Page 89 of The Blind Date


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“Come on, the lockers are over here,” I tell him, having memorized the map. I can speak his language too.

I open the locker, setting the bag down inside to pull out Raffy’s gear. I help him into his life vest despite his wiggled arguments and then Velcro his hat around his chin.

I slip the straps of my sundress down my arms, not intending to be sexy, but I feel the heat of Noah’s eyes on me. He watches as I let the dress drop below my breasts to my waist and then carefully step out of it to stand in my yellow polka-dot, two-piece swimsuit. It’s nothing overly sexy, not a thong or anything that’s more strings than fabric. In fact, it’s more of a hippy-style boy short with a bandeau top. Perfectly acceptable for a public water park.

Noah makes me feel like I’m standing before him nude, though. His eyes skate over my skin, and I swear I can feel the caress of his gaze.

“Raffy . . . I think your momma’s trying to set this place on fire. She’s so hot today,” Noah tells my dog conspiratorially. “I’m going to need to be Johnny on the spot with the sunscreen, making sure I keep her well coated in cream.”

Why does that sound like a promise and threat all at once?

I grin, reaching into my bag and pulling out a bottle of sunscreen. “Already ahead of you.”

Noah practically dives for the bottle, pulling it out of my hand. He squirts a generous amount into his palm and then begins sliding the lotion all over my skin. It feels naughty and intimate to do this in public where anyone could see, even though Noah’s hands aren’t dipping anywhere private.

Oops, spoke too soon . . . His fingertip dips just below the waist of my suit, tracing over the small of my back.

“Let me do you,” I tell him, taking the lotion back. Two can play this game.

I drizzle the sunscreen directly onto his chest, then squeeze his pecs and firmly spread the lotion over his shoulders. I can feel his heart beating faster beneath my palm.

“Rowf!” Raffy barks, breaking the spell.

“Way to go, Fluffy Cockblocker,” Noah says too loudly, and while I should be mortified at the people who look our way, I can only laugh.

We head to what I already know is going to be my favorite spot, a full-on ‘beach-style’ pool that slopes gradually from toe-deep all the way to swimming depth if you want. It’s perfect because Raffy can splash and even go doggy paddling if he wants, but humans can cool off too.

Noah dumps his towel on a lounge chair and immediately runs for the water a little awkwardly. “Be right back!” he calls over his shoulder as I laugh. “Need to cool off! It’s a scorcher out here today.”

I can see the outline of his hardness, proof of the effect I have on him, and it makes me feel sexier than ever. I might be a lightweight in terms of kink, but I love the happiness being sexy for Noah helps me feel.

I drop down to sit on the lounge chair as Raffy takes off after Noah, thinking this water-running thing is a game for his amusement.

I watch them playing together, Noah squatting in the pool to help Raffy swim back and forth in the cool water. I take a deep breath, grounding myself in the moment—the feel of the sun on my skin, the smell of chlorine and wet dog, the sound of squeaky balls, the sight of Noah and Raffy being so cute, and though sunscreen is a smell, I swear I can taste it on my tongue.

All of it together makes me feel very, very happy. This moment is what it’s all about—finding joy in the good and bad. Because let’s be honest, no one likes the smell of wet dog. But if that’s the worst thing to happen today, I am beyond fortunate.

Noah spends a good ten minutes in the pool with Raffy, and when he gets out, I have plenty of eye candy watching the water glisten all over his taut stomach and drip down to the waistband of his shorts.

“Are you coming in or is your plan to lie here and torture me the whole time?” Noah asks, not looking tortured at all. In fact, the way his eyes are tracing from my blonde braid over my sun-kissed face, to my breasts and down my hips, and over the length of my legs to my freshly-painted, white with yellow polka-dotted toes, he looks to be enjoying himself immensely.

“Your toes match your suit, but opposite,” Noah tells me.

I wiggle my toes in delight that he noticed. “I’m coming in too. I want to get some pictures of Raffy but didn’t want to interrupt because it seemed like you two were having a moment.”

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