Chapter 15

I'd never been a strong swimmer. When it came time to kick my legs and flap my arms, I always ended up looking like a drunk seal, but I was a solid doggy-paddler, and when Croc started forward up the canal, that was my go to.

After a few minutes of him getting too far ahead, he turned back and stopped to wait for me. He followed my motions, biting his bottom lip to try and stop it from quirking. "Why are you doing that?"

I stopped and just managed to tiptoe my chin above the water. "What's wrong with it? It's called a doggy paddle."

His lips broke free, and he lifted his hand to cover them. "A...doggy paddle?"

"Yes," I said. "It's a very popular form of swimming." For children who don't know how to swim yet. I ground my teeth, not liking his judgment but also grateful to have something to talk about. Doggy paddling seemed like the perfect thing to explore compared to everything else I could be thinking about. Still, he was being a bit insensitive. "Since when do you make fun of people, Croc? I've never seen you be anything but curious. Don't you want to know all about the doggy paddle?"

He rumbled a laugh and shook his head. "No. I don't think I do."

"Oh, I see. Well, then, if you don't like the way I swim..." I struggled toward the bank, but one step across the uneven ground sent me plummeting below the surface.

Croc pulled me up by my arm and deposited me back where I could stand. "Do it again?"

I glared at him.

"What? I want to learn. I do. Show me again."

I stared at his sincere expression a few minutes. He was full of shit. He didn't want to learn. He wanted to laugh at me some more. Regardless, I begrudgingly swam forward a couple of feet.

Croc chuckled, then rumbled, then exploded with deep, throaty laughter.

I stood again, and in my new spot, I was able to place my feet flat on the ground. "You're making fun of me."

He shook his head, but it didn't mean much when he was doubled over howling.

Once again, it was impossible to stay mad when he looked the way he did. Sure, the children made him laugh. Julia made him laugh, but not like this. This was different. The cadence and depth of each rumble of his chest caused a zing of warmth to course through my stomach. I ignored the feeling and placed my hands on my hips, waiting for him to finish.

Croc took a deep breath and relaxed backward into the water. His floating felt like a brag. Look what I can do? It seemed to say. Bet you can't do that, is what I heard.

"I don't get it," he said, smiling despite my obvious annoyance. "Why do you scrunch your body up like that? Your legs are barely doing anything, and your hands..." He pulled his up to his chest and mimicked me, flapping them back and forth like a T-rex challenging someone to a slapping match. He laughed again. "It's like you're trying not to touch the water."

"Hardy-har-har. I get it, okay? You win. I'm not a good swimmer." Jerk. I hated braggers. So what if I couldn't swim? I'd never needed to. I didn't live in a swamp, and I'd been too busy surviving to participate in extracurricular activities.

He shifted back upright. "Really? So everyone doesn't swim like that where you're from?"

I crossed my arms. "Kids do, until they learn."

"Ah, I see. That makes a lot more sense." He dipped down, bending his knees until the water reached his chin, then slowly closed the space between us and pulled me down to his level. "Why didn't you learn?"

There it was. His curiosity, genuine this time. I pursed my lips and heaved a breath. "A lot of people don't. For most, going swimming just means being chest deep in water and playing Marco Polo."

"What's Marco Polo?"

My lips parted. I shouldn't have been surprised, yet I still was. It was easier to forget with his increased knowledge, but occasionally, I'd get a reminder of just how sheltered he'd been; how much he missed out on. Sure, I'd missed out too, but at least I knew what it was. "It's a game," I said. "One person closes their eyes and tries to tag the other. Every time the seeker calls out the word Marco, the hider has to answer with Polo and try not to get caught."

His brows lifted; interest peaked. "Let's play."

The water was murky, the perfect place for hungry little creatures to hide and steal my toes. It was bad enough being in it, I wasn't about to close my eyes and throw caution to the bank. "I don't know. What if something sneaks up on us?"

A wry, dismissive grin curved his mouth. "Have you seen anything yet?"

"Well, no, but you can't see anything."

"I can, but you won't. Like I said, they know better than to come near me. I hunt, Willow. Do you think the fish aren't smart enough to stay away?"

"It's not the fish I'm most worried about." Well, it was the fish. Them and everything else. I wouldn't come within five feet of a bunny juiced up on the green, not with what I'd seen it do so far.

"The gators, too. They won't mess with us." He stood to his full height and closed his eyes. "Me first. How do I start?"

I chewed my lip, searching the area one last time, before I gave in and moved quietly away from him.

"Willow?"

"Polo," I said, then shifted course, reverting to my doggy paddle when the water got too deep.

Croc stood a moment, head tilted, listening, then all at once he dipped down to disappear beneath the water.

My heart kickstarted as I searched for him. Should I remain still or hurry away? Why did it feel like I'd just signed up to box with a heavyweight? Oh, right, because he was a swamp thing, and I was a doggy paddler.

My scream ripped through the air as he emerged like a bullet and caged me against his chest.

"I caught you!" he boomed, laughing heartily.

"That's not fair!" I wriggled free. "It wasn't even a game. Your freaky mutant magic took all the fun out of it."

"I thought it was fun," he said. "Your turn."

I rolled my eyes and huffed. What I should have done was swim to shore, get out and head back. But Danny was there. Danny and all the things I didn't want to think about. Here, it was just Croc, boyishly excited to have learned a new game, even if it wasn't challenging in the least. "Fine," I grumbled, closing my eyes. "I'll give you a minute."

"Polo," he answered.

How the fuck? He sounded as if he'd swam a mile ahead of me, and I'd only just closed my eyes. "How did you get so far?" I waded toward the sound. "Don't go too far! I don't want to get eaten."

Silence answered, and I stopped to listen. The wind rustled through the trees, water burbled against stone, insects chirped, but no splash, no stirring in the water, no Croc.

"Marco!" I called.

"Polo," Croc whispered directly into my ear.

I squeaked and spun, reaching out to find nothing but water. "See? This isn't a fair game."

He didn't respond.

I ground my teeth. "Marco."

"Polo," he whispered again on the opposite side.

I tried to grab him, but he was too fast. I growled my frustration. "Marco!" I cried again, arms stretched wide to try and catch him in the act. He wasn't there.

"Polo," his voice rumbled right behind me.

I twisted, and lunged forward, falling under the water and spluttering back to the surface. Gravity took my hair and plastered it against my face, and I had to hold my nose and dip backwards to fix it.

I'd just lifted my body upright, using both hands to smooth my hair back, when his fingers grazed mine.

My eyes flew open, finding his as he cupped the back of my head and pressed his mouth to mine. No testing. No practice. Just like with everything else, he'd learned quickly, and his discovery the night before was nothing compared to this. He was urgent, desperate, devouring.

My body warred with my mind. One hand pushed him back, while the other pulled him closer. My brain sent a signal to tell him to stop, but my lungs propelled a moan instead. I shouldn't. It was wrong. It felt right. It wasn't fair to him. It wasn't good for me. He was perfect.

He settled me against him, supporting my weight and allowing the water to carry us both where it wanted to. His hands explored, running up my arms, gripping my shoulders, then running flat down the full expanse of my back.

"Ooh, whatcha' doin, Croc?" A croaking voice interrupted. "She got a bunch of flies in her mouth?"

I opened my eyes and screamed. There on the bark of a nearby tree was a frog the size of a fucking cat. Massive and slimy, with oversized black eyes and a wide toothless mouth. I screamed again.

Croc pulled back with a heavy sigh.

It stretched its head forward, peering into my opened mouth. "I don't see any. You must have got em' all."

I scrambled backward out of Croc's lap and once again sunk beneath the surface. Murky brown and forest green clouded my vision, particles dancing with the rhythm of my desperation, until Croc pulled me back up and held me by the arm.

He shook his head at the unwanted visitor. "No flies here, Ribbit."

The frog leaned closer.

Croc waved him off. "I think I saw a swarm of flies down by my dock. Big ones. Some as big as you."

Ribbit tilted his head in the direction, then turned back to study me. "If there's no flies, why'd you have your tongue in her mouth?"

Croc didn't even pause. "I was just making sure."

"That's smart. You never know, I guess." He paused. "Wait," he focused on me, "If you thought there were flies in your mouth, why didn't you just eat them?"

"Ribbit." Croc's voice tightened. "Go away."

The frog reared back. "Well, then, okay. There's no need to be rude." It gave us one last indignant look, then hopped off the tree to disappear into the bush.

Croc turned back to me. "I don't suppose you're going to be okay with us pretending that didn't happen."

He wanted to continue the thing that shouldn't have even started. Things were getting out of hand. He was getting too comfortable, and I was letting him. I was encouraging him, and as easy as it would be to saddle the blame on his shoulders, he didn't know any better. I controlled this, and if I didn't get my head straight, I'd be no better than the men in my life. I shook my head. "It's probably better that it did." I cleared my throat. "We should head back."

His jaw tightened, but he nodded and helped me wade to the side and climb up the embankment. We walked back in silence, having never made it that far to begin with, and we were almost home when Croc said, "I can teach you how to swim. No rule breaking or games next time, if you want."

No rule breaking. No games. A ping of guilt ricocheted through my chest. I'd let things progress too far and made him feel like he'd done something wrong. I'd seen bad men. I'd encountered them time and time again. Croc wasn't that. He wasn't like them—like Danny. "We both broke the rules," I said. "But we need to follow them now. I'd like to learn, but we can't do that again. I need to know that you'll be good."

He grimaced. "I'll be good." We stepped up to the porch, and Croc took the lead to open the door. He turned back just as his hand gripped the handle. "I wonder if Julia knows how to cook frog."