A minute passes. Two. The sky shifts from copper to rose. I catch myself listening for the screen door and realize I'm nervous. The kind where something matters enough that the possibility of it not happening sits in your stomach like a stone.
She might not come.
She might have gotten inside and let the doubt win and decided that getting into a hot tub with me was one step furtherthan she was ready to take. And if she did, that's fine. That's her call. I meant what I said about best behavior.
But I want her to come.
The screen door opens.
Maya comes around the corner of the cabin walking like someone who has made a decision and is not entirely certain it was the right one. White fluffy robe pulled tight. Bare feet on the cold deck, quick steps. Hair piled up in a messy knot that exposes the full line of her neck and I lose the ability to form sentences.
She stops at the edge of the deck. Looks at the water. Looks at me. Her cheeks are already pink, and she hasn't even gotten in yet.
I open my mouth to ask if she needs help. Nothing comes out. My throat has apparently decided to participate in the general mutiny happening south of my belt. I clear it. Try again.
"Need a hand getting in?"
She shakes her head. Clutches the robe tighter. "Can you… hum… Close your eyes?"
I move to the far side of the tub, turn my back to her, and close my eyes.
I hear the robe drop, a soft sound of fabric hitting wood. Then the careful sound of her stepping in, one foot, then the other, the water shifting to accommodate her weight.
And then the sound she makes.
A low, involuntary exhalation. Half sigh, half moan, the kind of sound a body makes when heat hits muscles that have been holding tension for longer than they should. It travels through the water and straight through me and any hope I had of controlling the situation below my waistline is gone. Completely, irreversibly gone.
"Okay," she says. Small voice. Shy. "You can look."
I turn around.
She's settled on the opposite seat, water to her collarbones, skin flushed from the heat. Messy knot of dark hair. Grey-green eyes catching the last of the sunset. Lips bitten pink because she can't stop worrying them. She's wearing a white t-shirt that is now wet and clinging to her in ways that the t-shirt did not anticipate when it was manufactured. A bra underneath it, visible through the fabric. What I can see is enough to make my pulse thud hard behind my ribs.
"You don't need to be nervous," My voice is hoarse with desire. "Nothing happens here that you don't want to happen."
She looks at me. Then she looks at the water between us. Then she takes a deep breath in gathering strength.
"Jace. I need to… Reid and I… We, hum…" She stops. Starts again. "This morning, we sort of..."
"I know."
She blinks.
"Maya." I look deep in her eyes, needing her to really understand what I’m saying. "Reid is the most private man alive. He didn't say a word. He doesn't have to. I could see it in both of you this morning, the way you moved around each other. And I'm not upset about it."
"You're not?"
"No."
"But... how? How is that not..."
"Weird? Complicated? Pick your word?"
She nods, fast, like she's been holding the question for hours.
"Reid practically raised me," I say. "He's the reason I'm not in a jail cell or worse. I've watched that man give everything to everyone around him for fourteen years and keep nothing for himself. And this morning he was smiling. Like a normal human being who has something in his life that makes him happy." I hold her gaze. "You think I'd be jealous of that?"
Her eyes are searching and assessing like someone who is hearing a thing she wants to believe and is checking it for traps.
