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Beside her, Bennett sputtered and coughed as he took on saltwater. As the surf receded, Ivy clutched him around the chest. Using her weight as leverage and relying on her lifeguard training, she shifted him higher onto the shore and turned him over.
Bennett raised his hand, motioning to her. With a great cough that seemed as if it turned him inside out, he shoved himself to his knees.
The liquefied sand beneath them once again became terra firma.
“Don’t try to talk,” Ivy said, shivering in her wet shirt and jeans. Her slip-on loafers were gone, as was the jacket she’d draped over her shoulders.
With a great, hacking cough, Bennett pulled himself up. “I’m okay—” He stopped as another great cough seized his chest. “Let’s get in there…make sure guests are okay.” He glanced behind them
