Lulu:Oh no. Not the ducks. How will I ever recover?
Me:You’ll survive
Lulu:Don’t worry, Pookie. I’ll save you a floatie.
My jaw flexes, but the corner of my mouth betrays me, tugging upward again, because all I can see is Lulu in the sun, skin glowing, smile wicked.
Waiting for me.
Chapter nineteen
Tease me all you want with this floating circus
Lulu
The sound of water slapping against tile drifts up the side of the pool. I push my sunglasses higher on my nose, stretch out on the flamingo’s ridiculous pink back, and let the sun drench me.
Flamingo Lagoon 2.0 is officially thriving. Unicorn float and pizza slice to accompany Flashy Flamingo and Serious Swan, a flamingo drink holder balanced with my umbrella-clad soda, and the full marching band of rubber ducks lined up with their Sharpie-scribbled jersey numbers.
And me, dead center. Queen of the circus.
The back doors swing open, and I hear heavy footsteps, followed by a muttered curse.
I tilt my head lazily, smirk already tugging.
Logan fills the patio, duffel dropped at his feet, hair still damp from a shower. Hoodie, athletic shorts, that broad frame taking up all the space in the world. He stops dead, taking in the unicorn, the ducks, me.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
I wave from my throne. “Welcome home, Pookie. Flamingo Lagoon’s thriving.”
His gaze drags over my bare skin, my yellow bikini, the one leg trailing in the water. I watch as his jaw flexes, eyes going darker.
“Tease me all you want with this floating circus, Lu,” he says, voice low enough to curl heat down my spine. “Just know I’m gonna wipe that smirk off your face before you leave this pool.”
My toes curl against the flamingo plastic, but I push my shades up my nose, feigning boredom. “Big talk for a guy standing all the way over there.”
His mouth twitches. “Come here, then.”
I hum and tilt my head. “Why?”
“Because I told you to.”
I laugh, bright and sharp. “That’s cute. But Flashy Flamingo and I have an understanding. I stay here; it keeps me afloat. Very symbiotic.”
“Lulu.” His voice dips into a warning.
“Logan.” I mimic his tone, grinning.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “You really want me to come get you?”
I kick one leg, splashing a little arch of water onto the concrete toward him.
“Do your worst.”
For a second, he just stares, then the hoodie comes off, dropped onto the pool chair with a thud. He steps out of his slides, peels his socks, and kicks them aside.
I sit up straighter. “You wouldn’t.”
