"What's your name, honey?" you ask the wailing little girl. She sniffs, then answers, her breath hitching with sobs, "Tracy."
"Well Tracy...can you stand up? You're much too pretty to just lay down and be a speed bump. Let's move camp over to...there," and you point to a spot of sand off the trail. The boy is helping, holding her bike and murmuring encouragingly to her, but Tracy's face scrunches up again, ready to cry. You never were too good with kids.
Just then, a confident male voice confides in a low voice: "She's not hurt. She just wants attention." You look over to the right, and he's not one foot away. There is a look of tenderness on his handsome face, despite his words. He flashes you a quick grin. You are mesmerized: his tan face, even white teeth and sparkling blue-green eyes hold you in thrall, and he stares back in equal fascination. You notice with definite approval that he isn't wearing a shirt, and his red swim trunks identify his profession.
"Aren't lifeguards supposed to rescue people in the water?" you ask him.
"I couldn't resist a damsel in distress," he replies while holding your gaze, then nods towards the little girl so that you aren't quite sure which "damsel" he refers to. His beautiful red-gold hair catches the sunshine, making you want to run your fingers through it to see if it's as silky as it looks. Just one little touch.
Choose