Calmly, Carefully, Completely (10 page)

Careful or my head’s going to start to swell
. He looks toward Reagan. Is that longing in his eyes?

“Stop scamming on my girl,” I warn.

He doesn’t take his gaze from her, but it looks less lascivious and more…needy.
Do you think
… His hands stop moving.

“What? Spit it out already,” I prompt.

Never mind.

“What were you about to say?” I ask, turning to face him completely. “Ask it. I won’t be able to sleep tonight unless I get to hear what’s going in that head of yours,” I tease.

I was just wondering
… He looks toward Reagan again.
Do you think there will ever be a girl that looks at me like she looks at you?

I glance toward the lifeguard stand. “How does she look at me?” I ask.

Like she wants to jump your bones.
He laughs. But I can tell this is serious to him. More serious than he wants me to know.

I tap his leg with my foot to get his attention. “That’s not the question you should be asking yourself,
doofus.”

I’m in a chair, Mr. Mentor Man. You think it’s a good idea to call me a
doofus? You might affect my self-esteem.

I roll my eyes. “If you had any ego problems, I’d already know it.”

Forget I asked
, he says. He looks everywhere but at me.

“There’s a lid for every pot, Karl. Some fit
better than others, but there’s one made just for you. You should be asking yourself if she’s good enough for you. Every single time. Don’t ask yourself if you’re good enough for her because when you find the right fit, you won’t doubt it.”

He grins. I think he likes that answer. And I mean it.

So you think she exists?

I nod. “I think she’s just waiting to find you. So don’t fuck it up by being a smart-ass.”

He points to himself.
Me? Never!

Karl’s mom approaches from the other side of the pool. She just happens to have a bucket full of water in her hand and she’s tiptoeing, so I try not to smile. But I can’t help it when she dumps the water down his back. He leans forward, wincing, but he’s also laughing.

“That’s what you get for being a shit this morning,” she says with a smirk. So this is where he gets it from. I like her even more now. She pulls a water gun out from behind her back. She hands it to Gonzo. “Reagan looks like she could use some cooling off, don’t you think?” She winks at me.

Gonzo is suddenly a man on a mission. He hides the gun down by his leg and rolls around to where Reagan is sitting. He stops below her and claps his hands together. She looks down at him, smiles,
and says something, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. He grins, pulls out the squirt gun and proceeds to soak her. He doesn’t hit her in the face, but he gets the rest of her pretty well. She puts her hands up to shield herself, and it’s really pretty amusing. Suddenly, his pistol runs out of water, and she climbs down the ladder of her chair. She has a wet towel in her hand, which she proceeds to flick at him until it cracks against his knee.

“Ouch!” I whisper to myself, wincing. But he fucking loves it. He grins and throws his gun to someone in the pool to fill up. The whole time, she’s chasing him around the edge of the pool with the towel, until her dad has to come and send her back to the stand. Mr. Caster points his finger, and she pretends to pout. Then she flicks him on the ass with the towel too. He turns around, picks her up, and tosses her into the water. She floats to the surface and sputters. Her big, floppy straw hat floats there beside her. And her glasses have sunk to the bottom.

That shit’s funny. I can’t stop laughing. I laugh until my sides ache from it. She looks in my direction and narrows her eyes. She swims over to where I’m still sitting, completely dry. “You’re looking a little too amused, there, Pete,” she says. She fills her mouth with pool water and spits it from between her teeth at my foot. Damn, that’s hot. But, again, I’m a guy. We tend to get a little orally fixated. She could spit a goober and I’d still probably find it sexy.

“What are you going to do about it?” I ask, sitting forward with my elbows on my knees. She looks startled for a second. Then I realize she’s plotting. I can almost smell the gears in her mind
burning, they’re working that hard. Gonzo rolls up next to me. They must have warned everyone about Gonzo’s tracheostomy tube because no one tries to get him wet and he’s careful about the edge of the pool. Next thing I know, he’s beside me, and he doesn’t take the same care with me that he took with Reagan. A blast of water hits me in the face.

I put my hands up to block him, but dammit, he’s having so much fun with it that I don’t want to stop him. Instead, I let him squirt until the gun’s empty. Then I blow water from my lips and open my eyes. She’s grinning like hell, and
Gonzo’s almost as happy as she is.

“You so deserved that,” she says.

I stand up and point to her. “I’m coming for you, Reagan,” I warn. She squeals and backs away. She looks a little panicky, but then I realize she’s having fun and she’s panicking because I’m going to dunk her rather than because I’m going to touch her.

This shit is like foreplay.
The really good kind. I go in the shallow end and stalk her all the way to the rope that sections off the middle of the pool. I want to touch her so badly I can taste it. “Come here, little girl,” I taunt. “Let me show you what happens when you mess with a real man.”

She laughs and ducks under the rope. She comes up smiling, though. I go under and reach for her, and she almost slides right by me, but I grab her at the last second. I slowly and gently pull her against me. We’re so close together that I can feel her heart beating against my chest. She stares into my eyes, and then her gaze drops to my lips and moves back up. “Pete,” she warns. She kicks her feet to stay afloat.

“Reagan,” I mock.

“It wasn’t my fault,” she says, but she’s a little breathless. “It was Gonzo. He planned the whole thing.”

“Liar,” I whisper. Her face flushes. I tread water with one hand and hold her against me with the other. This feels so good that I don’t want to let go.

“Reagan,” her father barks.

She looks up at him, as if she’s being dragged from a trance. I let her go, but she doesn’t move away from me. Her arm touches mine. “I want to kiss you,” I say impulsively, right beside her ear. She shivers lightly.

“You better do it soon,” she warns. “Or I’m going to have to replace you with someone more willing.” She kicks off from me and goes to the side of the pool, where she pulls herself up and climbs back into her chair. She crosses her long, tan legs, and her foot waves in the air as she fidgets. Then she looks at me and says loudly. “It better be epic, Pete. That’s all I’m saying.” She points to a place beside me. “And throw me my hat.”

I pick up her wet hat and set it on the side of the pool. I dive down and get her funky glasses and lay those beside her. I’m glad I have something to do because I don’t trust myself to get out of the pool just yet.

Our first kiss will be the kiss that ends all first kisses for me. I’m sure of it. I just hope she feels the same way.

Reagan

Dad’s mad at me, I can tell. He has been glaring at me all afternoon. Pete stares at me, too, but in a completely different way. He shed his shirt about two hours ago, and he walked over to me carrying a bottle of sunscreen
Gonzo’s mom gave him. Dad intercepted him, though, and spun him around to rub sunscreen on his shoulders himself. Pete let him. It was the funniest thing I have seen in a long time. When Dad finished, he slapped Pete’s naked shoulder really hard and pointed him back toward the group of hearing-impaired kids who had just arrived at the pool.

Pete has organized water volleyball and water basketball, and I watch the boys play. My mouth goes dry as he slices out of the water to hit the ball, jumping high as he volleys it back to the other side of the net with his uninjured arm. His body is amazing, and I finally get to see all of his tattoos. I want to trace them with my fingertips and see how far they go beneath his swim trunks. His suit hangs low on his hips, and he has those ridges and a patch of hair leading down his belly that would make any bright girl become stupid.
Like now. I can’t take my eyes of it. I want to follow the path like it’s the yellow brick road. My dad is the cowardly lion because I think he’s a lot more afraid of my feelings for Pete than I am. I…I am the wicked witch.

Pete swims over to the side of the pool in front of me. “Come swim with me,” he says, splashing water toward my legs.

“I’m on duty,” I say, and I blow my whistle at one of the boys.

He jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward the group and says, “They’re deaf, you know?” He laughs. “Your whistle is pretty ineffectual.”

“Then let’s hope they can all swim.”

“They’re confined to the shallow end.” He grins at me.

I look at the boys. They’re watching Pete from where they’re still hitting the ball back and forth. “They like you,” I say. Of course they do. Everyone likes Pete. Even my dad likes him, though I’m not sure he likes the burgeoning relationship between us.

“They like you more,” he says. “I told them I was going to come and put the moves on the pretty lifeguard.”

A grin tugs at my lips. He thinks I’m pretty. “You did not.”

“Oh, yes, I did.” He smiles, and my heart trips over. “Prepare to be moved, pretty lifeguard.” He hoists himself out of the pool, careful of his injured wrist as he goes up the ladder, and stalks toward me, water sluicing from his body. When he gets close to me, he stops and lays his crossed arms over my lap, and looks up at me. “You don’t mind me touching you, do you?” he asks.

My heart’s beating so fast I can’t take a deep breath, but it’s not because I’m afraid of him. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. “Apparently, my inner goddess is a slut. Yeah, I read
Fifty Orgasms
.”

He lays his forehead on his folded arms and laughs into the space, his shoulders shaking. I thump him on the top of his closely shaved head.

He covers his head with his hand and looks up, scowling at me. “What was that for?”

“You laughed at me.”

He snorts. “You were talking about
Fifty Orgasms
. Of course I laughed.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Do you even know what book I’m talking about?”

“Anastasia and what’s his name,” he says with a breezy wave. “I read it.”

My mouth falls open.

“The last one was the best.” He grins. “His surrender was kind of sweet.”

“He didn’t surrender.”

“What do you call it then?” He laughs. “He totally changed for her. And he loved every second of it.”

I lay back heavily against the chair I’m in and glare at him. “You skipped around and just read the good parts, didn’t you?”

He looks offended. “Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’m not smart.” He chuckles. He lifts my hand with his so he can thread his fingers though my mine.

Pete jumps when my dad slams through the pool gate. Dad glares at him, but he doesn’t move his hand from mine.

“Reagan,” Dad barks.

I blow out a quick breath and say very nicely, “Yes, Dad.”

“Chase Gerald’s father just called.” He looks at where my hand is tangled with Pete’s, and if death rays that shoot from the eyes existed, then Pete would be a puddle of ashes on the ground.

“Is that the guy from the drugstore?” Pete whispers.

I nod, slicing my eyes toward Pete for a second. “What did he want?” I can already guess, and my heart sinks at the very thought of it.

“He said Chase came home talking about you being at the drugstore with some thug.” He glares at Pete, and Pete stiffens, his hand tightening on mine.

“Did you explain who Pete is?” I ask. I don’t want to leave anyone with a misconception about Pete.

“I told him that he’s someone my daughter is crushing on, but that I wasn’t worried about it because she’s a smart girl with her head on straight.” His voice rises on the last words, and his glare at Pete grows even fiercer.

“I’m not crushing,” I protest. But I
so
am.

Dad faces me. “Then what would you call it?”

I don’t know what to call it because I don’t know what it is. I shrug. Pete stiffens more when I do that than he has since Dad came through the gate.

“Chase wanted to know if you might want to go to the party at the country club tomorrow.”

“I already told him no,” I say. But I can already see the look on my dad’s face. That’s not going to work.

“I told him you’d love to.” He opens the gate and stops, looking at me from over his shoulder. “He’s picking you up at six.”

I growl under my breath. Mainly because there’s not much more I can do since Dad is gone. The gate slams shut behind him. I pull my hand from Pete’s.

“Where are you going?” Pete asks.

“To catch my dad so I can tell him I’m not going.”

“Do you want to go?” he asks. He watches me closely, his blue eyes blinking slowly.

“If I wanted to go, I wouldn’t have told him no.” I heave a sigh.

He steps back from me and takes all the warmth I was basking in a minute ago with him. “I think you should go,” he says quietly.

“Why?” I ask softly. Something is really, really wrong. He doesn’t usually distance himself like this.

“Your dad wants you to go,” he says with a shrug. “You don’t want to piss him off.”

He starts to walk down the length of the pool. He signs to the boys, and they all start to put away the balls and the floats and they line up by the door.

“I’ll see you later,” he calls quietly. Then he leads the boys from the pool area back toward their cabins.

What did I do wrong? I seriously have no idea.

I see Dad going through the back door of the house, and I run to follow him. I don’t know why he just did that, but what he said made Pete mad at me, so he needs to go apologize.

“Dad!” I call to his retreating back. He doesn’t turn around to talk to me. He keeps going.

He’s ignoring me now? What the hell?

I follow him into the kitchen and see him glaring at my mother, who looks a little bemused. “How could you do that?” I ask. My heart is thumping like crazy, and I can barely catch my breath.

“What did you do?” my mother asks.

Dad shrugs and washes his hands at the sink. He ignores me completely. Mom raises her brow at me in question.

“He called Pete a thug, and then he told me I have to go on a date with Chase just because his father called and snapped his fingers.” I snap mine for good measure.

Mom’s inquisitive grin turns into a scowl. “What?” she asks. She grabs my father’s shoulder and turns him to face her. “You of all people called Pete a thug?”

“To his face!” I shout. “Then Pete left. And I don’t even know what he’s thinking.”

“I know what he’s thinking,” Dad murmurs. Mom frowns.

“He’s thinking you don’t like him!”

Dad makes a noncommittal hum. That’s it? A hum?

Mom’s face softens. She can read Dad like a book. I just wish I could.

“What?” I ask. I look back and forth between them.

“Your dad is afraid Pete’s trying to get in your pants,” Mom says. She lifts her brow at Dad. Dad just glares at her. He won’t even look at me.

I throw up my hands. “That’s just it!” I cry. “He’s not trying to get in my pants. He won’t even kiss me!”

“Oh,” Mom breathes.

Dad murmurs something, and Mom rubs his shoulder, her eyes soft as she looks at him.

“What?” I ask again.

“Your dad’s afraid you’ll get your heart broken,” she says quietly. She looks sympathetically toward my dad.

I take a deep breath and steel myself. “Most girls get to have their hearts broken when they’re eighteen or so. Maybe sixteen or whenever they find their first boyfriend.” I jab a finger toward my chest. “I’ve never even had a boyfriend, Dad,” I say. My eyes fill with tears, but I blink them back. How messed
up is this? “I like Pete, and he’s someone you can like, too. So, what’s the problem? We haven’t even been on a date!”

“I saw him watching you at the pool.” Dad heaves a sigh. “He looks at you like I look at your mother.” He tips her chin up so that her eyes meet his. “I saw her and I knew she was completely out of my league, but I wanted her more than I ever wanted anything.” He looks at me. “And that’s how Pete looks at you. That’s what scares me, Reagan. Not that he’s a thug or that he’s poor or that he’s been in prison. He looks at you like he never wants to stop looking at you. I’d probably like him more if he was just trying to get in your pants, because that’s something you can get over. But a man loving you,
that’s completely different. You’re not ready for it.” He shrugs his shoulders. “You’re just not.”

He may as well have stuck a knife in my chest. “How do you know what I’m ready for?” I ask.

“I saw what that asshole did to you, Reagan,” he says. He slams his fist down on the kitchen counter, making the dishes jump. And me, too. “I saw you walking around here, jumping at shadows, wrapping yourself in a protective bubble so no one else could hurt you. You learned how to protect your body, but no one ever taught you to protect your heart.” He pounds his fist against his chest. “You’re unprepared for what Pete wants. Completely unprepared.”

“What do you want me to do?” I ask. I can barely hear myself, but Dad hears me.

“Stop it before it’s too late,” he spits out. “Just stop it.”

“Okay,” I breathe. “You win.” I turn and walk out of the room.

I just met him two days ago. Why do I even feel like my soul already knows him intimately? I don’t understand it, either. Maybe Dad’s right.