the water. It’s just this side of cool, a perfect contrast to the hot day, and goosebumps break out along my skin. Bobby swims closer and stands in front of me.
“You are stunning. I want to kiss every inch of your skin, tease at these goosebumps with my fingertips, and feel your body against mine,” he says softly, grit and gravel in his voice.
“Okay,” I say breathlessly.
I want that too. All of that, please.
In my brain, Ilene’s bell goes off. Ding! I’m ready.
“Close your eyes for me again,” he orders, and they slip shut of their own accord.
I feel his arms surround me, scooping me up until my legs are over one ropey forearm and his other is wrapped around my back. I try to wrap my arms around his neck to keep my balance, but before I can, I’m flying through the air.
“Ahh!” I squeal, my eyes flying open right before I bust through the surface, going under. Water goes up my nose, and I swallow some too, coming up sputtering and mad.
“I thought you were going to . . . what the . . .” Words aren’t coming out, so I settle with slapping the water and screeching, “Bobby Tannen!”
He grins hugely, big and wide, like he’s heard that more than a time or two. “Got you out of your head, didn’t I? Now let’s have some fun.”
I blink, still getting water from my eyes because my bangs are hanging low, brushing well past my brows. I shake my head like a dog and push my hair to the side. “What?”
“Race you to the other side,” he says, already swimming before he finishes the words.
I’m dumbstruck for a moment, giving him an even bigger head start, but realization kicks in and I dive after him, working hard to make up the distance.
Feet kicking and arms swinging, I cut through the water. It’s not graceful by any means, but it’s effective, and I reach the cows only a few seconds after he does.
“This is Maverick,” he tells me, petting the cow’s side.
“You can tell them all apart?” I ask, surprised. At dinner the other night, it’d sounded like they have lots of cattle, hundreds of them at least.
He shakes his head. “No, Mark and Brody can, but they go by numbers.” He points to the tag on the cow’s ear that says 178. “I’ve made friends with a few of them, though. There are a few different places I like to sit when I’m working on a song, and some of the cows are curious. They’ll come right up and sit down next to me, mooing for scratches like a dog.”
“The goats did that!” I say, smiling. Slowly, I raise a hand and scratch Maverick too. The cow moos loudly, and I jump, but a second later, I realize it’s the cow version of encouragement and do it again.
After a few minutes, Bobby asks, “Can you float?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve tried,” I say, trying to think back. Maybe when I was a teenager? Since then, my water activities have been more along the lines of lying beside it than in it.
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me through the water.
We go deeper until the water reaches his chest and my chin before he picks me up again.
“No,” I squeal, kicking and grabbing around his neck.
He laughs. “I won’t. I’m gonna hold you so you can float. Trust me.” His face is serious, and I believe him that this isn’t a setup to throw me again. Slowly, I relax, and he guides me back, one hand low on my spine and one at my shoulders, and I float. Nervously, I don’t let my head go too far back, not liking water in my ears, but I like the feel of his hands on me a lot.
“Relax. I’ve got you, Willow. Take a deep breath and look at the sky above you. Blue infinity, white puffs that look as soft as cotton. Listen. Hear the wind and the cows. Feel the water caressing you, cooling your skin. Breathe, be heavy in the water, in my hands. Let me hold you up.”
I listen to his rough voice, almost meditative with calm, quiet, soothing tones, doing as he says . . . the sky, the wind, the water, and finally, him. I am in tune with everything around me, especially Bobby.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, but I can feel stress and