I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him back to me. He presses his mouth to mine and with the taste of his lips, the feel of his breath, everything seems perfect. Suddenly he sits up, his hand comes to my cheek, where he cups my face for a long moment, and then just stands up.
"Where are you going?" I protest.
With a sexy grin he says, "I have to finish cleaning up."
I pout my lips. I wasn't done kissing him.
He laughs. "I'm getting too turned on sitting here like this, but if you want to help me, we could finish a hell of a lot faster and start on one of those lessons."
I giggle. "Nah, I'm good."
He slips his Rolling Stones T-shirt off and tosses it at me. "It's hot out here." He grabs the broom and walks back over to the shattered green glass.
My eyes scan his perfect back-the way his muscles flex and move with every sweep of the broom, the way his skin glistens in the sunlight. "I know exactly what you're up to and it's not going to work."
He smiles darkly. "Oh you have no idea what I'm up to. Trust me." He winks before turning back around. Bending over, he attempts to push the glass into the dustpan with the broom. He manages to get about a quarter in each time and the more I watch the more I feel bad. He really could use some assistance. I finally stand up and walk over to help him.
When I'm standing next to him, I place my hands on my hips and let out a deep exaggerated sigh. "Hand me the broom and I'll sweep the glass into the dustpan."
His eyes peer up at me as a smirk crosses his face. "You sure?"
I nod my head and his smirk grows wider.
But instead of handing me the broom he drops it to the ground and lunges forward to hoist me over his shoulder.
"Put me down! What are you doing?"
"Lesson number one, beautiful girl-never feel sorry for the person who looks incapable of cleaning up because more than likely it's just a big act." And with that, he tosses me into the pool.
Surfacing, I sputter water out of my mouth and yell, "You suck."
"No, I'm just good," he says smugly.
When I reach the side and look into his seemingly content eyes I have to agree, "Yeah, you are good."
He strides toward me, reaching his hand to help me out. "You mean you're finally admitting it?"
"I guess I am."
***
After stripping off my wet clothes, I threw his T-shirt on and left him to finish cleaning up. With wet hair, I'm sitting at the breakfast bar in nothing but his shirt, attempting to eat a bowlful of cereal. His mood swings since Ben's reappearance are getting to me. One minute he's happy and normal, like this morning. The next minute he's quiet and distant like dinner last night-or he's angrier than I've ever seen him like our argument last night over Ben's note. Even though we've discussed Ben and I've made my feelings clear, I feel like there's something left unsaid between us, something still lingering between us. But I don't know how to figure out what it is.
Arms tighten around me and River's chest presses against my back. "I'm sorry."
I almost feel like he's apologizing for more than throwing me in the pool, but since I'm not sure where a deeper conversation would lead, I just want to keep the mood light and our tempers even – keeled.
I swivel around and run my fingertips up and down his bare chest. Hovering my lips over his ear I whisper, "Never apologize for winning, because paybacks are a bitch."
Kissing me on the lips, he shrugs as he walks into the kitchen. "Paybacks sound like fun to me."
I follow him and pour my cereal down the drain. I haven't had much of an appetite the last few days and the bowl of Wheat Chex did nothing to increase it.
He takes the box of Cheerios out and sets it on the counter. "Not hungry again?"
I sigh a little. "No, not really."
Turning around, I lean against the sink and catch him shooting me a concerned look. He opens the cabinet to get out a bowl. I can't keep all of this bottled up so I take a deep breath and grab on to the edge of the counter as I let it out. "Can I ask you something?"
Leaving the bowl on the counter, he twists to look at me. The intensity in his eyes makes me want to escape this conversation. "You know you can."
"Why did you fire Caleb?"
He doesn't hesitate to answer. "Do you want to know what I told myself was the reason then or the real reason?"
"Both."
He says, "We didn't need him anymore since . . . ," he stops as if unable to say why.
I finish the sentence for him. "They caught the asshole who attacked me."