She flicks me on the shoulder. “You like being the one to make the moves, don’t you? You like being the cat who chases the skunk.”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“You don’t know Pepé Le Pew?”
“Pepper what?”
“From Bugs Bunny.”
“I know Bugs Bunny,” I say, remembering watching it on that classic cartoon channel. “Matthew loved Speedy Gonzalez.”
She points at me. “That’s me. Speedy Gonzalez, running from you, the skunk.”
I lift my chin. “Who said I was chasing anything?”
“That’s what I thought,” she says, giving me a little splash.
“Are you drunk?” I ask, because I really can’t tell if she is or not.
She runs her finger through the water. “I’m fluffy. There’s a big difference between drunk and fluffy.”
This makes me grin. “Oh, yeah? What’s the difference?”
“If I were drunk, I couldn’t do this.”
She goes underwater and stands on her hands, holding the position steady. I can’t help myself, so I grab her ankles and tug her body up. She parts her legs and somehow they get wrapped around my waist. I’m honestly not sure if I did it or if she did, but either way, it feels good to have them bound around me. She comes up out of the water, laughing as her legs tighten their grip on my waist.
I can’t help laughing with her. “Definitely drunk,” I say as a tease. I’m not sure a drunk person could have held that handstand like she did.
“I’m not,” she says, resting her hands on my shoulders. “I’m just enjoying myself.” She gazes into my eyes and it’s so tough to read her. She’s not over-the-top flirty like the other girls I’m usually with who give me those unmistakable fuck-me eyes. She genuinely seems to just be having a good time. She hops down off of me and goes over to the side of the pool, checking her cup. “I’ve only had two margaritas. I’d have to be a super lightweight to get drunk off that.”
I run her words from a few minutes back through my head and flick some water at her. “What did you mean by that’s what I thought?” I say.
She finally gives up on her cup and leans against the side of the pool. “You talk a big game, flirting and making these vague suggestions to me, but I bet you anything if I were to pull you into your bed with me tonight, you’d go all gentlemanly on me.”
I have to laugh, the word being so absurd. “Would not.”
“Oh, yes, you would. You’re terrible at this whole bad-boy thing.”
“Bad boy,” I say, shaking my head. I lean back on the side of the pool like I own the place, playing up to this role she’s created for me. Why the fuck not.
“I know your kind,” she says. “Just enough edge to you to make the girls pant. You want them to think you don’t care, but you care.”
I roll my eyes at her, shaking my head like she’s full of nonsense.
“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be sleeping on your couch. You’d be making me sleep there.”
“Who says I slept on the couch? You don’t know where I slept last night.”
“I know you’d love me to think you had some amazing threesome or something. But I know you were probably out helping some old lady cross the street.”
“That would take me all night?”
She gauges me. “You were prepping food in a soup kitchen or making repairs on an old house for someone…building schools for underserved communities.”
“I’m sorry to crush your image of me, but I’ve never done any of those things.”
She points at me. “But you did help a homeless girl who had nowhere to stay. Don’t even try to deny it.”
“I told a hot girl she could sleep in my bed. I’m hardly expecting the medal of honor.”
She smiles at me as she runs her fingers through the water, making little waves.
If this were any other girl, I’d already be in bed with her, but the fact that I’m having more fun than I should right now is a red flag to me that I need to pull back. “Besides, you’re off-limits to me. I couldn’t even hook up with you if I wanted to.”
“If you wanted to, huh?” she says.
“Yeah, if I wanted to.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I work with you.”
She glances around the pool at the people who’ve paired up, several couples—even a threesome looking like it’s getting underway. Damn, this group is like a bunch of rabbits in heat.
“Yeah, because nobody breaks that rule, do they?” She peers around the pool. “What’s going on over there in that grotto?”
She doesn’t give me a chance to answer, just ducks under the water and swims that way, her long legs pushing through the water, her blond hair loose around her like a mermaid. I try letting her go and not following, but as she peers into the grotto and then looks at me with wide eyes, dropping her jaw, I can’t help wanting to be with her as she discovers the place for the first time.
I wade over there and take it in from her view—low lighting giving off an intimate vibe, small waves lapping the steps leading up to the hot tub, the strategically placed privacy cubbies.
She wades in farther. “I thought this was a family resort.”
“It is, but Robert knows that the moms and dads are the ones making the decisions about where they vacation each year. So he makes it where they want to come back as much as their kids do.”
She meets my gaze. “Robert’s the guy who owns this place, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. I guess I assumed she’d know that.
She stares at me like she’s thinking about asking me something personal, but then she just glances around the grotto again. “I’m surprised this place closes at seven. It seems like such a nighttime vibe.”
I pick up a beach ball that’s floated my way and knock it across the pool. “You’d be surprised. The moms and
