Page 90 of Wild Catch
“Anyway, is there anywhere we can put our things so we can change? We’re so sweaty and gross,” Rose says.
She’s not gross though. That sheen of sweat on her skin is doing me in.
“Right here. Scoot over, Cade.” The guy grunts but sits up so that his girlfriend can sit between his legs, freeing the other pool chair for us.
“Perfect.” Rose turns to me, still grabbing my hand. “Logan, unload.”
I mumble, “Yes, ma’am.” Releasing her, I take the backpack off and dump it on the damp chair.
With a tug, the knot at the front of the jersey comes off and she removes it, tossing it over the backpack. I watch as she unbuttons her shorts. Of course, that’s what was going to happen next. Of course. And somehow I’m transfixed as she reveals a matching bikini bottom, which as far as it goes, isn’t even the most revealing kind.
And yet I’m still roaring on the inside.
I manage a heavy swallow.
“Cat got his tongue,” Hope whispers none too softly, considering that there are squealing kids on the shallow end of the pool, pop music blares from speakers somewhere, and dozens of voices surround us.
“No,” Starr says with laughter in his voice. “I think he just swallowed it.”
Their observations—wholly accurate as they are—remind me that I need to freaking behave. I grit my jaw and bend down to undo the straps of my boots. I need that dip in the pool right yesterday. It’s getting urgent.
“Need help with sunblock?” Hope asks.
“No,” says Rose. “We were riding the bike so I put it on at home.”
Damn it. I’d have liked to lather her up?—
No, stop this shit, you jerk.
I chuck my boots under the pool chair, my socks balled up inside of them. Then I make quick work of peeling off my shirt and removing my cargo pants. I’m also wearing my swimming trunks already, and I barely stop to say, “Going for a swim. Later.”
I don’t even care where my clothes fall, or that the poolside concrete is hot enough to burn. I speed walk toward the shower for a quick rinse. The water feels absolutely freezing against my skin, which is good. I need that. In fact, an ice bath would be way better.
“Wait for me!”
I rake my hair away from my face and sure enough, that’s Rose jogging over to me.
“Stop!” I raise my palm up. She all but screeches to a halt. “Walk slowly.”
“What, why?” Lowering her head, she looks all around her. “Is it slippery?”
“No.” I clear my throat and jerk my chin at her. “Your, uh—your chest.”
We stare at each other, her blinking really hard. She wraps her arms around herself slowly. “I guess this may not have been the best choice of swimsuit.”
I grunt. It’s a heart attack waiting to happen, that’s what it is.
I step away from the shower and motion at her to take it. And because I have zero trust in that top, I stand guard in case any perv is waiting to see if the shower will induce a wardrobe malfunction. No one’s paying attention to us, though.
Unfortunately, now Rose is wet when she stands next to me again. I’m sure I’ll never be able to function in front of her again.
“Shall we?” she asks, pointing at the deep end that is clearer of people. “Let’s see who can make the biggest splash!” Her sentence ends in a squeal as she launches herself into the water.
Thirteen out of ten splash. When she emerges wiping water off her face, I note that her top is still in place. If that didn’t send it flying, nothing will. My lungs start working again.
I pump my legs a few times and land the biggest cannonball in history. This pool is way deeper than I expected and it takes a moment to pull myself up. Rose’s body underwater brands itself into my mind before I break the surface. Ironically, my hair tie was defeated by the cannonball and now my hair is everywhere.
“That was amazing,” she’s giggling. “I think you splashed even the roof of the house.”
