“I don’t have one.”
He disappeared into the closet and returned holding a white robe. “When you have a pool, you accumulate things. Suits, half-empty sunscreen bottles, beach towels. We could open a store.”
When she reached for it, he didn’t let go.
“Seems like a crime to cover you in a bikini.”
She gave him a look because that wasn’t happening. “Sorry, handsome. Statute of limitations ran out on me in a bikini years ago.”
His expression sobered. “Who told you that?”
“No one. I’m forty. Which means you get this”—she paused, sweeping her hand down her side—“in a modest one-piece.”
He claimed her space. “I’ve been picturing it in my mind since we left this morning. Not a one-piece. And definitely not modest.”
She patted his chest. “You’ll survive.”
His hand caught hers before she could pull away, holding it there a second longer. “True. Because there’s always after.” He bent and brushed her lips with his. “I’m going to check in with Justin while you change.”
She tipped her head slightly. “Who?”
“O’Reilly,” he said, already pulling his phone from his pocket.
“Ah, so he does have a first name.”
A corner of his mouth lifted as he scrolled. “He claims to hate it.”
“I rather like it,” she said, turning toward the hall. “Makes him seem less cocky.”
“That’ll happen. Maybe when he’s forty.”
She tossed an amused look over her shoulder. “Make your call. I’ll be ready when you’re through.”
Erica walked away, still smiling. Being with him like this felt wonderfully domestic. And real.
***
Coop came out of the cottage, the late-afternoon heat settling over him as the scent of grilled meat drifted across the yard. The fountain in the pool burbled steadily, his dad’s way of keeping the water cool in summer.
From the rustle of fabric, the shift of air as she moved, the light scent of lavender, he sensed Erica before he saw her. When she came alongside him, she took a breath, a bit unsteady.
His hand found hers. “Don’t be nervous. This is just family.”
She looked up at him. “There’s no such thing as just family, which is why I’m nervous.”
He understood. With her upbringing, her nervousness made sense. This was foreign territory, and she wanted to make a good impression. She needn’t worry, though. She already had.
“I can’t believe you convinced me to have dinner with your parents, half dressed.”
His gaze dipped. The cover-up concealed her suit, except for a black shadow beneath the fabric. He’d teased her about a bikini earlier, but the truth was simple: anything on her would look good.
He dragged his attention to her face before he forgot where they were. “You’re more than decent. And, as always, you look beautiful.” He raised her hand to his lips. “It’ll be fine, but no matter what happens, I’ve got you.”
She looked at him, hazel eyes burning. “Keep it up, and you may earn that bikini.”
He was still grinning when they reached the patio.
His dad stood at the grill, flipping burgers with the same precision and quiet control he brought to the bench.
