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Looking at it also reminded me of my dad and all the games he’d taken me to. Those were good times. Far and few between—but still wonderful.
My phone buzzed. On the screen was a message from Beau.
Beau: Put on a bikini and meet me in the hot tub.
I grabbed my phone and answered him back.
Me: Can’t. Cleaning.
Beau: Put down your mop, G. We’ve got work to do. This is my part of our ‘homework’ that we’d agreed to. Can’t really do it without you.
Ah, yes. Our ‘agreement’. He’d suggested we both come up with one idea to advertise our relationship to the world. The puppy photo had been mine.
Me: I need another half hour.
Beau: You serious about this or not? Get your ass down here, Martin. Now.
I sighed loudly as I closed up the scrapbook of memories. Balancing on my bed, I leaned forward into my closet and tucked the album far into the back corner of the top shelf. For good measure, I shoved a stack of hoodies in front of it. Just in case.
That binder was definitely not something I ever wanted anyone else to see. Ever.
Then I jumped off my bed and got ready for the hot tub.
Unfortunately,Beau did not look any less handsome today. His arms rested on the edge of the hot tub. I swear he must’ve oiled them up or something by the way they glistened in the sun. He shot me a smirk—one side of his mouth curving up in a devilish smile.
“Gigi, I was just thinking about you,” he said, giving me a wink. Something in his voice was—off? Not quite right. Then I noticed his eyes gazing up to a camera that was partially hidden in one of the trees.
Yeah. The stupid cameras. A sudden feeling of awkwardness covered me. Even untying my sarong felt like it took me for freaking ever to do. My fingers suddenly seemed twice their original size while I fumbled with the knot.
Relieved to finally undo it, I threw the brightly colored wrap onto a chair. Walking down the steps into the hot water reminded me of a fair maiden on a pirate ship, taking her final steps on a plank.
Only, instead of leaping into treacherous, crashing waves—I was jumping into a somehow equally perilous, fake relationship. At this moment, I wasn’t sure which situation was riskier.
The devilishly good-looking pirate I was currently staring at appeared equally as dangerous. “What were you busy doing?” he asked even though I’d already told him on our text. Obviously, he was attempting to make conversation for our audience.
“Cleaning and organizing. I’m officially done unpacking,” I said, smiling at him, still feeling much too self conscious. “A few more pictures on the wall left to hang. Otherwise I’m finished.”
He crooked a finger at me as he grinned. I shook my head and wandered to the opposite side of the hot tub. Beau narrowed his eyes at me, tilting his head as though he were trying to figure me out. “Good, then you can come over and help me unpack?” he said, his eyebrow cocking up in the most delicious way.
I might have clenched my thighs together at the thought of going to Beau’s condo. With him. Alone. Even though I knew this was all fake, it still made my lower belly feel achy.
“Do it yourself,” I said, then I sat down in front of a powerful jet. The blast against my shoulder blade caused the rest of my body to relax. My eyes closed and I grabbed the edge of the hot tub with my hands as the rest of my body floated up.
A wave of water hit the bottom of my chin as I heard Beau move through the hot tub. “Geneviève, are you being shy?” he whispered into my ear, causing a shiver the likes I’d never had before to flow through me.
I opened my eyes to a teasing smile on his face. My hand itched to reach up and touch his cheek and—
“This won’t work if you don’t cooperate,” he again whispered in my ear, which felt even better the second time. “Parler en français si c’est plus confortable,” he said in his deadly sexy French.
That made me sit and turn toward him. Yeah, speaking in French would make me more comfortable. “Que veux tu que je dise?” I asked him what he wanted me to say.
Two large, wet hands grasped me around the waist then pulled me onto his lap. “Euh, que diriez-vous de quelque chose d’interessant, mais drole?” he said, squeezing me harder with his hands.
Something interesting, yet funny? Hmm, that’s a tall order. “J’ai la diarrhée,” I said in a low voice, close to his ear. My breasts grazed his strong, wet chest, sending a tingle down my spine.
Beau burst out laughing, his shoulders and pecs shaking. “Vous n’avez pas,” he said, apparently doubting I was experiencing intestinal discomfort. “Dis moi quelque chose d’autre?” he said, asking me to tell him something else.
I pretended to think for a moment before I whispered into his ear, “J’ai une diarrhée explosive.”
