Still, something niggles away at my brain. Because I’m certain Kenna’s life isnotgood. And one of these days, I hope to find out why.
One of these days.
An hourglass appears in my head, reminding me I don’t have much time. And I don’t like that. Not even a little bit.
Once we’ve handled Kenna and Amelia’s registration, Bug points to the right. “Ladies dressing room is over here.” She turns to Christian. “See you in the deep end!”
The smile sparkling between them is entirely too reminiscent of the way I’ve been looking at Kenna. When my eyes briefly meet hers, I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.
Christian and I head off to change, both of us unusually quiet. Like we’re caught in our own heads. After shoving our clothes in a locker, I grab a few towels on our way out.
“Dad?” Christian says before we reach the pool. “You like her, don’t you?”
I toss one of the towels over my shoulder. “Who?”
He rolls his eyes, which are a lot easier to see since he left his glasses in our locker. “Come on. Really?”
I blow out a long, controlled breath. “Yeah, son. I like her. But I’m trying not to like her too much.”
“Because they’re leaving soon?”
I nod.
“Do they have to leave? Maybe you can ask them to stay. They’re both pretty cool. And I don’t even mind that they would be living in the basement that was meant for me.”
I clasp his shoulder. “That’s mighty generous of you. But I get the idea Kenna’s eager to move on.”
“Mmm, I don’t know, Dad. She seems pretty into you.”
I raise a brow, not sure I want to have this conversation with my teenage kid.
He chuckles. “I’ve seen the looks you give her, and the ones she gives you. I know those looks.”
“Oh, youknowthose looks, do you?” I ask with a playful thwack of a towel against his arm.
“Carter!” a familiar angelic voice squeals behind me.
I turn toward Amelia and the wind gets knocked out of me when I see her mother trailing behind her.Holy shit.I thought she was beautiful before, but this… this has me at a total loss for words. Kenna is wearing a shimmering green string bikini that showcases every single curve of her body.
Her creamy breasts leave little to the imagination now that I can see all but the six inches or so covered by the triangular material that meets in her cleavage with a tiny bow. The curve of her hips give way to shapely abs that hint at the workouts that must be a part of her daily routine. Her skin is pale, a perfect porcelain shade, as if it rarely sees the sun. And her legs… for fucking miles. Jesus, I can’t stop staring, longing to touch every light freckle, trace every curve.
She must be aware of my ogling, as she throws her towel at me and then dives right into the deep end.
I walk over and sit down on the edge, happy for an excuse to hide the half-mast evidence of my arousal.
She breaks through the surface of the water, hair wet, water streaming down her face.
Fuck she’s beautiful.
I close my eyes and focus on anything but how she looks. Because, seriously, now is not the time for a full-on stiffy.
Then something occurs to me. “You can swim?”
“Of course I can swim. It’s Amelia who hasn’t learned yet.”
“I’m surprised your dad let you wear a bathing suit in public,” I tease.
“We’re not Mennonites, Carter. But my bathing suits were always ultra conservative, unlike my peers, which is why I didn’t go swimming all that much.” She hoists herself out of the pool and sits a foot away from me, tugging on the hip tie of her amazing green bikini. “This is actually my very first two-piece.”
