Page 79 of Play Me
I laugh. “You mean you don’t anymore?”
“Maybe not today,” she says, fighting a grin.
We round a large pine tree, and the water comes into view. It’s a bit wider and deeper here than in most places. A handful of trees have fallen in the vicinity, and by the looks of the rope swing hanging off a limb and the leaf litter covering the picnictable we hauled down here as teenagers, it doesn’t look like Hartley comes back here anymore.
“This is beautiful,” she says, hopping out with her water bottle in hand. “Wow, Gray.Look at this place.”
I shut the engine off and climb out, too. “Do you like it?”
“What’s not to like?”
“We used to hang out here all summer. Mom or Cathy would pack us a picnic basket and a cooler full of lemonade, and we’d bring a little radio that I got one Christmas. We’d swim and shoot the shit. It was a good time.”No, it was the best time.
I let my gaze roam around the land, chastising myself for not truly appreciating life here. Sure, I have great memories with my family, and Brooks and I had a ball, but I had one foot out the door from as far back as I can remember. I was convinced the small-town life wasn’t for me.
But I’ve seen the world now and all it has to offer. And, while I’ve had a lot of experiences—both good and bad—I realize it’s not for me, either. I’ve pondered whether coming back home would make me feel like a failure or inadequate in some way, or if Hartley would have feelings about me coming and going as I see fit. But being here? It’s the most contentment I’ve had in a long fucking time.
Astrid peers off the edge of the embankment into the water. “It sounds magical.”
“They write about this in books. I could suggest some, if you’d like.”
She glares at me playfully before turning back to the water again. “There are little fishes. Look at that.”
“There’s a heron on your right just upstream.”
“I can’t get over this,” she says, looking toward the bird. “Is that a rope swing?”
I nod. “Yeah. This is one of the only places in the area where it’s deep enough for that kind of thing. The water pools here and gets lazy instead of flowing steadily.”
“One of my childhood dreams was to use a rope swing. I saw one on—ah!”
Astrid’s foot catches on an exposed tree root and slips out from beneath her. In slow motion, she falls forward, eyes wide, hair trailing behind her, and water bottle pressed to her chest.
She lands with a thud.
“Are you okay?” I ask, racing to her side and kneeling beside her. “Does anything hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” She groans, turning onto her side and looking up to me with gold-flecked eyes. The crushed plastic water bottle squeaks as she moves off it. “Nothing besides my pride, anyway.”
I brush a lock of hair off her cheek, my knuckles swiping against her smooth skin, and a zing of heat rips through me. It doesn’t stop until it reaches my toes. Her gaze pierces mine as her lips part, and I can’t help but wonder if she felt that, too.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask as she sits up.
“Yeah.” She glances down at the front of her shirt. It’s soaked from the water that was in her hand, and a dark smudge streaks down the right side of her chest. She groans again. “Oh, great. What is that? Mud?”
I shove my tongue in my cheek and decide if I should tell her that the streak isn’t from mud.
Astrid pulls the fabric away from her body, giving me a clear view of the tops of her round tits.
Heat creeps up my neck as I try to look away. Suddenly, she’s not a shrew, and she’s not the woman I work with. She’s a verifiable fox. I can’t stop myself from imagining my hands on her body, her nipples in my mouth, and the sound of her voice as she moans.
“What is that?” she asks with a shrillness to her tone that snaps me right out of my daydream.
“What’s what?”
She points. “That.”
I try my absolute hardest not to laugh. “That? That’s rabbit poop.”
