“Um, I believe I’ll be having the baby,” Tiffany mutters. “But you can hold it.”
“And change its diaper,” Max adds.
“No way. That’s your job.” I grin, so happy for them and also trying to stop feeling the ache in my heart for Christina. She and Kevin are trying again this month. “A baby.”
“Okay, I’m taking my woman home to celebrate.” Max wiggles his eyebrows, making Tiffany laugh. “Have a good night.”
“Congratulations,” Addie says. “And Tiffany, don’t forget to call me.”
“Trust me, I won’t.”
I settle Addie and me back in the chair. “You guys became fast friends.”
“She and I went to the same high school,” Addie says. “It’s a small world.”
“Hmm.”
“Plus, she’s a sweet woman. You can tell that she has a really good heart.” There’s a sadness in Addie’s voice now, making me frown.
“You’re definitely right about that,” I reply cautiously. Addie’s quiet for a long minute. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think I have a good heart,” she whispers. “My heart isn’t a pretty place, Jake. You should know that before this goes much further.”
Oh, baby.
“Why would you think that?”
She shrugs. “Jake, my own parents don’t want to be around me much. Men walk all over me. I have wonderful friends, but I don’t think I’m particularly lovable.”
“You’re wrong, you know.”
She simply shakes her head. “No, I’m not. My heart’s been fucked with too much. I’m callous. I’m cynical.”
“So, you’re saying you’re human,” I reply and tilt her chin up so I can look her in the eyes. “Addie, you’re a grown woman. Of course you’ve had life experiences that have broken your heart, made you guarded. I don’t need someone with a spotless heart. Give me someone who’s been through some shit, who’s had to pick herself up, dust herself off, and get on with it.”
“I just wish I was less cynical and more kind.”
“Stop it. You are kind. And you’re not necessarily cynical. You’re guarded, and that’s okay. You’re a smart woman. But I see you showing kindness to people all the time. At your job, to your friends, to my friends.”
She frowns, and I kiss her forehead, then settle her against me again. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetheart. It may have taken me a while to break through some of your walls, but here we are. You’re wild about me.”
“I tolerate you,” she replies with a smile in her voice.
“Stop fawning. It’s embarrassing.”
She throws back her head and laughs, and I’m pleased to have made her smile again. “So, you like to swim?” she asks, tracing the tattoos on my arm.
“Love it. You?”
“I can swim,” she says softly. “I learned when I was little.”
Suddenly, she stands and strips out of her clothes, leaving me painfully aroused and my jaw dropped.
“I bet I can beat you, from end to end.”
“Do you?” I stand and strip out of my own clothes. She cocks a brow at the sight of my hard-on, but I simply shrug. “Your fault, sweetness.”
“I didn’t do that.”
I laugh. “You’re breathing. I’m hard. That’s how it works.”
She smirks and jumps into the deep end of the pool, then comes up treading water. “Are you in or not?”
“What do I get if I win?” I ask and jump in after her.
“Me.”
“And what do you get if you win? Which you won’t, by the way.”
“I get you.”
“Sounds like a win-win to me.”
She shrugs and braces herself on the edge of the pool. “We’ll push off from here. Ready?”
“This is going to be embarrassing for you,” I warn her.
“Go!”
I watch her push off and swim away, and then I join her, giving her a three-second handicap.
Because I’m about to crush her in this race.
Just as I pass her, she grabs my ankle, pulling me under. She lets go, but instead of continuing to the other end of the pool, I simply pick her up and throw her toward the deep end.
“Hey!” she sputters as she surfaces. “That’s cheating!”
“And pulling me under isn’t?” I ask with a laugh.
“You were passing me,” she replies primly. “That wasn’t fair.”
“It was a race. That’s what happens when someone is winning.”
“You aren’t supposed to win,” she replies, as if I’m a slow child who just doesn’t understand what’s being said.
“Sore loser, are you?”
“I like to call it competitive.” She giggles and swims toward me, wraps her arms and legs around me, and holds on tight, pressing her core against my pelvis. “Sex in the pool always looks fun in the movies,” she says, then wrinkles her nose. “But it’s not fun in real life.”
“No?”
“No.” She shakes her head and kisses me. I reach down and guide myself inside her, but stop there, not moving in and out, and walk out of the pool to a chaise lounge in the setting sun and lay her back on it. “But this works.”