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Wet Johnny stirs up flutters in my middle.
“What are you waiting for?” He drags his hand through the water creating a gush in front of him.
“You brought me here to skinny-dip with you?”
“I brought you here to bathe. Strip down. Get in. I won’t peek. I promise. It’s this or—”
“Or you could’ve driven me home to my shower.”
His smile slides down to a half frown. “Now
that sounds boring.”
It does. Getting naked in the swimming hole with Johnny is a fantasy that played in my head as a teenager. However, the fantasies never included the sweet and handsome smile he sends me now. Only the dangerous and cocky smirk of his younger years. There’s something thrilling about discovering this side of him.
“Fine, turn around.” I wave my hand at him.
“That’s better.” He turns his back to me.
“Don’t look until I say.”
“Promise.”
My heartbeat speeds up with every layer of clothing I remove. I consider leaving on my bra and panties, but quickly strip them off before I change my mind. I walk to the water’s edge.
“And no funny business.” I dip my toes in the cool water. It feels so good.
“Promise.”
“You make a lot of promises for someone who breaks so many.”
“When did I—” He starts to turn around.
“Johnny!”
He halts halfway and holds up his hands. “Sorry.”
Without another thought, I rush into the water. It’s cold but nice. I lower myself until the water touches my neckline and covers my naked body.
“You can turn around.”
The water ripples as his body rotates to face me. “When did I break a promise?”
“Last night.” I glide my arms through the water.
“I didn’t break my promise last night. I was hands off.”
“I woke up this morning, and you were definitely hands on.”
“No, no, no.” His arms slowly paddle him closer to me. “You were the one who rolled onto my side.” He floats a few inches closer. “All the way onto my side.” A few more inches in my direction. “I was just too gentlemanly to push you away.” He stops. “Just like I’m too gentlemanly to get too close to you now.” He tosses a bottle in my direction. I cover my face when it splashes in front of me. “Better be careful with that. You have a record of burning your eyes with shampoo.”
I laugh. “Shut up.” I squirt a dollop of shampoo in my hand. “Floating shampoo bottle. Clever. Did you bathe in bodies of water a lot on your travels? Lakes? Rivers? The ocean?”
He catches the bottle when I toss it back to him. “I did.” He squeezes the liquid over his head and then throws the bottle back to shore. “I like being out here. In nature. Away from everything and sometimes everyone.”
“So I’ve read, Lone Rider.” I lather the shampoo in my hair, but no bubbles form.
He groans. “You read my column.”
