Evie's Bombshell - By Amy Andrews Page 0,17

to be anywhere you’re at.

It was a little early for her rendezvous with the guys—it didn’t matter, she had to keep moving, do something other than think, get away from his words.

Rutted like animals.

The ocean, more rolling than pounding and surprisingly calm in some areas beneath the leaden sky, lay before her and she knew it was what she needed. To cleanse herself. Let the ocean wash the ugliness of his words away.

Rutted. Rutted. Rutted.

She took the stairs two at a time, her breath choking and catching in her throat, shaking her head to jam the audio playing on continuous loop.

Her foot hit the sand, her lungs and throat burning as breath and sob fought for the lion’s share of each inhalation. She ran down to the shoreline, dropped her bag and kept going, running into the water, not registering the cooler temperature or the depth she quickly reached.

She just threw herself into the waves and struck out against the ocean. Heaving in oxygen through her nose, pulling armfuls of water behind her as she freestyled like she had a rocket attached to her feet.

Getting away from Finn. Away from his words.

Away from his rejection.

She swam and swam, not looking up or around, just hitting out at the waves as her anger grew to match his.

Finn Kennedy was a jerk of the highest order.

He was a misogynist. A masochist.

Bloody-minded. Arrogant. Bastard.

And she was much too good for him.

So she swam. She swam and she swam until she couldn’t swim another stroke. And then she stopped.

She had no idea how long she’d been swimming. All she knew was her arms, legs and lungs were screaming at her and the beach seemed a very long way away. And the thought of having to swim all the way back was not a welcome one.

Damn it. Now look what he’d done.

He’d chased her right out into the middle of the bloody ocean. She sighed as she prepared to swim back.

Finn stood on the cliff top, his anxiety lessening as Evie came closer to land. Stupid fool to go out swimming by herself. The water might look calm to the untrained eye but the swell often made swimming very hard going and the tide was on the turn—always a more dangerous time to be in the water. From this vantage point he could see a rip forming close to the shore before his eyes.

And Evie was swimming right into it.

‘Evie!’ he called out, even though he knew it was futile all the way up here, with the wind snatching everything away.

He hit the stairs at a run, his gaze trained firmly on Evie, watching as she started to go backwards despite her forward stroke. Seeing her lift her head, her expression confused when she realised what was happening. Noting the look of panic and exhaustion as her desperate hands clawed at the water as if she was trying to gain purchase.

Thank God his raging thoughts had brought him to the cliff edge. That he’d sought the ocean to clear his head after their bitter exchange.

‘Evie,’ he called out again as his foot hit the sand. Still futile but coming from a place inside that kicked and burned and clawed, desperate to get the words out. ‘Evie!’

It took Evie long seconds to figure out she’d been caught in a rip. And even longer seconds to stop fighting the pull at her legs and push at her body. No matter how much she kicked and bucked against the current, bands of iron seemed to pull tighter and just would not give.

Over the pounding of her heart her sluggish brain tried to remember what every Aussie kid growing up anywhere near a beach had been taught from the cradle.

Don’t fight it.

Lie on your back and go with it.

Wait until it ebbs then swim parallel to the beach.

Conserve your energy.

Evie felt doomed immediately. She was already exhausted—where on earth would she find the energy to swim back again once this monstrous sucker had discharged her from its grip? She opened her eyes to glance wistfully at the rapidly receding shoreline.

And that’s when she saw him.

A shirtless Finn running into the ocean, looking right at her, his mouth open, calling to her maybe? She couldn’t hear the words but just the sight of him made her heart sing. Half an hour ago she could have cheerfully murdered him but right this second he was what he’d been since that night she’d plonked herself down next to him at the gala—her