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“Not according to your dogs.” I launch the frisbee. Cher leaps, tongue hanging out of her open mouth, and actually catches it. “Holy shit, did you see that? Cher’s an athlete!”
Jen throws up her arms. “I knew my baby was special.”
Cher gobbles up the treat we give her. She must be feeling saucy, because she also tries to take the treat we give Tai.
“Since you’re such an expert,” Jen says, “how about you teach me how to properly throw a frisbee?”
I show her how from the safety of several feet away. The way to hold the frisbee. How to curl her wrist one way, then the other, to release the frisbee. “Like that.”
“Just like that.” She chuckles. “So easy.”
She lines up her feet and gives it a try. I laugh. “Wow, that might be your worst one yet.”
“You’re my worst one yet.”
“That makes no sense.”
Stomping her foot, she glares at me. “Stop making fun of me and teach me, goddamn it!”
“Fine, fine. Like this.”
Putting my hands on Jen again feels like tempting fate. But it’s just a frisbee. This is just a silly exercise we’re doing for her dogs.
I’ve just been in love with her for a decade. It’s fine.
We’re all going to be just fine.
The dogs bounce at our feet. I have Jen hold a frisbee and line up behind her. I frown. “Where’s your ring?”
“Oh. I took it off before I went into the hospital. Don’t worry, it’s back at the house safe and sound.”
That’s not what bothers me, her potentially losing it.
What bothers me is that other men might botherherif she’s not wearing it. But whatreallybothers me?—
Nope. Not gonna think about it.
“Okay.” I clear my throat for the five-hundredth time since Jen moved in with me and place my hand over hers. “Hold the frisbee like this. Firm your grip. There you go.”
Our arms are lined up. My front brushes her back. I’m trying to keep my distance here. Not make this awkward. No one is on the beach right now, so they don’t need to see me all over her.
Thing is, my body very much wants to be all over hers. And when I guide her arm in a wide, controlled arc and the ball of her shoulder tucks itself neatly into my chest, her ass grazing my crotch, I nearly bite off my tongue in an effort not to press back into her.
“Like this. Let it go when you get here.” I hold up our arms at the crest of the arc.
“Oh. Okay.” Do I detect a wobble in her voice? Or are herwords just blurred by the sound of the ocean?
The waves roar and so does my heart as we go through the motion once, twice, three times.
The clean, floral scent of her shampoo fills my head.
Why does she gotta fit like a goddamn puzzle piece against me? I’m dying here, and I never want it to end.
I step back in an effort to rein in my runaway pulse. “Try it now.”
She does. No improvement. In fact, the frisbee wavers in the air before doing a one-eighty and dinging me in the head.
“Oh my God!” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “Abel, I’m so sorry.”
