I kept talking but quieter.
“Kids tend to like thirty-four year old women who go all out in a squirt gun fight and don’t mind looking stupid and accidentally running into the pelican that shoots water out of its mouth.”
One of his hands moved down to curl around my neck. The other one slid into my hair at the side, through it and down the back where his arm ended curling around me as he replied, “Yeah, they do. Being a big goof goes down good with kids but it was more than that, baby. They just like you.”
I hoped his latter words were true but I was stuck on his earlier words.
“I’m not a big goof. I’m a badass even with a squirt gun. I totally kicked both their asses.”
“Baby, you ran into that pelican and they nailed you,” he reminded me.
“Sure, but I recovered and rallied huge.”
His grin came back. “Yeah, and that’s when I nailed you.”
My eyes narrowed, “Creed, hot stuff, you didn’t nail me until ten minutes ago.”
His grin got bigger. “I nailed you then, too.”
I disagreed. “It was totally a tie in the squirt gun fight.”
He disagreed with me disagreeing. “I kicked your ass. You were drenched.”
“You did not, the pelican kicked my ass,” I shot back.
His body started shaking under mine as he asked, “Seriously? You’re okay with the fake pelican squirting water out of its mouth kicking your ass and you’re not okay with me doing it?”
Absolutely.
Seeing as this could go on all night, I decided to put a stop to it by announcing, “Paintball tiebreaker when we get back to Denver.”
“Beautiful, I don’t play at business unless I got swim trunks on and my kids with me.”
The breath went out of me at his calling me “beautiful”. Something he hadn’t done in sixteen years. Something I loved back then. Something I missed. Something I loved having back so much, it hurt.
“Sylvie?” he called.
I focused through the exquisite pain and saw the amusement had faded from his face and his eyes were intent on me.
I didn’t share.
I just whispered, “Then, baby, you’re missing out. Business is business and fun is fun and paintball is a freaking blast.”
He ignored me and asked, “Where were you?”
I knew what he was asking but I didn’t answer. Instead, I told him, “I’m right here, with you.”
“Five seconds ago, you were somewhere else.”
“Creed –”
His hand at my neck slid back into my hair and his arm around me gave me a squeeze while he prompted gently, “Sylvie, asked you a question.”
I pressed my lips together then slid my hands up his chest, one stopped at his neck, the other one I wrapped around his jaw and watched as my thumb traced the edge of his lower lip.
When my thumb was retracing its path, I looked into his eyes and whispered, “I missed you calling me ’beautiful’.”
“I missed havin’ you close so I could call you that,” he whispered back.