“Do you want something to drink?” she asks, sounding a little out of breath.
I slow my steps. She’s so much shorter than me, I figure she must be practically running to keep up with my strides. “I’m good.” I glance at her from over my shoulder. “You gonna get your suit on or what?”
She sends me a look as we enter the kitchen. “You’re sort of bossy.”
I don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of being bossy in my life. Stopping at the giant center island, I turn to look at her. “This kitchen is humongous. Do you cook?”
“Uh…” Her expression turns unsure.
“Of course you don’t. You probably have a cook.” I glance around. The kitchen is spotless. Stainless steel appliances, marble countertops, the air quiet and cool. “Is the staff off for the summer?”
She steps toward me, bringing with her the scent of…damn, I can’t place it but she smells fucking amazing. “Let’s go outside,” she suggests brightly.
I follow after her, admiring the swish of her ass beneath those white shorts, the tentative glance she gives me from over her shoulder. Ah, she’s hot. Pretty. Sexy. Kind of shy, when I normally don’t go for that sort of thing. I like them bold and flirtatious and giggly and silly. Not too smart because then they’ll realize I’m an idiot first thing and my cover is blown.
Not that I’m an idiot, not really. But the smart ones have me all figured out. As in, they know I’m not serious about anything. I can’t be.
I can’t afford to be.
She throws open the double French doors that lead to the backyard and walks out into the night, disappearing into a dark corner in the left corner of the patio for a brief moment. I’m about to follow her when the hot tub turns on, the bubbling, frothy water lit from within, the hum of the motor low is almost soothing.
“Go ahead and get in,” she suggests as she snatches her black bikini off of a metal stand that’s close to the hot tub. “Let me go change. I’ll be right back.”
She trots off before I can say anything, heading into what looks like a pool house only a few feet away from the actual pool and shutting the door firmly behind her. I stare after her for a moment, my stance wobbly as I consider chasing after her.
I bet she’d kick my ass if I tried to barge in and catch a glimpse of naked skin. Forget it.
Reaching behind me, I shrug out of my T-shirt and toss it onto the metal stand Lucy just pulled her swimsuit off of and kick off my sliders, then step into the hot tub, the hot water bubbling around my ankles and calves.
Damn, that feels good. I sink into the water, settling on the bench seat and spreading my arms out wide on either side of me, gripping the edge of the tub. I lean my head back and glance up at the sky, noting the stars twinkling down at me.
Hopeful, pretty stars that almost mock me, make me want to wish for a future that I’m in control of. Not going to happen. Never going to happen no matter how much I want to make that untrue. I’m to do what my father tells me, whether I like it or not. He did what his father told him, and my grandfather did what his father said too.
It’s a Walker family tradition. And a big bunch of horseshit.
A door slams and I lift my head, ignoring the wooziness that threatens to swamp me. Lucy is walking toward me, her arms in front of her in a semi-awkward position and I wonder at that. Is she self-conscious? The girl who flaunts that hot-as-sin body for me on a daily basis like she doesn’t have a care in the world? What gives?
Lifting a hand, I wave her over. “Come join me,” I call.
She smiles and stops at the opposite edge of the hot tub, dipping just her toes in. Toes that are painted this vivid bright orange. Toes I want to kiss and suck and lick…
“It’s hot,” she says but that doesn’t seem to stop her. She sinks into the water until it reaches her shoulders, sitting across from me and even though that’s only a few feet, I feel like she’s a few feet too far.
“Feels good.” I keep my gaze on her, noting the unsure expression on her face as she tugs on one of the triangles of black fabric that barely contains her breast. “I’m sorry I was late. Went to a dinner with my parents and their friends.”
“It’s okay.” She shrugs, like it doesn’t bother her anymore, which is good. Most girls want groveling, or for the guy to make it up to them. Usually by way of an expensive gift or another date. “How was dinner?”
I make a face. “Awful. But I don’t really get along with my parents.”
Her jaw drops open. “You don’t?”
“That surprises you? Do you get along with your parents?”
“Most of the time my mom makes me crazy.”
“Exactly. Both of my parents make me crazy.” I lean my head back again, contemplating the stars. “My mom’s pushy. We went to dinner with this other family she just met. They had a daughter a little younger than me.”
“How old are you?” Lucy asks.
“Twenty-one,” I say to the sky. “Anyway, my mother wanted me to pair up with this girl.”
“Oh yeah?” She sounds disinterested and I chance a glance at her, see the way she’s watching me. I don’t think she likes that I’m talking about this, which is good. Real good. It means she might care. At least a little bit.
“Yeah. So I tried to pretend I was into her but I wasn’t.” I look at Lucy, who stares back me, irritation written all over her face. “You want to know why?”
“Why?”