Page 33 of On His Knees

“I say a lot of things.” I shake my head, flustered. “I can’t believe we’re paying to jump into cold water.” I take the tickets from her and turn them over in my hands. “These were one hundred bucks apiece?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a good chunk of change.” I reach for my wallet. “I’ll reimburse you.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “No, this is o

n me. I like donating to hospitals.” She takes the tickets back and puts them in her purse. “Come on, this is going to be fun.”

“Yeah, it’s right up there with skydiving without a parachute.”

She laughs and slides her arm through mine, leading me around the resort, like she’s already gotten her bearings. Cheers originate in the crowd when we reach the huge pond behind one of the resorts, the ice broken in a large path from the shoreline to the deep middle, to allow us to dunk. People in costume already wait out on the center of the ice, ready to jump.

“Motherfucker,” I whisper, and she nudges me.

“Shh, there are children around.” She tugs on me. “Let’s grab a hot chocolate before things get started.” We move through the crowd, and some of the guests are already in costumes. Nice ones, like famous superheroes, not like my damn donkey. Yeah, I’m really going to make an ass out of myself in more ways than one. Children in wheelchairs, covered in blankets, are sanctioned off to one side, their caregivers and parents with them. They look on with bright eyes, and something inside me softens. Despite that the money raised goes to geriatric care, it’s nice they invite the kids to be judges. Summer was right, they do need fun, and what could be more fun than grown adults dressed up in costumes dunking themselves in freezing water? When I was a kid, I would have found it hilarious. Summer fills two paper cups with hot chocolate and hands one to me. I take a sip and it warms my stomach. If only I could pour it over myself before I take the plunge.

A woman in her midthirties steps up onto a platform and taps on a microphone to draw our attention. “Okay, folks, those participating, go ahead and get your costumes on. Changing rooms are set up in the conference rooms inside, one for the men and one for the ladies.”

“Let’s go,” Summer says, and we follow the chattering crowd into the hotel. Heat blasts over my body in the main lobby, and I carry my costume into the makeshift changing room. Since my costume has enclosed feet, I kick off my shoes and remove my clothes. Dressed only in my boxer shorts I climb into the suit, and zip it up in the back. I put my clothes in one of the cubbies set up along the wall and head back out to the main lobby. Everyone laughs as they walk by me.

“Okay, have your fun,” I grumble, good-naturedly.

Summer finally joins me, dressed in her cute fox costume, with a hoodie and adorable ears. Her legs are bare, save for her knee socks and furry slippers. How she can make that sexy is beyond me.

“You look amazing,” she says.

“I look like a manic-depressive donkey,” I counter.

She wiggles her tail at me. “Do I look foxy?”

“Of course you do, and now I look like an ass with a boner,” I say, and she laughs. Once again I’m laughing with her. Truthfully, it feels good, too long in coming. Granddad was right. I do need to get out more often, inject a little more laughter into my life. But thinking about Granddad brings me back to reality.

“Hey, it’s not so bad,” Summer says, picking up on my mood.

I tug on my long donkey ears. “I’d better win a prize,” I say, and she hooks her arm in mine and leads me outdoors. Hell, I should just come right out and ask her about Granddad. Ask her what her connection to him is, and why he wants to bring her into the family. Maybe Granddad isn’t in love with her. Maybe they have a business arrangement. If that’s the case, then maybe I can have her all to myself.

What the fuck am I saying?

Even if I am right, and Granddad isn’t in love with her, we could never be together. If she ever found out the real reason I came here, she’d hate me, and I wouldn’t blame her. When this week is over, I need to let her go. I’ll only hurt her more if I don’t. Better to make a clean break.

We reach the pond and line up on the ice. The first jumper half runs and pretty much does a belly flop. He howls and water sprays up and splashes the kids. They laugh and clap. The man swims to shore, stands up and spreads his arms wide, amping up the crowd for more cheers.

“Someone is going to have a heart attack,” I say.

“You know, circulation can actually take a boost, going from cold to hot. With the cold the flow is directed inward, with the hot it’s directed outward, and it makes circulation move like an accordion.” She moves her hands, mimicking the movement of the instrument.

“Where does the hot water come in?”

“My suite. My hot tub.”

I stand there, watch a few more people jump in until I’m in the front of the line. Summer tugs on my ears. “Looks like you’re up.”

“Oh, I’m up all right. I’ve been up since I saw you in that costume.”

I glance at her and her eyes light, her bottom lip between her teeth, the look so adorable and sexy my pulse jumps. It’s clear that she loves when I say things like that to her. She loves being the center of my attention. I guess I’m honest enough to admit I like being the center of her attention, too. And in bed, when she worships my cock, fuck, a guy could get used to something like that.

I wave to the kids, who are all cheering me on. “Want to see a donkey do a cartwheel into the water?” I ask, and they laugh. I run forward—the snow-packed surface of the ice isn’t too slippery—and demonstrate the world’s worst cartwheel as I hurtle myself into the frigid water. Jesus H. Christ. It’s cold. I clamp my mouth shut before I shout a string of obscenities. There are children nearby, after all. The cold water sinks into the suit as I dunk. I swim back to shore, find my footing and stand, lifting my arms for more cheers, despite my frozen balls.

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