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He dove into the pool, slicing through the water in succinct maneuvers. He moved toward me, his hands finding my hips and signaling him that he had reached his target.
When he broke the surface, his face hovered mere inches from mine. Water dripped from his eyelashes, down his cheeks, and clung to the very tips of his spiky wet hair. “Are you ready to shove twenty-dollar bills in my g-string?”
“Eh, maybe one dollar bills?” I teased.
“One-dollar bills?” he asked. “Baby, I recall a lot of pelvic action back there.”
“Yeah, but…” I sighed “…I didn’t get the full-frontal experience.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll make note that you’re a fan of full frontal.”
I smiled, my cheeks damn near bursting with amusement.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, moving us in the water. It rippled into tiny waves around our bodies. “You know what you’re not a fan of?” he asked, brow quirking.
“Small wieners?”
His chest vibrated against my skin, laughter spilling from his lips. “Besides that. I’m well aware you’ve got an appetite for nothing smaller than a footlong.”
I giggled, savoring his teasing smile. “Tell me, Brooks, what am I not a fan of?”
“Emergency rooms.”
I tilted my head to the side, perplexed.
“You were really fucking adorable last night, slap-happy and high on Benny, but before you got to that point, I was worried.” His forehead touched mine. “I wanted to take you to St. Luke’s, but you’re pretty damn stubborn.”
The look in his eyes warmed my stomach. I couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine, the kind of shape I had been in last night. I could recall bits and pieces here and there, but for the most part, it seemed like a hazy dream. It had been our first real date. We barely knew each other outside of work, yet Kline hadn’t hesitated to take care of me. He hadn’t freaked out or gotten embarrassed that his date looked ridiculous. Because, let’s face it, I’d looked insane. Like someone had given me botched plastic surgery kind of crazy.
Last night, Kline hadn’t been focused on anything but making sure I was okay.
And it was apparent, he really was worried.
Those were not the actions of a man whose intentions were less than genuine.
He was different from anyone I had ever met, in the best way. In the span of forty-eight hours, he had somehow gained a large part of my trust. I wasn’t skeptical or scrutinizing his every word; I was merely enjoying feeling safe and cherished in his presence.
“My brother is an ER resident at St. Luke’s. He just so happened to be working a twenty-four-hour call shift last night,” I explained.
“Oh,” he said, understanding in his voice. “Now it makes sense.”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “He’s my older brother. My only sibling. And even though my lips were about to consume my face, no way in hell was I going to give him that kind of ammunition.” If I thought Will still bringing up “Masturbation Camp” was bad, my arriving in his ER looking like a blowfish would have made that never-ending joke look easy.
“Do you have any siblings?” I asked, curious to know more about him. The short amount of time we’d spent together outside of the office had me realizing every preconceived notion I’d had about Kline was dead wrong. Hell, his small, quaint apartment was evidence of that. It truly was not the kind of flashy, extravagant place I’d pictured him living in. Sure, it was nice, but it looked more like a place I would live in, not someone who had grossed nearly a billion dollars last year with just TapNext alone.
He shook his head. “Only child.”
“What are your parents like?”
“My mom is a meddler, but she means well. She’s actually the reason Walter is at my apartment.”
“Don’t you dare say anything bad about Walter,” I teased, pointing my finger at him.
“You try living with that asshole for a few weeks and see how it goes.”
“He is not an asshole. He’s a big, fluffy sweetheart,” I defended my feline friend, fighting the urge to grin.
Kline scoffed. “Yeah, he is. He’s the world’s worst cat.”
“Stop talking about my buddy Walter like that!”
“I’ll be more than happy to gift him to you. I can have his shit packed up and ready to go tonight,” he challenged.
“Tell me more about your parents.” I laughed, choosing to change the subject before I ended up with a new roommate.
“My father is an old school Irish Catholic who loves beer and offers a constant supply of dad jokes. Even though they drive me crazy sometimes, Maureen and Bob are pretty wonderful.”
