Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Beth K. Vogt Read Free Book Online

slipped under both the boy’s arms so he couldn’t struggle. The boy’s eyes widened in his pale face.
    â€œIt’s okay . . . okay.” Vanessa treaded water, raking the strands of hair out of her face. As the unknown man towed the teen toward the shore, she swam beside them. “Not going . . . to let you drown.”
    The boy’s eyes darted back and forth, his skin pale, his hands clawing at the other swimmer’s arm. Vanessa used one arm to swim, grabbing the boy’s hand with her free hand. Out of the corner of her eye she could just see the man’s head bobbing in the water against the night sky, his hair slicked back as he swam toward shore.
    â€œIt’s okay.” She kicked harder so the guy wouldn’t have to pull both of them in.
    The moment her toes touched sand, Vanessa stumbled to her feet, fighting the invisible pull of the tide against her trembling legs. The man lifted the teen into his arms and trudged through the surf, water rolling off his bare shoulders. The lights of several emergency vehicles flashed red and white in the parking lot, and three emergency personnel came toward them with a stretcher.
    Vanessa swiped at the water streaming down her face, her hair heavy against her neck and shoulders. Her camisole clung to her torso, her jean shorts were congealed against her thighs. Her sweatshirt was lost in the Gulf. The night air cooled the skin on her arms and legs, the sand gritty between her toes. With the arrival of the paramedics and EMTs, there was nothing more for her to do. Still, she waited, bent over at the waist, gasping, watching them stabilize the teen before transporting him to the hospital. Their familiar actions anchored her back to reality.
    â€œWhat were those kids thinking?” The other rescuer, who had shown up at just the right time, stood off to the side, hands on his hips.
    â€œI don’t know—” As she caught sight of the shadowed profile in the glare of the emergency vehicle’s headlights, the rest of her reply died on her lips. “Logan?”
    The sound of his name caused the man to look away from the crowd gathered around the teen. Shadows hid his face.
    She had to be mistaken. The man standing a few feet from her wasn’t her ex-husband. He couldn’t be.
    â€œVanessa?” He took a half step toward her, stopping when Vanessa stumbled backward. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œI—I heard somebody yelling . . . and I went to help.” She hadn’t answered his question.
    â€œBut why are you here —in Destin?”
    She hadn’t seen Logan Hollister in eight years, and all she could do was stand there, the water dripping off her body onto the sand, and give him half answers. “I’m visiting Mindy.”
    Someone came up behind her and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, a flimsy shield against the humidity-laden air. “How are you feeling? That’s amazing what you did, saving that kid.”
    Vanessa gripped the soft edges of the blanket, a shiver coursing through her body. “I didn’t do it alone.”
    Logan waved away the offer of a blanket. Before she could say anything else—and really, what would she say?—another man pointed a handheld video camera at them.
    â€œI got it all on tape! You guys are heroes! My wife’s calling the local news station—they’re gonna want to see this!”
    â€œI just helped.” Logan’s voice pitched low as he motioned to Vanessa. “But she got to the kid before I did.”
    The ambulance lights glinted off Logan’s wet hair—cut so much shorter than he used to wear it—and outlined his muscular build.
    Vanessa couldn’t seem to speak above much more than a whisper. “I only did what anyone else would have done.”
    The man pointed his camera at her. “What’s your name?”
    â€œIt doesn’t