Page 42 of Old Acquaintances

I flick water at him. “I am very classy.”

“You are the exact reason she didn’t want to hang out with us. She only came on the ski trip because you weren’t supposed to be there. That weekend in Destin really did it for her.”

“He dared me!” I argue, gesturing toward the man with the cups. “I didn’twantto jump in the pool!”

“Naked.”

“It’s calledskinny-dipping,it has a name. I wasn’t just frolicking naked in a hotel pool.”

“That doesn’t make it normal!” He laughs.

I grumble, “Well then tell your friend to stop daring me to do stuff.”

At the other end of the pool, Tucker calls out, “At least she’s clothed now.”

Watching him walk toward us, I find myself thinking about noon. With the sun at its peak in the sky, Tucker’s golden skin would shine, blinding us all with his lean muscles and broad shoulders.

I remember days on the beach, on his stepdad’s boat, at the neighborhood pool. I can hear the whiny drawl of the girls he dated and recall the image of their eyes undressing him further. Right now, he’s cast in some shadow, his bare feet at the pool’s edge, but he’s still as gorgeous as he’s ever been.

His arms might have more muscle tone. His chest hair darker, thicker. His swim trunks hang low on his hips, showing a cut of muscle right above his -

Stop it, Ella.

I shut my eyes.

“Pass this to the babe in the back,” he says.

I open my eyes to a plastic cup in front of my face. I take the cold, frozen drink that Ritchie offers and stiffen when Tucker walks down the pool steps. He leans back and rests his elbows beside where Callie sits, dangling her feet in the water.

I look forward, eye-level with the waistband of his trunks.

“My eyes are up here, Ella,” Tucker says.

I drink my icy margarita and avoid Tucker’s gaze, my non-occupied hand stirring the water, trying to paddle backward.

Johnny’s hands land on my float and he pushes me forward saying, “Tuck, when’s that bed and breakfast going to be ready?”

Tucker runs a hand over his face. “Ah, that one’s been abitch. I’ve had that property for almost a year now and just can’t seem to catch a break. We put in brand-new hardwood floors last month and then a pipe burst and ruinedall of it.”

“Oh no!” Callie grabs by float and pushes it back. “Didn’t you have issues with the roof, too?”

“Mold. Asbestos. Bat infestation.”

Wyatt squeezes the foam beside my head as I’m stopped. He says, “Dude, why don’t you just get rid of it?”

Tucker sighs. “I’ve got enough projects going that will fund the work, and it’s a perfect location. The house is amazing. I know it’ll be great when it gets finished, but it feels like I’m paddling upstream right now.”

Wyatt pushes my raft, and it lands in front of Tucker who grabs it, holding me still. Staring down at me. He mutters, “I just can’t let it go.”

My friends have passed me around, pushing my raft, but Tucker keeps me steady in front of him with a hand on my shin. His scratchy skin molds to my smooth leg, and I’d be interested in that action were it not for his ping-ponging eyes across my reclined body. He catches my eye and suddenly that hand feels hotter than a red-hot poker, branding him to my flesh.

His eyelids lower. “What are you thinking?”

That I was right.

“I’m just thinking about bets,” I answer casually.

He picks, “How they’re against the Lord?”

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