"No." The word was out of his mouth before he even had a chance to process saying it.
"Vell, then do not make mess for me to clean." Babushka made big eyes at him. "Or you vill get my help."
"That’s it?" he asked because knowing Babushka there was no way that was it. "You’re just going to leave us alone?"
"Unless you make mess." She folded her hands together. "I have other project at the moment vith my last single grandson. But after that is done, you are next on the list." She gave a pointed look to Darla. "If you are still lonely."
He had a thought that maybe he should warn Babushka’s last single grandson. But then he decided it was best to keep his nose out of things that didn’t concern him. Especially if it meant she was too busy with someone else to stick her nose in his business.
Babushka’s friend, Betty Jane, held up her cell phone, stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth as though she were thinking so hard it was breaking her brain, and started tapping at the screen. She didn’t point the phone at Mach, though. Instead, she pointed the camera at Darla.
Then the telltale sound of a camera shutter made Mach cringe.
Darla paled, looking as though she wanted to sink into the depths of the water away from all cameras. He understood that, given she was in her skivvies in the water and her face was already everywhere.
Mach snatched his towel on his way to Betty Jane. He kept his stride light and arranged his expression to one of humor. He tied the towel low on his hips.
Betty Jane’s gaze trailed there, as he’d known it would.
"Whatcha doin’?" he asked.
"It’s for my Insta. Gonna pin it to the top." Betty Jane was all kinds of smiles.
"You know the rule. No pictures in the pool." He flashed the aw-shucks grin that usually worked in situations where he needed things to go his way. "Let’s delete that one, yeah?"
If it didn’t work, he’d have to find a second option because that photo wasn’t leaving the property—digital or otherwise.
Betty Jane only tittered a tiny bit when she handed him the phone. Thank fuck, it worked. A few swipes to delete the image and he glanced back to Darla, mouthing, "It’s gone."
The brief nod of acknowledgment and the way Darla’s expression warmed had him wanting more of that. Assurance that he’d done a good thing, and she liked it.
"I see you vill not make mess," Babushka declared, like she was his proud Russian grandma. "You vill do vell."
Darla moved to the stairs, and Mach met her with one of the fluffy white towels he usually saved for himself.
She pulled it around her shoulders.
He didn’t mean to linger on the slope of her neck or the way it met her collarbone in a delicious invitation that made him ache to kiss her there.
The older women were all jumping into the pool like they were forty years younger. Blessedly distracted by the lure of the water.
"So theLately, Later Show?" Darla asked, glancing up to him under her umbrella of blonde lashes. Totally oblivious to the way she made him twist into knots. "We’re going to do that?" she continued.
"Your call." It seemed risky to put her more out there when she didn’t want to be in the lens to begin with. Yet he trusted Courtney and Hans implicitly.
"You think it’s the right thing?" she asked, collecting her clothing and shoes.
He loved that she asked him. Wanted his opinion about this.
Of note, Babushka was absolutely eavesdropping on their conversation and not even trying to hide her interest.
He didn’t care.
This wasn’t about Babushka, so with a nod to her, he led Darla back to the house.
"It’s live, Mach. They recordLately, Laterlive," Darla said, to him but also to herself. Because there would be no do-overs if she fudged it.
"I know. Live brings a certain level of bullshit. But I still think it’s a solid option." A safe answer without requiring him to fully commit. Since this was the first time since dinner that the air between them seemed to lighten. He didn’t want to mess that up.
