Silent Hearts (Hamilton Stables 3) by Melissa West Page A

lesson?”
    “Yes, Mr. Sarcastic. I can do this.”
    Nick bit his lip and went to work on the side of her car, then resigned that he really couldn’t let her go into a giant ocean with some half-assed instructor who knew shit about diving, he said, “I’ll take the lessons with you. Are they on Saturdays, then? Six weeks or something?”
    “Yes, but no, you’re not. You’re already certified.”
    He shrugged. He and his brothers were all certified when they were teens, back when their father used to take them on dive trips and they used to act like a real family, instead of whatever disjointed bunch they were now. “So? They don’t have to know that.”
    “You’ll start interjecting Nickisms.”
    “What the hell is a Nickism?”
    Walking around to the other side of the car, Becca bent down to scrub the tires with the same wash glove she’d used on the car. Nick cringed, but he knew better than to correct her, especially when he had new territory to cover and the last thing he wanted to do was piss her off to the point that she really wouldn’t let him join in the lessons.
    “I’m waiting here.”
    The sun had turned hot overhead, September proving every bit as hot as August, and Nick wondered if they were in for another overly warm fall. That would change things a bit for the fall festival, and he made a mental note to talk to Trip about it because he was on the board of trustees for Triple Run.
    If he started talking to his brother again.
    Becca stopped in front of him. “You know, that know-it-all thing you do. Whatever it is, you know something about it. There’s no way you can sit in a class, listen to some ‘half ass’ teach without you interjecting.”
    Crossing his arms, Nick plucked the wash glove from her hands just as she started to press it back to the car. “You just washed the tires with that thing. You can’t touch the paint with it now.”
    “Why?”
    “It’ll scratch it.”
    Becca pointed at him. “See? That right there. A Nickism in the wild, ladies and gentlemen.” She turned, her arms out, and then directed at him like he was part of a circus act. “You can’t do anything without spewing Nickisms all over it.”
    “You know, that sounds a little dirty. What kind of Nickisms are we talking about here?”
    She rolled her eyes and he tried to feign seriousness. “I take offense. I can sit in a class and keep my mouth shut.”
    “Fine; prove it. You can go to the class today, but if you issue even one Nickism, you’re out of there.”
    Nick held out his hand and Becca glanced down before pressing her small hand into his large one. Immediately, warmth spread from the point of contact, up his arm, settling in his core, and it took every bit of his willpower not to tug her toward him, drenched and all, his lips crashing against hers, that sunflower and sunshine smell of hers washing over him.
    God, he was in trouble.
    “Deal.”
    Nick grinned. “Now about that hot shower . . .”

Chapter Five
    “S top it.” Becca pushed her friend’s shoulder and Nick scoffed.
    “I didn’t say anything.”
    “You were thinking it.”
    Nick spun around, his arms out. “Do you see where we are? It’s an elementary school. I’m supposed to master scuba diving surrounded by Elmo and Dora?”
    “So what? I bet Elmo and Dora could teach you a thing or two. And besides, it’s just the classroom portion. We’ll move to the water in a few weeks.”
    Nick stopped walking beside a statue of a Native American chief with a cheesy smile on his face. “Mr. Chief here wants to know how we’re supposed to learn to dive in a classroom.”
    “How did you learn?”
    “My dad threw me into our pool with a mask and snorkel on, threw a pair of fins at me, and ordered me to go underwater or drown.”
    “Be serious.”
    Nick laughed. “Fine. We had a private instructor.”
    “Of course you did,” Becca grumbled. Then she found the right classroom and opened the door, only to close it again and point