Free My Greek SEAL by Sabrina Devonshire Page A

water and videos us with a GoPro. Once all of our swims are recorded, we head back to Geni. Over beers in the hotel restaurant, we watch our swims on a large screen that has been set up.
    I sip my beer and study the screen. Maryann is stroking through the water. She and Randy sit beside me at one of the outdoor tables shaded by an enormous trellis entangled with flowering vines. We’ve already watched all of the other swimmers and Eros has commented in detail on how they can improve their strokes. It surprised me how patient and thoughtful he was. Even when he critiqued floundering strokes that looked like they’d be difficult to improve, he made suggestions in a way that sounded encouraging instead of overly critical. It made me wonder if maybe I’d judged him too harshly. I did feel very reactive and overly sensitive all day. Maybe that was part of the reason he raked on my nerves so much.
    “Dreadful isn’t it?” Maryann whispers.
    Basically, her stroke is passable. Strong kick, decent pull, just the catch appears to need work. “I think your stroke looks good.”
    Eros pauses the film and points. “You see how your hand is crossing like this?” Eros imitates one of her strokes so she can see how her hand enters the water more across midline than in front of the body.
    Maryann nods.
    My mouth goes dry as I watch his agile movements. Who knew that watching someone do swimming movements on dry land could be so hot?
    Eros glances at me briefly. His jaw tightens and his gaze darts back toward Maryann. “You want to place the hand more out in front. Tomorrow I will show you some swimming drills you can do to help with that.” He goes on to explain more about her hand entry.
    “Thank you, Eros. That’s very helpful,” says Maryann. She elbows me and winks. “The bloke really knows swimming. Bet he’s quite brilliant in the bedroom as well.”
    I choke on my beer.
    Eros glances at me and frowns. “Is something wrong?”
    “Oh, no, I’m f-fine.” I cough again.
    “Very good. Now it is time for us to look at your film, Maya.”
    I shake my head and then down the rest of my beer as the image of me swimming toward him underwater flashes up on the screen. I feel proud of the way I move through the water. My hands don’t make a lot of bubbles as they enter and start pulling through. I can’t remember where I read that, but somewhere I saw that lots of bubbles on the entry meant an inefficient stroke.
    Some of the others whisper and point.
    “Her stroke is brilliant,” says Maryann.
    “I would have to agree with that,” says Eros. “Watch the way the hand enters the water. Right out in front where it is supposed to be. And during the pull through, the arm bends so the hand in close to the body as she pushes back. This provides the best power. Maya is expert swimmer.”
    I blush and meet his gaze. I can’t believe how good it feels hearing this compliment.
    Eros goes on to reverse and replay the film, explaining everything he thinks is nice about my stroke. Whenever his gaze connects with mine, he looks at me with admiration. Maybe it’s because I just finished my second beer that I’m feeling these fuzzy warm feelings for him. It really was partially my fault we rubbed each other the wrong way all day, and our cultural backgrounds are so different, it only made things worse.
    “I think we’re going to run on back to our room for a bit of a nap.” Maryann pushes back her chair and stands up. Randy is already as step ahead of her.
    “I think I’m going to have one more beer,” I say. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
    “Very good, dear.”
    By now almost everyone is gathering their belongings and heading out of the bar. I know it would be smarter if I left too, but for some crazy reason I linger, hoping Eros will come over and talk to me once he’s finished putting away all the equipment.
    When the waiter walks over to the table to collect the empty glasses, I ask for another beer. He sets down the