“Then consider this your hydration break.”
“I’m not joking. I’m five degrees away from spontaneous combustion. It’s either you or the hiking that is heating me up.”
Her grin widened, and then, because this woman could nevernotsurprise me, she said, “Let’s do it.”
I blinked. “What?”
“The lake,” she said, already turning toward the sloping trail that led to the water’s edge. “You’re not the only one who could use a cool down.”
I watched her walk away for a beat, her ponytail bouncing like she hadn’t just short-circuited every logical thought I’d ever had. “What about the food?”
She glanced over her shoulder, face suddenly all business. “We can swim first. We shouldn't eat right away.”
“Why?”
“Cramps,” she said seriously, waving a hand. “You know, the thing your mother used to warn you about when you got too enthusiastic with lunch and cannonballs?”
I stared at her.
“You’re applyingchildhood pool rulesto this situation?”
She shrugged. “Listen, I may kiss like a reckless romantic, but I picnic like aresponsible adult.”
I barked out a laugh. “God help me.”
By the time I made it to the water’s edge, she was already pulling off her hiking boots and socks, stepping into the shallows with the kind of confidence that should’ve come with a soundtrack. The water lapped at her ankles, sending little ripplesacross the surface. She wore nothing but a thin white bra and her floral underwear.
“Coming in or chickening out?” she called, squinting into the sun.
“I’m just emotionally preparing myself.”
“For what?”
“To see you soaking wet.”
She snorted and flicked water in my direction with her foot. “Pervert.”
“I preferappreciative observer.”
I kicked off my boots and peeled off my shirt, catching the way her gaze dipped and her breath hitched. She didn’t even try to hide it. Her eyes skimmed from my chest down to the waistband of my jeans before she caught herself and looked away too fast.
“Just trying to make sure you don’t drown,” she muttered, cheeks pink.
“Consider me supervised,” I said, stepping into the water beside her.
The lake was cold. Shockingly cold. Like slap-you-in-the-face cold. But also perfect. My overheated body practically sighed in relief.
Fifi was already waist-deep, arms outstretched, face tilted up toward the sky like she belonged in a travel brochure.
I dunked under and came up gasping.
“Holy hell,” I breathed, slicking my hair back.
She laughed and splashed me. “Told you it’d help. You’re not in Florida anymore, buddy.”
I stared at her, wet hair, water clinging to her lashes, skin glowing from the cold, and thoughthelpwas an understatement. Her nipples hardened under her wet bra, and I nearly died.
“You okay over there?” she asked, tilting her head.
