Page 12 of Collide

Slow down, I tell myself. Keep your cool, dude.

But the way Ivy watches me as I round the pool has my heart racing and my feet wanting to run to her. She passed on the parasailing, much to my disappointment, but it was good to hang with the guys. We’ve been out of sorts since Cash’s death, but it’s time to get back on track. I’m anxious to get us into the studio again. Of course, that means we need some new songs. Last night turned out to be productive for me, both before I played for Ivy and long after I took her to her room.

“Man, I’m exhausted,” Petty says, throwing himself into a lounger next to Ivy. What the…? I want to tell him to move, but I don’t. I sit at the end of another sun chair next to him while Jared falls face-first onto the one on the other side of me.

“I can’t believe how hard that was,” Jared mumbles into the cushion.

“How hard was it?” Petty giggles like an immature teen instead of a man in his twenties. Jared ignores the joke.

“Holding on is hard,” Jared mutters, rolling his head to face us.

“I like to be held hard.” Petty chuckles. “And I plan to be, right after I meet her.” He nods toward a redhead making eyes at him from the other side of the pool.

“Dude,” I hiss, my eyes tracking over to Ivy. “Don’t be rude.” I nod in her direction, and Petty laughs again.

“Ivy’s like one of the guys. She knows I’m constantly horny. You don’t mind, right, Ivy?”

Before she can answer, Tommy sits up and snaps at Petty. “Be careful.”

Petty waits until Tommy falls back on his lounger before he salutes the older guy. The salute reminds me of the first time I met Ivy.

“So how was parasailing?” Ivy asks, her attention on me. She’s wearing a see-through cover-up in swirls of orange and white. Her hair, piled up on her head, seems brighter under the sunlight. She smiles as she speaks to me, and my heart jack-knives in my chest.

“Fun,” I say at the same time Petty says, “Hard. So hard.”

“Dude,” I mumble while Ivy shakes her head and giggles. She sits forward, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“What have you guys been up to?” I ask, hoping to keep her talking to me.

“Just hanging in the sun. It’s warm today.” It’s Hawaii. It’s very warm, but a nice ocean breeze keeps the temperature manageable. Still, a dip in the pool might be refreshing even though we just came from parasailing. I drop my glasses behind me, tug off my shirt, and stand to face Ivy.

“Come swimming.” I’m not asking. I hold out my hand, begging her to take it.

She brushes at wisps of loose hair around her face. “Oh, I’m good.”

“Come on,” I tease, wiggling my fingers. My lip tilts up in a smile I hope she can’t deny.

“No, thank you,” she says, shaking her head while her growing grin teases me. Her legs slip forward, straightening. Her hands cup under her thighs.

“Then you leave me no choice.” I step forward, shoulder to her stomach, and lift her. She squeals, and I assume it’s from delight. Her feet wiggle to kick me, so I adjust her, so she doesn’t hit the goods, which is already hard from having her over my shoulder. If I knew her better, I’d spank her ass near my cheek. If I turn my head, I could suck on her thigh and leave a mark on her skin. My mouth waters with the thought, and I’m so lost in my fantasy about it that I don’t hear her plea.

“Gage, please.” She pats on my back, not pounding but strong enough to grab my attention with the sting of her palm on my skin. I spin us for the pool, preparing to dump her, covered and all, and then she grunts, “Put me down.”

“In you go,” I tease, taking a step toward the pool.

“Gage, don’t throw me,” she begs, her voice straining.

“Just a little dip to cool you off,” I mumble, hiking her up so her belly lands on my shoulder. She harrumphs with the shift.

“Please. My stomach. I’m pregnant.”

The world stops around me. I no longer hear the ocean or kids laughing in the pool. The sun dims, and the waitstaff stalls their service as my brain screams, What!?

I quickly grab her hips and lower her down my body, not releasing her even when she stands before me. Her hands land on my shoulders.

“What?” I swallow as the single-word question fills my mouth like cotton balls, drying the inside.

“I’m…I’m pregnant,” she repeats, her voice quiet as her lids shut off her eyes from my view. My fingers drop from her hips, and I take a step back. My chest heaves as if I’ve run a marathon. I try to draw in a deep breath and notice my nostrils flare.