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They say when you have a near-death experience, your whole life flashes before your eyes. When Vince shoves my shoulder with surprising strength, the only thing that flashes before my eyes is a pond and a tacky nude marble statue with cantaloupe-sized breasts.
I fall across Des’s front when Vince hits me. Des, surprised, pitches forward to catch me. That sends our momentum even farther forward and to the right, and our tied legs get tangled together. There’s no stopping it. We’re going to hit the ground.
Unfortunately, we hit the ground at the exact location where it slopes more steeply down into the pond. Des wraps his arms around me, and we tumble around and around and around, down the slope, straight into the ice-cold depths of Wendy’s water feature.
Okay, “depths” is an exaggeration. I land with my butt in about eight inches of water. I sit up, drenched, only to see Des checking me over with frantic hands. “You okay?” He touches my face, my shoulders, runs his hands down my legs. “Any injuries?”
My teeth chatter from cold and adrenaline, and I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
Cheers occur behind us. I glance over my shoulder to see Vince and Caitlyn hugging and spinning, celebrating their fourth victory in a row. Despair hits me like a rocket. I feel it right in the middle of my chest, almost strong enough to knock me back into the water.
“We lost,” I say as I watch Des struggle to unknot the wet fabric around our ankles.
Eventually, he gets frustrated and just rips the thing apart with his bare hands. What’s it like to be that strong? He stands, completely soaked, his white tee clinging to every inch of his perfect chest, and turns back to help me up.
I sit on the muddy bottom of the pond, water lapping at my hips, and give him a disconsolate look. “Des. Did you hear me? We lost.”
Des blinks, then glances at the finish line. When his gaze returns to me, he just shakes his head. “Who cares? Let’s get you warmed up, Mia. You’re soaked.”
“Wait!” a voice screams from the lawn.
I turn to see Simone sprinting toward us, red hair wild around her head. She skids to a stop at the top of the incline. “Des. Don’t move.”
Then she lifts her phone and snaps a picture. She spins the phone toward me, and even from a distance, I can see Des’s shape, wet T-shirt clinging to his body in all its transparent glory. “Got it,” she says, turning the phone back around to tap on its screen. “Sending it now.”
Desmond looks at her like she just sprouted scales. Then he stares at me, utterly confused.
Laughter bubbles up from my chest, causing my whole upper body to shake as it explodes out of me. I nearly fall down onto my back, but Des scoops me out of the water and carries me toward the house.
“I can explain,” I tell him in between giggles.
“You’re hypothermic,” he says. “That explains it all. I’m taking you to the downstairs shower.”
“We’ll watch Bailey!” Trina calls out. “Take your time!”
I wave at her over his shoulder, still laughing. Des pauses, then shifts his hold on me to touch my forehead, checking for a temperature.
I try to glare at him, but more giggles come out. “No, you don’t understand. It’s your T-shirt. You look really hot in a wet T-shirt. We were objectifying you. We do it all the time, because you’re really handsome and sexy.”
He stops halfway around the side of the house, staring at me. “Mia. You’re scaring me. Say something mean to me, otherwise I’m taking you to the hospital to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
“Hey,” I protest, letting my fingers climb up his neck to tangle in his hair. “I’m only mean when you’re being a jerk.”
He huffs. “Good enough.”
“You’re not actually supposed to put hypothermic people in hot water, you know,” I tell him when we enter the garage, my hands still stroking his hair. He hasn’t put me down yet, even though I can definitely walk. I decide I don’t want to mention it right away. “It shocks the system. You’re supposed to strip them naked and use your body heat.”
Des grunts. “We can do that too.”
He kicks the door to the downstairs bathroom open. It bangs against the washing machine and closes again behind us. Des finally sets me on my feet, his hands immediately moving to strip off my shirt. I lift my hands to make it easier. The saturated fabric falls on the floor with a wet slap.
Next is my bra. Des unclips it and strips it off my chest with almost vicious movements. Without his body heat against me, goosebumps sprout all over my skin, my nipples tightening into hard points. My fingers feel like sausages as I try to unbutton my jeans. Des pushes my hands away and tugs at the button, causing me to step forward to catch my balance.
I let my hands fall onto his shoulders to steady me as he shoves the wet denim down my thighs along with my underwear, then I step out of the whole wet mess.
Completely naked, with the man of my dreams kneeling before me, I finally allow myself to think about what I’m doing.
This isn’t like what happened in my barbershop. I’m not in a daze. I’m not out of control.
