Game Changer by Kelly Jamieson Page 0,30
cove is nice, with a sandy curve of beach, but I wince as I traverse the rocks lining the edge of the water. Then I’m back onto sand, gentle waves lapping around my ankles in this sheltered area. I wade in deeper, hunching my shoulders against the chill, then dive in. Cold water embraces me as I sweep my arms out and back in a breaststroke and kick my feet. I surface and roll onto my back, turning my face to the sun. Nice.
Okay, that took care of the inconvenient erection. I can’t spend all day in the ocean, though.
I turn again and swim in a crawl, staying parallel to the shore, back and forth a few times until I start to feel winded. I swim lazily back to shore and hike back to the umbrella. Molly’s wearing big sunglasses, but I feel like she’s watching me, so I tighten my abs.
I grab the towel from the lounge chair next to her and towel off a bit, but the sun will dry me fast enough. “We should try out the kayaks,” I say, nodding to the kayaks arranged on one side of the cove. “Or paddle boards.”
“That would be fun.”
I’m glad she’s up for that because I’m not good at lying around doing nothing for very long. Right now, though, I’m fine stretching out in the sun, trying not to look at Molly. Trying not to think about looking at Molly.
She’s reading her book and we’re both quiet for a while. Then she says, “Could you put sunscreen on my back?”
Fuck me. She wants me to touch her?
“Sure,” I croak.
She hands me her sunscreen bottle and sits facing away from me. It’s a spray bottle. Maybe I don’t have to touch her?
I spritz away, covering her slender back with the lotion, all the way down to the shallow indents on either side of her spine just above the bikini bottom. She leans forward to give me better access and I swallow. “Okay,” I say. “Done.”
“Thanks.”
I blow out a breath as she adjusts her chair and stretches out on her stomach to read more. The sun gleams on her skin.
“Is your book good?” I ask.
“Yes! It’s so good. I love romantic suspense stories. Toni Anderson is one of my favorite authors.”
“Is there a murder in it?”
“Several.” She grins.
“Bloodthirsty.”
“I know.” Her grin turns a little evil.
“I wouldn’t have thought that of you. You teach little kids.”
She laughs. “Yes. And at night I like to read about serial killers. Tell me something about you that would surprise me.”
Huh. I think on that. There’s probably a lot she doesn’t know about me. “I’m a virgin.”
After a startled beat, she bursts out laughing. Her head drops down to her book and her shoulders shake. Finally she lifts her head and half-rolls to her side to face me. “Yes, that would surprise me,” she says dryly. “If it were true.”
I grin. “You don’t believe me?”
“Nuh-uh. Come on. Tell me something real.”
“I’m afraid of heights.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. When we were standing up on the bluff, I didn’t want to get too close to the edge.”
“Huh.”
“What’s something else about you?”
Her shiny pink lips purse. With half her face hidden by sunglasses, her mouth becomes the center of my attention. “When I was a kid, I had an imaginary friend.”
My eyes widen and I smirk. “No shit. What was her name?”
“You assume it was a girl.”
“Was it?”
“Yes,” she admits. “Her name was Opal, because that’s my birthstone. She lived in the broom closet.”
“What? Poor Opal. Did you talk to her?”
“Yes. Until I got old enough to realize how weird it was. Then I just did when I was alone. Or thought I was alone. One of my cousins overheard me talking to her once and made fun of me for years about it.”
“Ugh.”
“Your turn.”
“Well. I don’t tell everyone this…” I pause. “But under these shorts, I’m naked.”
More laughter spills from her lips. “Good one.”
“Okay, how about this. My feet are two different sizes.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I have to buy two different pairs of hockey skates. It was expensive as a kid.”
“Do you buy two different pairs of shoes?”
“No. Usually I can get away with just buying the size that fits my bigger foot. But I have to have skates that fit perfectly.”
“Let me see.”
I stretch my legs out, feet together, for her to inspect them. Luckily my toenails are trimmed. Feet can be gross.
“I really can’t tell,” she says. “Is it your right foot that’s bigger?”
“Yeah.”
“No one would ever know.”
“Probably not. Just me.