Page 25 of Found Forever

“This is actually a brilliant marking system,” she said, having found the next one before Decker even did. She beamed up at him when she adjusted their course according to the sticks, taking the lead.

He didn’t mind one bit. It gave him an excuse to stare at her ass in those yoga pants.

She located the next several markers, which impressed the shit out of him. Then they were at the lake.

“Oh my. This is lovely,” she said in awe as they stood on top of a small bluff overlooking the crystal-clear lake surrounded by towering evergreens. “There’s even a little island in the middle.”

“Asher said there’s a small beach to the left here,” Decker said, heading downward.

She followed and within five minutes they were down at a small rocky beach with the sun in front of them and the water glittering like a million diamonds.

He welcomed the warm breeze across the V of sweat along the neckline of his T-shirt. He wasted no time peeling it over his head and hanging it on a tree branch to dry. Then he spun around to face her and begin unloading thebackpack, but stopped when he caught her standing there with her mouth open.

“What?” he asked, hiding a smirk by dipping his head to open the backpack.

“That stomach seems painted on. That’s not real. It can’t be. Nobody in real life has a stomach like that. It’s photoshopped.”

He snorted and his smirk tugged harder at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. I paint these lines on every morning. You’ll see them wash off when I get in the water. Nothing but a beer belly, really. It’s all an illusion.” He pulled a plaid picnic blanket out of the backpack and spread it over the rocks, then patted his stomach.

She glared at him playfully and shook her head. Then she peeled off her tank top to reveal a black sports bra. Next came her yoga pants. In seconds, she was in nothing but a black thong and a black sports bra, and his dick pressed against the zipper of his cargo shorts.

“I paint my tits on, too,” she said with a snicker to her voice, making him realize he’d stopped searching in the backpack and was just standing there slack-jawed and staring at her.

He cleared his throat and resumed pulling their picnic out of the backpack. She reclined on the blanket and closed her eyes. She was like the cover of a fucking magazine, all sprawled out on the blanket. One leg was bent at the knee, her arms were casually thrown up by her head and a small, playful smile curled her full lips.

She was the best kind of distraction.

“I suppose I should ask if you need some help,” she said, rolling over to her side and propping her head up on one hand. That just made her tits squish together, and he nearly swallowed his fucking tongue.

“You’re helping plenty just laying there looking like that,” he said, bringing out more containers of food and setting them down.

Once he was finished, he joined her on the blanket.

She sat up and watched him open the bottle of sparkling wine he’d wrapped in a few cryo-pack ice packs. The kind you use for injuries. They were more flexible, and he wrapped a few of them around the bottle and then rolled it all in a towel. The wine was still chilled.

The cork deploying made a loud echo across the lake.

He found plastic champagne flutes in the kitchen cupboard in the farmhouse, so even though they weren’t as fancy, they were far more practical. He poured her a healthy portion and handed it to her.

She waited for him to pour himself some, then turned to him with a big smile. “What should we toast to?”

He’d spoken more words with this woman in the past week than he had with anyone in his life—besides, maybe his brother. But for once, he was speechless.

“How about tomaking connections?” she offered, a coy smile tipping her lips.

Heat flickered in his belly, and he nodded, knocking his plastic flute against hers. “To making connections.”

They sipped their beverages in silence, staring out at the translucent lake.

There was no awkwardness with Joanna. No second guessing in his head that she was quiet because she was secretly brooding and angry with him. The woman didn't play head games, and he appreciated the fuck out of that.

With a deep sigh, he felt right to his marrow, she finished her wine and set the flute down on the rocks before turning to face him again. “Thank you for this. I really needed it.”

“Tough week?”

She smiled more brightly than the warm sun overhead, but shook her head. “Not at all. This week was … magical. I honestly thought I was going to be absolute rubbish as a dance teacher. I’ve never taught anyone anything in my life, let alonechildren. But it was brilliant.Theywere brilliant. Sweet and clever. Fun and so eager to learn and improve. Moves they couldn’t achieve on Tuesday, they were masters at today. And the smiles of pride on their faces broughtso much warmth to my heart and tears to my eyes. I—” She swallowed and blinked a few times as the emotion took hold of her. “I loved it. Every minute of it.”

She swept a tear away, but he knew it was a tear of joy. Of feeling fulfilled. She was back doing what she loved, which was dancing.

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