It’s hard not to eye her up and down again. I follow beads of water streaming down from her hair. They roll down her body at first, then they slow and start dripping onto her legs. When I look back up at her face, I notice that her bikini matches the color of her eyes. Is that a coincidence, or did she plan it that way?
Stop staring.
I turn away and face out into the water. “Well, might I say, bravo.”
When she doesn’t reply, I peek at her to see her entire face and neck have reddened.
“And this is when you compliment mine.” I stand up, hold my arms out, and turn, showcasing my ridiculous Superman swim trunks Christian got me for Christmas a few years back.
When her eyes lower to study them, I have to try really really hard to keep more blood from rushing south. Because having her eyes on me down there is so fucking sexy.
Thankfully, she laughs. Because if she’d have moaned, sighed, or blatantly stared, all bets would have been off.
“Can I jump in to you, Carter?” Amelia asks.
Right. The kids. I almost forgot they were here.
I point to shallower water. “Over there, okay?”
Kenna’s eyes don’t stray from me one single time when Amelia jumps in the water into my arms over and over and over. Kenna never swims laps or interacts with Christian and Bug as they play in the deep end, eventually moving on to his PT in more shallow water. She simply sits on the edge of the pool. Watching. Assessing. And, hopefully… admiring.
Two hours later, Amelia having learned how to hold her breath and kick back to the edge of the pool, we’re all waterlogged and ready to go.
Part of me is disappointed I didn’t have any time to ‘play’ with Kenna in the pool. Then again, it’s probably for the best. My swim trunks can only hide so much.
Back in the car, Christian and Bug fall into quiet conversation, and Amelia almost instantly falls asleep.
“You wore her out,” Kenna says, glancing behind us.
“Ha! She’s the one who wore me out.” I hold up my right arm and shake it out. “My arms feel like jelly. I know she must only weigh thirty pounds or so, but dang.”
Kenna laughs. “I think you caught her a hundred times and tossed her in the air a few dozen more. You’re really strong.”
My inner self pumps a fist.
“Dad, is it okay if Bug stays for dinner?”
“Ah, crap. I probably need to go shopping.” I don’t explain that my cupboards are practically bare as I’ve most definitely been distracted for the past week. “Mind if we stop?”
“I have a better idea,” Kenna says. “How about I cook tonight? I have plenty of food. Consider it my thanks for today.”
A slow smile broadens my face. Breakfast. Swimming. And now dinner. The makings of a perfect day.
“We’d love that.”
She turns to face the back seat again. “You too, Bug. I hope you like chicken noodle casserole.”
~ ~ ~
Earlier, I was sure swimming with Kenna would have topped the list, but now I think cooking dinner with her has surpassed it, becoming my new favorite thing to do. Between the glances, the ‘accidental’ arm brushes, the occasional bumping of hips… my face hurts from smiling so much.
Her hand skims my elbow. “Mind chopping that chicken up into cubes?”
I pull the biggest knife from the block and assume the stance of a Samurai. Her laughter makes the stupidity of the moment all worth it.
The pot with the noodles begins boiling over. Kenna and I reach for the lid at the same time and my hand inadvertently knocks hers right into some of the overspill. She jumps back and grimaces, and I quickly turn down the burner.
“Ah, shit. Are you okay?”
