Page 138 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
“I’m so sandy,” she complains, running her fingers through her hair. “And sore. I think I pulled something at the beach.”
“Where?” I ask, sitting up with interest. “I could take a look. I’m practically a medical professional.”
She gives me a look. “You play hockey. That doesn’t make you a doctor.”
“I’ve had a lot of sports injuries. I know about muscle strains.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m sure your examination would be very thorough.”
“Extremely thorough.”
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling, which I count as progress. “I should probably shower. Get all this sand and sunscreen off.”
“I could assist with that.”
“You could assist with a lot of things. Doesn’t mean you should.”
But her smile gives her away. There’s something different about the way she’s looking at me now, post-fight and post make up. Like she’s decided to stop overthinking everything and just let herself want what she wants.
“Actually,” I say, remembering something the villa host mentioned during the tour, “there’s a hot tub on the upper deck. Might be good for those sore muscles.”
Her eyes light up. “Now you’re talking.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re slipping into the bubbling water, the night air cool against our damp skin. Wren groans as she settles back against the jets, her legs floating over mine under the water.
“Okay, this was a good idea,” she admits.
“I have them occasionally.”
“Very occasionally.”
I slide my hands up her calves, massaging the muscles there. “Better?”
“Mmm.” Her eyes drift closed. “That’s nice.”
“Just nice?”
“Don’t fish for compliments, Haart.”
But she’s relaxing under my touch, the tension from our earlier fight finally leaving her shoulders. We sit in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the heat and the bubbles and the fact that we’re alone. Really alone.
“So,” I say eventually, “on a scale of one to ten, how much did you hate parasailing?”
“Before or after I stopped thinking I was going to die?”
“After.”
She considers this. “Maybe a seven. The view was incredible.”
“Just the view?”
“Well, the company wasn’t terrible, either.”
“High praise from Wren Rustin.”
She opens her eyes and looks at me. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late. I’m already planning our next adventure.”
