After they had finished the picnic, polishing off every bit of it, he asked, “Are you ready to snorkel?”
She looked up, in the process of l*****g potato salad off her finger. Her stomach flipped when she saw his gaze settle on her mouth, a look of yearning on his face. “Aren’t you going to make me wait an hour after eating?”
“Nah.” He waved his hand. “That’s an old wives’ tale.”
“Agreed.” Feeling slightly less self-conscious this time, she carried one of the bags and followed him to the water’s edge. They slipped on the gear and were ready to snorkel. She declined his offer of a refresher course and waded in, careful to lift her feet high to prevent clouding her view by stirring up sand with her fins.
When she was deep enough, she stretched out on her stomach, letting herself float as
