Page 15 of Legacy
“My teenaged sister wears suits like this. I’m sure an adult woman is capable. It’s beautiful outside. You saw it. I know you want to go in the pool. Put the suit on.”
She keeps the swimsuit in her hand and folds her arms. “I don’t have a teenager’s body,” she says.
Thank God,I think.
“I can’t believe you live in an actual mansion. When you said you had a gate, I envisioned an actual gate, not an entrance with a sentry and spikes.”
I shrug. “I can’t help what you think. Get dressed, Little Dempsey. You’re the one who couldn’t go home first to get your own grandma bathing suit.”
She gazes around the large guest room, curious. “Who else is coming over?” She meets my eyes.
Biting my lip, I look away. The lie. “No one else. It’s a low-key Sunday.” I back toward the door. “Figured you’d want to pick my brain about jumping in Marana. Or, you know, get details about the upcoming training trips. Use me as a reference on your CV, I don’t know.” The word vomit comes, and I don’t know how to stop it without telling her Maverick Hart told me to be her friend.
She narrows her eyes. “Not that I’m opposed to asking you, but you do realize I could ask my dad if I had any questions about anything SEAL related and why would I need a reference on my resume when I just got hired with no plans to ever leave?” Aarabelle dangles the bikini from her fingertip and stares at it, wincing.
“Get your info from an old geezer then.” I cock my head to the side and throw my thumbs up over my shoulder. I’ve never been alone with her and I underestimated how weird it would be. “I bet I can hold my breath longer than you can,” I edge, flailing to take the pressure off myself.
Her smile is so big it lights her entire face. “You’re actually serious, aren’t you? Challenge me to get your way?”
“It’s not my way, Little Dempsey. It’stheway. You live in SoCal. You are a Team…Girl. You can’t say no to a challenge.”
Her face softens when Ialmostcall her a Team guy.
“Fine,” she counters. “Give me a shirt or something to put on over this.”
I nod at the dresser. “There should be something in there.” I step back toward the door. “Meet you out back.”
As she rifles through a drawer, she looks over her shoulder. “Hey, Hart.”
I raise both brows to acknowledge her.
She throws up the bull horns with one hand and yanks a t-shirt out with her left.
Grinning, I swallow hard and close the door behind me.
Marley bounds down the marble staircase toward me, a towel clutched in her hand. “Did she find the suit?”
I nod.
“Does it fit?”
I shrug, avoiding eye contact.
Marley whacks me in the shoulder. “What is wrong with you, doofus?”
“Nothing! She’s getting dressed now. How am I supposed to know if it fits? I’m not her goddamn personal shopper.” My tone is coiled, and Marley senses the unease. She has no clue where it stems from, though.
“Ruff, ruff doggy. You’re in a mood,” Marley sneers, brushing past me to knock on the guest bedroom door. “Aarabelle, let me know if you need anything.”
A faint response billows to the hallway, but I can’t determine what she said. It’s a large room. Marley’s long dark hair is dripping on the marble in front of the door and I want to go postal, but I also want to be cool right now.
“She’s fine. I got it.”
I lift my shirt over my head when my sister eases her way back to the staircase. Stooping down, I use my shirt to mop up the water drips. Aarabelle opens the door and looks down at me. “Where are your clothes?” she asks.
Standing to my full height, I show her my wet shirt. Her eyes are at chest level and she tilts her chin up to meet my eyes. “Where areyourclothes?” I counter, letting my gaze dart to her bikini bottoms on full display. She covered her top with a shirt that isn’t quite long enough.
“Marley made a mess. I didn’t want you to slip,” I add, tossing the shirt up in the air once and catching it. “Marble makes for bloody falls.”
