His laughter rings out into the afternoon as I jump in.
He was right—the water is perfect. Cool but not too cold. I float on my back and stare at the azure blue sky and allow the peace of the water to wash over me. That is, until I’m doused with water. I splutter as I turn upright, my feet hitting the bottom of the pool.
“Derek!” I splash him back in a move reminiscent of long ago summer days spent at the local pool with friends. “Race you to the other end!” I challenge.
“You’re on!”
We both take off, swimming with all our might to reach the opposite end of the pool, although in all reality it’s barely a few strokes. I touch the edge before him, declaring my victory with a triumphant whoop.
Derek waggles his brows then pushes off the wall with his feet.
We swim for a while longer, floating and circling each other. It brings back happy memories but at the same time, it feels different, as if things have changed.Well, they have.
After some time, we drag ourselves from the water and flop back onto the sun lounges. The scent of chlorine overpowers the aroma of my lemonade, which is now lukewarm. I drink it anyway, swallowing the diluted liquid. We pass the afternoon alternating between swimming, dozing, and conversation. When the sun dips lower in the sky, we finally wander over to the barbecue.
Despite me losing the race to the pool, Derek takes charge of cooking. I watch him as he flips burgers on the grill, his biceps flexing with each turn. The scent of sizzling meat makes my stomach rumble.
“Damn, that smells good,” I comment, trying to focus on the food instead of the man cooking it.
Derek chuckles and shoots me a grin. “You’re easy to please.” He flashes a wink that sends my heart racing.
Before too long, we’re sitting at the table digging into juicy burgers. There’s not much conversation as we chow down. I finally push my plate away with a satisfied groan. “Thanks. It’s great to have someone to cook for me.”
“Anytime,” he says.
“You’d better be careful with what you offer because I might take you up on it.”
Instead of telling me to get stuffed as I expect him to do, Derek only smiles and shrugs, as if he’d be only too pleased to prepare more meals for me. I feel my face heating, and change the subject. “The redecorating, the garden, cooking… Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Give me some time, I’ll think of something.” Derek chuckles. “Actually, there’s one thing I’ve been meaning to get to…converting one of the bedrooms into a home office.”
“Really? That sounds like a great idea.”
“Yeah. I’m trying to work from home a lot more now, so it would be great to have a proper setup. I was thinking of putting in some French doors to open the room onto the patio, make it more inviting, you know? I was wondering if you’d like to give me a hand with it. I can do the decoration, but you’re an expert in all things construction.”
My interest is instantly piqued—not only by the prospect of helping Derek with the project but also by the thought of spending even more time together. “Of course,” I reply without hesitation. “I’d love to.”
“Great,” he says, beaming. “You can make sure I don’t knock out a wall and take the rest of the house down with it. C’mon, I want to show you the room and get your ideas. No time like the present, right?”
I laugh and follow him back into the house, enjoying watching his board short-clad arse as I trail him down the hall. We pass the guest room, entering the next door down. My eyes are glued to Derek as he paces the room, pointing out what he envisages his home office to look like. “Obviously, this is the window where the new French doors need to go.” Then he turns and spreads his arms wide, indicating the far wall. “Along here I’d love somekind of custom cabinetry for storage and some bookcases. What do you think?”
The muscles of his back flex with each movement, his shoulders bunching under what seems like acres of tanned skin. My mouth goes dry at the sight as all my blood rushes south.
“Ryan?”
I raise my eyes to meet his as he looks over his shoulder, brows drawn. “Huh?”
“The cabinetry,” he says as he turns fully around. “Is it something you could manage?”
My gaze drops to his chest, where a smattering of hair dusts over his pecs. The desire to touch him has never been stronger and I pray that he doesn’t notice how turned on I am. I step forward to camouflage the state I’m in, approaching the wall and knocking on it with my knuckles. I cringe inwardly—he must think I’m crazy as I listen for the sound of the stud. “Yea—” My voice cracks. “Yeah, this would work, and you could put your desk over there, making the most of the natural light and avoiding the glare on your screen.”
I give myself a mental pat on the back for sounding somewhat sane with my comments.
Derek grins. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
We spend some time talking through his ideas for flooring, and my suggestions for lighting. By the time we leave the room, I’m on a much more even keel.
Chapter Five
