Page 3 of Here In Your Arms

He smiles, but I’m not really sure it reaches his eyes. “Not bad E. It’s nothing fancy, but considering your pay as a bartender, I wouldn’t expect fancy.”

So, he likes it? I can’t tell.

“Um, thanks, I was hoping to put more pictures up and make it a little nicer,” I tell him.

I wasn’t, but I’ll make it nicer for him if that’s what he wants.

“That’s probably smart. I’d like to have something nice to look at when I’m here with you,” he says, walking toward me.

I give a small smile at the idea of him being here with me. The heaviness feels a little easier to bear with him around.

“Well? Ready to go?” he asks.

“Oh, where? We just got here.”

“We’ll go to my place. It’s nicer so you’ll be more comfortable. There’s bound to be more food there, so you can have more options for cooking dinner. I know you like to cook,” he says as I lock my door.

“Oh, okay,” I say, nodding my agreement.

He’s right, I can’t afford much on a bartender wage, but I want him to be happy, so I have to ensure I have more of the stuff he likes. He’s so sweet to me, it’s the least I can do.

I shake myself out of that bullshit and try to refocus on the present. Nice things aren’t the end goal. I need to remind myself of that. What I like is good enough; I don’t need to live up to anyone else. I don’t need anyone to help me manage my depression. I can handle it fine.

Tuning out the extra noise of the pool area, I work on centering myself and pushing out memories of the toxic shit I put up with for way too long. All I wanted was some peace from my depression, but he never wanted to help with that.

After a couple more minutes, I lift my eyes to scan around the pool to see what’s going on around me. I can see Claire grinning and laughing while she swims. That girl has the biggest heart and makes friends with anyone. She gets reprimanded by the teacher for not paying attention, and when the teacher looks away, she gives the other students a conspiratorial grin. My lips draw up in a small smile at her antics.

My eyes lock on someone holding onto the edge of the pool, goggles on and staring right at me. Fuck. I whip my eyes back down to my phone as fast as I can. It’s so awkward making eye contact in public like that, especially when it’s someone gorgeous. How do I know he’s gorgeous? He’s got that chiseled jaw thing going on and his dark hair is slicked back from swimming. Hard NOT to find that attractive. Curiosity has me in a chokehold and I glance up toward him again.

Just in time, because this glorious man is heaving himself out of the deep end and water sluices down his body. What I wouldn’t give to be the one running down his body. Damn, he is fit. Not body builder level, but he has muscle, that’s for sure. He stands there for a moment with his head tipped back before whipping off his goggles and shaking his hair, reminding me of a dog. A smile tugs at my lips at the image.

He turns, and I’m pretty sure I start drooling when I catch sight of his abs. Damn, he looks good. Looking down at my own soft belly, I pat it and mentally assure it that I’m not trying to look like that. I like my rolls, my extra weight. I’m not in what you’d call the “very fat” category, but I’m not “straight sized” either. Somewhere in between. My eyes are drawn back to the swimming masterpiece as he walks into the men’s locker room, and I admit some disappointment as he moves out of view. The eye candy was nice. Now back to reality.

Claire’s swimming lessons end, and I smile as she walks up to me, grinning from ear to ear. Handing her a towel, I fall in step next to her as we walk to the locker room.

“Good lesson?”

“Yes! I think I’m getting really good at backstroke. Pretty soon I’m gonna be teaching those classes myself!” she brags.

“Damn straight you are,” I say with a small laugh.

“Aunt Rory! You’re not supposed to swear.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” I tell her, a single eyebrow raised in mischief.

She giggles. “Deal!”

I tweak her nose and stand by while she changes. I try to give her some privacy since she’s starting to want that more, but I don’t leave her sight. There’s probably nothing to worry about, but one can never be too cautious when your only niece is on the line. The gym is crowded as we leave, walking slowly through the crowd of people coming and going from the building. I swear I feel someone’s eyes on me, but I chalk it up to paranoia and move on. There’s no way someone’s checking me out, and I know he’s not here. He’s only ever at the pub.

On the way home, I pull into a drive thru to get some chocolate milkshakes. It’s tradition on swim lesson days. Okay, it’s tradition anytime I take her anywhere, but it’s my right as the aunt to spoil her some. We get our shakes, and she looks over at me, a small gleam in her too-knowing eyes as I slowly steer through the parking lot.

“Aunt Rory? Who was that guy that was looking at you?”

“What guy?” I ask, hoping it’s not that muscle man who hauled himself out of the water at the gym. Not that I am still thinking of him. I can stop anytime I want to.

“That guy that was swimming then got out and stared at you before leaving the pool. It was weird. I think he was watching you on the way out too.”

Well, of course she noticed that. She’s too observant for a ten-year-old.

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