Page 17 of Cool for the Summer

Hey! Sorry for just now checking in. How’s the pup?

I forgot to tell you I got a new pack of chew toys if you need them. In the pantry.

I shake my head and type back a reply before he can barrage me with more mother-henning.

Cleo’s happy as a clam. How was the flight?

Great. We’re trying to get on London time. Need anything before I sign off for the night?

Nope, we’re good.

I hit send before I can rethink that wording. It’s not as if Beck and I are a unit. We aren’t a “we.” But maybe Pete will think I mean me and Cleo. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Another thing I forgot — even though she doesn’t like car rides, she’s usually okay if I take her to the loop in the woods by the cemetery in town. It’s pretty short, and she loves that walk. Just keep her on the lead.

And don’t give her too many treats before bed.

And give her lots of kisses for me.

I laugh and type as fast as I can to stem the tide of texts.

I’m taking good care of her, promise. Hang on.

I jog downstairs to the kitchen but don’t see Cleo in her bed. I panic for a second, until I realize Beck must have taken her outside. I slide into shoes I left by the French doors and head outside across the patio. The afternoon sun is a stark contrast to the air-conditioned house, but the heat feels good on my shoulders as I cross the lawn to the fenced-in pool area, where I hear classic rock coming out of a poolside sound system. The gate’s latched, so I let myself in. Cleo is here, as predicted, gnawing on a tennis ball under the shade of a sand-colored canvas patio umbrella. Beck is here, too, lying on his front on a towel draped over a deck chair.

I stare shamelessly for a long minute. Beck is practically naked. The only scrap of fabric covering him are black briefs that barely cover his ass. His exposed skin is shiny, and there’s a lot of it. I catch a whiff of sunblock and hope the kid was smart enough to slather himself with it, though his shoulders look a little pink. I swallow heavily, remembering why I came out here.

Walking over to Cleo, I drop into a crouch to rub her head. “Hey girl, your daddy misses you.” I thumb open the camera on my phone and take a couple of snaps, then rise to my feet.

“What’s up?” Beck asks.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him turning from his front to back. I concentrate on sending the photos instead of letting myself look at him from this angle.

“Pete texted me. I thought I’d send him some pics to prove we’re not falling down on the job.”

“Good idea. I’ll send Jack more later.” He drapes his sunglasses over his face.

I look up from my phone with careful nonchalance. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.”

“The pool’s really refreshing if you want to take a dip.”

The denial is on the tip of my tongue, but the only reason I’d turn down the chance to go swimming on a beautiful summer afternoon is because I’m feeling contrary. And maybe I don’t trust myself around a mostly naked Beck.

“You staying out here for a while?” I ask.

“I’ve almost had enough sun,” Beck says. “But I’ll go in for a few more laps before starting dinner.”

“Okay.”

I read Pete’s thank you message for the Cleo pics on the way to my room. I shed my clothes and pull on my swim trunks, which seem old-man fogyish next to Beck’s banana hammock. I grab a towel from the stack in the guest bathroom, though there are probably pool towels somewhere. I’ll have to investigate. A minute later, I’m back by the pool, dipping my toes in the deep end. Chilly.

“It’s heated,” Beck says reassuringly.

“It doesn’t feel that warm.” I try to remember the last time I went swimming. Must have been vacation in Florida, a couple of years ago.

“Do you need me to push you in?” he asks, amused. Sitting up to watch the show, Beck’s flat abs form little ridges as he curves his spine forward and puts his arms around his ankles.

“No, thank you.” I make my way to the shallow end of the long, narrow pool. I don’t have goggles or anything, so laps are out. But I can’t back out now. I leave my sunglasses on the edge, leap over the side, and plunge in, the cold water hitting everywhere at once, at first a shock and then a delight. I swim a few feet and come to standing in the middle of the pool, grinning at Beck. “Feels good.”

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