I could see Canyon and Troy already running for my door in swim trunks and with their goggles already on. They both had a wadded-up beach towel under their little arms.
Jules was still at her car pulling out a beach bag.
I flung the door open wide so that they didn’t have to knock and held out my fist for a knuckle punch.
“Mom said you have a pool?!” Canyon asked for confirmation.
“Yupp, straight through the house to the backyard. I have an important job for you two though, c’mere.”
They looked at each other in question and then followed me over to my living room closet.
I took two superjet water guns out and handed them to the boys.
They looked at me in awe and cheered.
“Now, here’s the challenge,” I told them seriously. “You want to soak the shi- wups- crap out of Max an Smitty, but you don’t want to get the ladies. Ladies get real mad when you mess up their hair and makeup, make sure you remember that,” I told them.
They both nodded vigorously and were practically jumping out of their skin with excitement.
“Go get ‘em, boys!” I yelled as they scampered off. I looked up to see Jules enter through the door then.
She looked effortlessly beautiful, with her hair piled up in a messy bun, a t-shirt that said hockey mom, cut-off shorts that showed off her toned and impossibly long legs for such a short girl, and some white vans tennis shoes.
“Wow, you’re already stirring up trouble, aren’t you, Mr. Scott?” Jules asked me with a smirk.
I was about to say something smartass back, but I noticed the container she was carrying.
“No way!”
She laughed and her face turned a cute shade of pink, “missed my brownies?”
“Oh my God. Can I have one right now? These are all mine right?”
She giggled as I took the container from her and easily lifted the beach bag off her shoulder and transferred it to mine. Her brownies were like crack to me as a teen. Loved them.
I ripped open the container and shoved a whole one in my mouth.
“Damn” I said with closed eyes, savoring it. Realizing what a weird ass I was being, I flashed my eyes open to look at her, but her eyes just twinkled with amusement.
“You have a beautiful house,” she said, craning her neck to look around a bit.
The word beautiful was meant for her. But I didn’t want to say it and scare her away. We were on shaky ground, and I didn’t know where I stood with her. The look she’d given me in her kitchen was still burned into my mind.
So instead, I cleared my throat and asked, “Want a tour?”
She nodded shyly.
I set her stuff down and reached for her hand. Unnecessary, but I needed to touch her. Just holding her hand made me feel like a fricken teenager. My heart was beating faster from the combination of nerves and hope.
I led her through my kitchen, which was still pretty empty, but I was a fan of the exposed brick.
I had only been here a couple of weeks and this was the first time I was actually settling down in a place. I wanted to get it right; to make it feel like home. I was kind of anxious to show her because I stupidly had this hope that she’d like it here.
I led her downstairs, which I had recently started working on. I framed some of my old jerseys and set it up to look like a mini movie theater complete with a dozen recliners and a huge screen. I topped it off with a pool table and air hockey table in the corners of the room.
She looked around with wide eyes, “Wow, this looks great. Canyon is going to be super jealous.” Her voice was laced with awe and I couldn’t help but feel a little proud at my homemaking skills.
“He’ll approve? I was thinking of having the whole team over before I have to cover the pool for the season.”
