I smiled at him and saluted. “Yes, General. I will convey your instructions to Kishan.”
He saluted me back. “See to it.”
I laughed and went in search of Kishan.
I found him in the dojo working on martial arts and sat on the bottom step to watch him for a few moments. He did a complicated set of aerial leaps and twists that would have been impossible if he didn’t have tiger strength. Then he landed two feet away and faced me with a playful grin.
I laughed. “You know, if you and Ren entered the Olympics you could both win several gold medals. Gymnastics, track and field, wrestling, you name it. You’d both get millions of dollars in endorsements.”
“I don’t need millions of dollars.”
“You’d have pretty girls fawning all over you.”
He smiled rakishly. “I only need one pretty girl fawning all over me, and she’s not interested. Now what brings you down here? Want to work out?”
“No. I wondered if you wanted to go for a swim. Mr. Kadam has ordered us to relax today.”
He grabbed a towel and scrubbed his face and head. “A swim, huh? It might cool me off.” He peeked from around his towel. “Unless you’re planning to wear a bikini.”
I snorted. “I don’t think so. I’m not a bikini kind of girl.”
He affected a deep, dramatic sigh. “That’s a pity. Alright, meet you at the pool.”
I headed upstairs and changed into my red one-piece swimsuit, slipped on a robe, and stepped out onto the veranda.
Kishan had changed into a pair of board shorts and was setting up the net for water volleyball. I’d just tossed my robe onto a deck chair and tested the water with my foot when I felt something cold on my back.
“Yikes! What are you doing?”
“Hold still. You need sunscreen. Your skin is so white you’ll burn.”
He efficiently coated my back and neck with lotion and started on my arms when I stopped him.
“I can take it from here, thanks,” I said, holding out my hand for the bottle. I squeezed out a quarter sized blob of lotion and rubbed it onto my arms and legs. It smelled like coconuts.
Kishan grinned, glanced at my legs, and winked. “Take your time.”
By the time he got the ball and a couple of towels out of the storage locker, I was done.
He asked, “Care for a game of volleyball?”
“You’ll beat me.”
“I’ll take the deep end. It’ll slow me down.”
“Okay, I guess we can try.”
He took a step closer. “Hold on a second.”
“What?”
He grinned mischievously. “You missed a spot.”
“Where?”
“Right here.”
He dabbed a giant blob of sunscreen on my nose and laughed.
I punched him and smiled. “You troublemaker!” I reached up to try and blend it in better.
“Here,” he said. “Let me.”
I let my hands drop down to my sides while his fingers lightly brushed the lotion over my nose and cheeks. The touch was friendly at first, but then his mood changed. He closed the distance between us. His golden eyes studied my face. I sucked in a deep breath and ran.
I took a few steps and cannonballed into the deep end of the pool, effectively splashing him and everything else nearby.
He laughed and dove in after me. I shrieked and swam underwater to the other side of the net. When I popped my head above water, I couldn’t see him. A hand grabbed my ankle and tugged me under. After I surfaced again, coughing and pushing the hair out of my eyes, Kishan sprung up next to me, flipped his hair back with a toss of his head, and laughed as I tried to shove him.
He didn’t budge, of course, so I splashed water at him instead, which turned into a water fight. It soon became painfully obvious that I was losing. His arms never seemed to tire, and when wave after wave of water drowned out my pathetic splashing, I called a time out.
He happily stopped the bombardment and, using his arms, pushed himself up and out of the pool to grab the volleyball. We started playing, and I was delighted to see that I’d finally found a game where I seemed to have an advantage.
After I spiked the ball for the third time, winning another point, Kishan asked, “Where did you learn to play? You’re pretty good!”
“I’ve never played in the water before, but I was decent at standard volleyball in high school. I almost joined the team, but that was the year my parents died.