But there was no one quite like Folk either. Not even Saint was batshit enough to jump off a cliff.
Folk wrung his T-shirt out over the pool and hung it on a rock.
That left him in wet cargo shorts.
He emptied his zipped-up pockets. Bike keys and a phone protected by the same waterproof case as Rubi’s. Then he slid into the pool and swam to where we stood, beckoning Ivy forward. “Show me.”
Ivy let go of my hand, not sparing me a glance before she trustingly stepped into Folk’s arms.
He lowered her into the cold pool.
She squeaked but styled it out, treading water like a pro the second Folk let her go. “See? I can do it.”
Folk appraised her. “Your face is dry, bug.”
“That’s how I swim.”
“No, it isn’t.” I set our bag down and yanked my boots off. “Ives, you can put your face in the water. You do it in the bath.”
Ivy glared. At me. She wanted her goggles, but as I’d predicted, her mile-wide stubborn streak prevented her from asking for them, and this was somehow my fault.
Folk checked in with me, silently asking permission to rectify a situation he’d probably never imagined his death-defying leap was gonna land him in.
I shrugged.Have at it. I could swim well enough, but Ivy was an impatient beast who knew how to press my buttons. Teaching her to tie her own laces had damn near killed me.
Folk chucked me a bone in the form of a dazzling grin. Then he guided Ivy out to deeper water.
I kept my eyes on them as I stripped down to my swimming shorts. Because I wanted to more than I needed to. If I didn’t trust Folk with Ivy, I had no business picturing him naked all the time. Or something. There was a rule there somewhere; I was sure of it.
And I did trust him. Even when he took his gaze off my kid to briefly look my way and run his tongue along his busted bottom lip. A split second in time that made me feel ten feet tall, because it set me on fire to know he had those little moments too. The ones where I caught sight of him and the world stopped, and I was nothing but the primal reaction my body had to his.
I came to the water’s edge as Folk and Ivy dunked themselves beneath the surface. I expected them to pop right back up.
They didn’t.
They swam halfway across the pool before Ivy reappeared, spluttering for breath, her grin so big it was a wonder her face was still whole. “Daddy, I swam underwater!”
“You did. I saw.”
“Without goggles.”
“Because you’re a mermaid,” Folk said from behind her. “Ariel doesn’t wear goggles either.”
Ivy laughed and dove underwater again.
Seconds later, she popped up at my dangling feet. “See, Daddy? Told you I was like Ariel.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“That time you fell asleep on the sofa after dinner.”
“Like that narrows it down.” I slid into the pool, the cool seawater a balm to my overheated blood. “I always fall asleep after dinner.”
Folk splashed my face. “Getting old?”
