“Just a hunch.” He shrugs. “Since I am your boyfriend and all.”
Crossing my arms, I tip my chin up. “Sorry to disappoint you, Brendan. But anything I say while sleeping cannot be held against me. I have a very active imagination.”
I straighten my shoulders, spinning on my heel to head for the bathroom so I can lock myself inside.
“Just for the record,” he calls through the door. “I’ll be waiting for you to prove me wrong.”
By the time I reach the pool, Brendan is already swimming laps, looking like some kind of Olympic showoff. The muscles in his back are slick with water, rippling with every stroke as he effortlessly crosses the pool. The sight of him leaves me all fluttery inside. Between his fluid movements and his sculpted upper body, I’m clearly going to be a joke next to him.
I really should leave before he catches me blatantly staring.
I turn to sneak out, but he swims to the edge of the pool and pops his head up, water dripping down the rounded edges of his shoulders as he slicks back his hair.
“Hey, you’re finally here.”
Whoa.He looks like an absolute snack.
Instead of his usual stern expression, he looks pleased. It’s an oddly satisfying change to see him let his guard down.
“I think I…forgot something in my room.” I point somewhere vaguely in the direction of our room before turning to go.
“Are you trying to get out of this?” he calls after me. “Because all you really need is a swimsuit, and even that’s optional.” I whirl around just in time to catch the corner of his mouth tilting.
“I’m not here to skinny-dip, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“I wasn’t suggesting anything. Just making sure you weren’t leaving.”
Dang, he’s good.I’m going to have to come up with much more convincing excuses if I want to avoid him from now on.
He folds his forearms on the pool edge, giving me a perfect view of the tattoo on his forearm. It looks like a rose, with a tiny script underneath. He doesn’t seem like the flower-tattoo type, which makes me curious about the story behind it. Maybe it’s for an ex-girlfriend—someone from his Marine days.
He shifts his arms, hiding the tattoo.
“You’re killing it swimming solo. I’d hate to mess up your rhythm,” I say, making no move to remove my cover-up. It’s safer up here. “I’ll just supervise from the pool deck.”
“Someone looks like they need to get in the pool,” he says, then waits for my next move. “Unless they want to be thrown in.”
“Brendan Marco, you wouldn’t dare.”
“Remember back when you’d refuse to get in the ocean?” He lifts himself out of the pool, every muscle flexing impressively.
“That was different.” I’m suddenly concerned that he’s actually serious. “The ocean can be freezing!”
“Good thing this isn’t the ocean, then.” He starts toward me and I suddenly panic that he’s not kidding.
“Wait—” I back up, wondering if I can make it to the door before he can. “We’re not in high school anymore…”
He ignores my pleas, just like when he’d scoop me off my beach towel and carry me into the waves.
He stops directly in front of me, and I track a droplet of water making a path down his abs.
“We’re friends, right?” I say, part challenge, part plea. “And I’m pretty sure there’s a rule that says friends don’t throw friends in the pool.”
“Hmm,” he says, his face thoughtful. “I think the friend code actually requires it.”
I switch tactics and paste on an innocent smile. “I’ll take off my cover-up over here, then.” I point at the pool chair, pretending to sidestep before I turn to run. But he anticipates my escape and catches me in his arms before I make it six feet. He scoops me up while I flail helplessly against his wet body.
“Okay, I’ll get in!” I shout. “Just put me down.”