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Dizzy for him.
Duke frowns at my burst of giggles. “Okay, that’s it. I’m calling someone.” He reaches for his back pocket and I catch his wrist, fighting to keep my face straight.
“No! No, wait. I’m fine, honestly. Sorry. The water and the hose—they’re helping.”
Duke grunts, and I can tell he doesn’t buy it, but he mists me patiently for another minute or two.
The spray is colder now, straight from the pipes. Still not as icy as I’d like, but combined with the summer breeze rustling the foliage, it’s nice and fresh. Just what I need.
Goosebumps prickle over my bare skin, and my nipples prod against my soaked sports bra. Duke blushes above his beard as I sigh, pushing off the wall and turning slowly under his spray. Treating him like my personal shower.
What the hell has come over me? Did I leave my self control out there on the sidewalk, baking in the mid-morning sunshine?
“Better?” he asks, and his voice is pure gravel.
I hum, and it must be the endorphins from the run or something, because I’m bold this morning. “Getting there. Will you do the backs of my legs?”
There’s a long pause, then the scrape of boots against stone. Duke kneels heavily, the spray moving down to the backs of my thighs, and I bite my lip as I stare at the side of the house.
There’s a caterpillar inching its way up the white stone. I focus on that, and try not to imagine Duke’s teeth scraping over my skin. The water mists over the backs of my knees, then down to my throbbing calves.
What does my ass look like from this angle?
Gah. I’m so out of line.
“She shouldn’t work you so hard,” Duke says suddenly, his voice loud after sharing nothing but breaths. “Meg forgets we’re not all athletes. I’ll talk to her.”
I’m already shaking my head. “It’s not like she pushed me. I chose to do an extra lap, and she runs at my pace even though it’s way too slow for her. Honestly, it’s my fault.”
The last thing this situation needs is Meg somehow shouldering the blame. She’s my best friend, and I’m out here coaxing her dad to spray me with the garden hose, wondering what my ass looks like from his eye level. Yikes.
“All done,” I squeak, my throat suddenly tight. My stomach churns, but this queasiness is all guilt, not heat stroke. “Thanks, Duke.”
I turn to face him right as he stands up. He pushes upright, and just keeps going, and going, and going. My neck aches from staring up at him, but I always find it so hard to look away.
I’m like a flower tracking the sunlight. Whenever I look at this man, I don’t even want to blink. And it’s no excuse, but nothing less than this non-stop longing could make me forget myself around my best friend’s dad.
Meg is so important to me.
But for the last three years, Duke’s been my center of gravity. He’s what I orbit around. When I step back, my chest aches. He turns away, and I’m bereft.
The side gate squeaks open and Meg calls out a greeting, but I’m too tongue-tied to respond. Too busy staring at her dad’s back as he goes inside, wishing and praying for one final glance.
He doesn’t look back at me. He never does.
Four
Duke
Two days later, I know something’s up the second I step into the kitchen to start dinner. You know that feeling when you walk into a room and everyone goes quiet? When the air’s suddenly tense, and the back of your neck prickles?
Yeah. I’m getting that feeling.
“Meg,” I say, raising an eyebrow at my daughter where she’s hunched over the breakfast bar, textbooks spread over the marble. Clem’s over at the table, poring over her own classwork. Both innocent at first glance, but I know better.
Now Clem, she looks like a girl who’s studying. She chews on the end of a pencil; makes notes on a notepad. Her laptop’s close by, but the screen has gone dark, because when she focuses on her math problems, she’s all in. Completely absorbed. It’s cute as hell.
Meg, meanwhile, looks as shifty as a possum caught beside a trash can—and I should know. I’ve been the target of her pranks plenty of times over the years.
