I scan the beach and out into the water beyond, looking for any signs of distress from the hundreds of beach goers out making the most of the scorching heat.

I scowl as my gaze catches on the news crew further down the sand. I don’t have a problem with their reporting, but live TV turns people stupid, and with the heavy sets rolling in today, stupid isn’t what I’m hoping for.

I radio down to Nick; he and Becca are patrolling the east side of the beach, and Georgie and I have the west.

“Can you two come our way a bit? We’ve got a camera crew down here and I’m going to go down and make sure no one does anything dumb.”

The radio crackles and then Nick replies. “Copy that, boss, we’ll close the gap.”

I clip it back on the band of my shorts and jog the short distance to Georgie. “I’m going to go keep an eye on things down there. You good up here?”

She nods. “I’ve got this, just make sure we don’t have a repeat of last time.” She scowls at the reporter.

I know exactly what she’s referring to.

I shake my head in disbelief. Some people will do anything to get themselves on TV.

Last time it took us half an hour to get the nude surfer out of the water and up onto the beach before the police could take him away.

I’m not against nudist beaches or anything, but this isn’t one of them.

The poor kids around were probably scarred for days by the dude’s hairy balls.

I head down the beach towards the camera crew to get a better look.

Great.

It’s Emily Simons.

She’s so hungry for a good story she’d chew her own leg off.

She smiles brightly as she sees me approaching. “Morning, Rhett.” She bats her lashes at me.

She’s motivated in more ways than one. The woman has been angling for a date for the past six months. I’m starting to think that’s why she finds these ‘stories’ down at my beach so often.

I’ve spent half of my life down on these shores, first as a kid, then a junior lifeguard, then a senior, and now as the head lifeguard – my job for the past five years.

It’s my dream job – the Baywatch jokes from my mates aside.

“How are you doing, Emily?”

“Better now.” She beams, and I manage to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Just. Only just.

The woman is the epitome of a walking cliché and she doesn’t even seem to know it.

“Just thought I’d come down and keep an eye on things, you know… after last time.”

“Oh, sure.” She gives me a smile that gives me the distinct impression that she thinks I’m playing coy – like I’m just looking for an excuse to get closer to her.

She couldn’t be further from the truth.

She says something to her camera guy and takes a step in my direction.

Ah crap.

Here we go again.

My radio beeps on my hip, right as I start to scramble for a reason to keep my distance from her.

I shouldn’t be grateful for a possible emergency, but I am.

Saved by the bell.

“Boss, we’ve got a situation out back,” Blake – the senior lifeguard in the patrol tower tells me.

I’ve got the radio in my hand in a flash. “Where?”

“Directly in line with your position, back of the breakers.”

I rush to the edge of the water, but I can’t see shit from down here, the swell is too big.

“Am I getting wet?” I demand.

“I dunno, boss, she’s not got her arm in the air yet, but she’s caught in that rip.”

“Becca, get down here,” I radio over to my team.

Becca might only be a junior, but she could outswim any of us with her eyes shut, and with conditions like this, she’ll be valuable.

“On my way,” she replies without missing a beat.

“Sorry, boss, no time, you need to get out there, now,” Blake cuts in, letting me know the situation has escalated. This woman might not have been in trouble before, but she is now.

Shit.

Becca won’t be here for a couple of minutes. It can’t wait that long.

I drop the radio, drag my shirt over my head, grab the rescue tube from the nearby flag, and plough my way through the shallow water and crashing waves.

I hear Emily yell at her camera crew to start rolling. Vulture.

I dive under huge wave after huge wave until I get to the back of the breakers, and Jesus, this isn’t just a rip, it’s the mother of all rips; it’s dragging me out to sea.

I saw it earlier, shifted the flags accordingly, but I had no idea it was this powerful or I would have moved every swimmer well clear.

Rips are our biggest problem on this beach.

It doesn’t seem to matter how much we educate the public on what to do if they get caught in a rip – ninety percent of the time they’ll still try their hardest to swim against it, usually to the point where they’re exhausted and near drowning.

I search, looking desperately for the woman. I nearly miss her head bobbing up and down, almost completely under water.

My arms cut through the choppy water and I’m at her side in a few seconds.

“Miss!” I call, but she doesn’t respond.

I reach underwater, dragging her face above the surface, but she’s not responding – her eyes are closed, and her body is limp.

I strap the tube around her middle and flip her back against my chest, I’m about to start the long swim back to shore when I hear the roar of the rescue boat’s engine.

Thank god for that.

Nick spins the boat. Becca is in the front, already leaning over the edge, her arm extended to help me drag the lifeless woman in.

I heave her from the water and throw myself over the side of the pontoon, my body still half in the water when Nick hits the accelerator.

Becca has the tube unclipped and the woman on her back and I’m kneeling next to her, checking for signs of life in the very next second.

We work well together, me and my team, this is what we do.

“She’s not breathing.”

I know this isn’t the time for trivial shit, but this woman, she smells like strawberries and cream – so sweet my mouth is practically watering.

“The ambulance is already on its way, boss,” Nick responds.

The engine squeals as we fly down the face of a wave, getting airborne.

I don’t know how the hell this woman managed to get all the way out back – I’m the strongest swimmer here – other than Becca, and that was work, even for me.

Nick speeds us towards the shore, the boat skidding to a stop in the wet sand.

“Starting CPR,” I announce as soon as we’re stationary.

I press my hands to her chest and press down thirty times, her chest jerking with the movement.

“C’mon, baby,” I murmur to her.

Two breaths, thirty more compressions.

I can’t hear anything but my own breath ringing in my ears.

Breathe, dammit, I beg her silently.

“Ambulance is here,” Becca calls out, rushing from the boat to clear a path so the paramedics can get through the hordes of people that have crowded around to get a better view.

I give her chest another heavy thump and water bubbles from her mouth.

“Rhett…” Nick says, seeing it too.

I roll her on her side, and she coughs, more water spilling from her mouth.

She coughs again, her hands flying up to her throat, and I almost cry in relief.

She’s alive.

“Easy… easy.” I soothe her as I roll her over gently and come face to face with the most incredible set of eyes I’ve ever seen.

Molten gold, burning into mine. “You’re going to be alright,” I whisper.