Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I sat down on my lounger, but he turned and walked over to a family sitting a few loungers down and asked them a question. They nodded and pointed to an orange raft lying to the side of them. Carson picked it up and started walking back toward me calling behind him, “Thanks! I’ll return it.”
Then he took my hand and pulled me up. “Wait! I thought we were going to lay in the sun for a little while before going in the water.”
“Who said that? There wasn’t a plan. We do what we do when we wanna do it, remember? And right now, I wanna swim with you.”
“Okaaay. Well, what if I don’t want to swim right now?”
“Then I do this.” And then he dropped the raft and picked me up and tossed me right in the water.
I came up sputtering, madder than a hatter. The water was only about as high as my shoulders where he had tossed me and so I stood up, glaring at him as he grinned at me from the side of the pool. “I cannot believe you just tossed me in the pool!”
“Well, believe it. I did,” he said, not remorseful in the least. He threw the raft in the water and then walked his perfect body to the deeper end and executed the most perfect dive I’d ever seen, slicing straight through the water. Oh. Well that was hot. Why is he good at everything?
Before I could barely blink, he had swum underwater to me and was pulling me down by my legs. I opened my eyes under the water, making my most angry face at him as he met my eyes and grinned. God damn him, he was even beautiful underwater, with air bubbles coming out of his nose.
He let go of me and I surfaced, smoothing my hair back. He surfaced a second later laughing and pushing his wet hair back out of his face. “Don’t be mad, buttercup. I just couldn’t wait to get slippery again with you.”
I glared at him for another second, but I couldn’t maintain my anger at him, as he gave me that innocent expression, water droplets sticking to his impossibly long eyelashes.
I shook my head, my lips tipping in a smile. “You really are an asshole. I can’t believe you threw me in the pool. No one has ever thrown me in a pool.”
He pulled my body to his and swirled us around in the water. “That’s a shame. You’re so pretty soaking wet.” He leaned in and kissed me lightly on my lips, and then kissed each of my eyes and then my nose. Okay, he was forgiven.
“You’re a really good swimmer,” I noted.
“When you grow up in hotels and cheap apartments, all with pools, you tend to spend a lot of time perfecting your swim strokes.” He paused. “I didn’t have much else to do. Some kids play basketball. I swam.”
I studied him from this close vantage point. When he wasn’t smiling, there wasn’t even the barest sign of that dimple. It was like a little secret. Happiness just under his skin. “I guess I was under the impression that because your mom was…famous…that you had money.”
“It’s hard to keep much when you spend almost everything you have on nonprescribed prescription drugs. And I know I used the word ‘famous’ before, but I would probably say ‘well-known’ is a better term. But in the business, that doesn’t always translate into ‘well paid.’ It just means she was willing to do things others weren’t.”
I stared at him, a pinching sensation in my chest. What must it have been like for a little boy to know what his mom was doing every time she went off to a job like that? My own mom had been emotionally unavailable for most of my life, and that had hurt. Sometimes it still did. But I forgave her because her pain stemmed from a terrible tragedy that she hadn’t been responsible for. I wondered what complex emotions Carson felt about his own mother’s choices. Stop, Grace. You’re only going to know him for another day or so. And the more I wondered, the more attached I’d get.
I changed the subject. “Why’d you borrow that raft?” I asked, nodding my head toward where it was floating nearby.
“Because I want to prove a point,” he said, letting me go before swimming to it and pulling it back to me.
“Oh God, is this part of your Titanic therapy?” I asked. “Listen, I’m not a professional. And I really think this requires someone board certified.”
He winked. “Never let go, baby. Come on, work this through with me. I need you, Grace.”
I laughed. And then we spent the next half an hour trying to get us both up on that narrow raft without tipping over. Every time he rolled off, he would sink under, holding one hand up in his imitation of a human popsicle. I was laughing so hard my face hurt.