before nine-thirty. Restless, he paced the side of the pool, shaking out his arms. One gentleman swam laps, lost in the rhythm of his effortless strokes, getting in his late-night swim before the pool officially closed at ten. The cleaning crew wouldn’t be in until ten-thirty, giving Liam and Becca a solid half hour for a private lesson.
    He smiled when he thought back to their previous conversation. The smiley face. He’d never been one for cutesy shit, but with her, it worked.
    He should get in the water. Get rid of his pent up adrenaline. He had to be calm and reassuring for Becca, not wired like he was now.
    But his mom’s appointment hadn’t gone well. The cancer was being stubborn. Her doctor wanted to do radiation and another round of chemo. Anita Caldwell had stuck her proud chin in the air and said no. It was all Liam could do not to put his fist in the concrete wall. But he had to give his mother credit. She’d lived life her way, and she planned to die her way as well.
    The lone swimmer in the pool jumped out and began drying off. He nodded at Liam. “Liam, good to see you.”
    “How’s it going, Mr. Tate?”
    The owner of the Mission Sporting Goods chain stores rubbed the towel over his bald head. “Business is good. My marketing group is working on a new advertising campaign. We could use a model with your build for the print ads.”
    “I’m flattered, sir, but I sort of have my hands full at the moment.”
    As if on cue, Becca burst through the doors, hair flying in every direction, her towel dragging on the floor, and her arms filled with a pair of flippers. “Am I late? Sorry, I found a parking spot this time, but I couldn’t get in the doors. They were locked, and…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze landed on Mr. Tate.
    Tate winked at Liam. “I can see that.”
    Tate left, and Liam helped Becca arrange her stuff on a bench. “Ready to get wet?”
    Her eyes rose to his, and she nodded. “I think so. Can I wear these?” She held up the flippers.
    “You won’t need them.”
    “Are you sure? I read this blog about swimming, and they recommended flippers.”
    “How about we try blowing bubbles first?”
    “I did that last time.”
    Nothing like a challenge. “You need a little more practice.”
    “Okay, sure, fine. Bubbles. But, uhm, it’s sort of urgent that I actually learn to swim swim.”
    “How about we do sixty seconds on bubbles, then we’ll move on.”
    “Okay. A pattern, a schedule. I like patterns and schedules. What’s after bubbles? You know, so I can mentally prepare.”
    “Gliding.” At this rate, he was never going to get her in the water. He pointed at the pool. “Ready?”
    She followed him to the side. He jumped in and motioned for her to do the same. Like the previous lesson, she went to the steps and clung to the handrail as she carefully entered the water one step at a time.
    She was fired up to swim, but still feared the water. How to help her overcome that? He held out a hand, and she death-gripped it. With no one else in the pool, the calming lapping of the water was the only sound.
    “Do you give private lessons often?”