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“I’m not dancing.”
Jeremy is not deterred and steps in front of him, holding his hips and moving against him. The big man just watches him with a stern expression and his arms crossed. I’m not sure why, but I find it hilarious and start laughing.
“You’re going to marry him, and you won’t dance with him?” Paul asks.
Preston lifts an eyebrow at Paul. “That’s correct.”
“But why? It’s only us out here.” I shrug, spreading my arms. “Even if you dance like a dumbass, it’s only us.”
“Not happening.”
I sigh and turn to face Paul, putting my forearm on his shoulder and interlacing our legs. His hand on my hip moves to my lower back, using it to lead.
The music changes, and my stomach growls. Paul chuckles, kisses me quickly, and steps back. I skip to the ice bin and pull out a premade peanut butter and honey sandwich, devouring it in about three bites, and chugging a water.
Jeremy opens the gate at the end of the boat so we can jump off and steps back under the shade for Preston to spray him down with sunblock.
I toss my hat and sunglasses onto a chair and get into a running stance.
“Everyone in the water!” I yell and run across the deck and into the water. It’s cold on my sun-heated skin but feels amazing, even for nine a.m. I hear Paul shout, “Yee haw,” and I swim out of the way so he doesn’t land on me. I turn just in time to see him cannonball into the water.
Mr. Butts stands at the open gate and barks at us, wagging his tail and whining. We call him and encourage him to jump, but he won’t do it, so I swim over and grab him. He swims around, then clings to me.
By some miracle, Jeremy convinces Preston to get into the water.
Okay, maybe it’s because I told him he wouldn’t be able to stop me from touching Jeremy’s butt if he didn’t.
We spend some time splashing around, wrestling, laughing, and swimming. It’s amazing how freeing it is out here. Nothing exists except the water, my people, and my puppy.
Preston starts talking hockey and how the new guys look. Since a few guys graduated, we have to break in new players and rearrange the lines. We talk about the good and bad points of each of the guys we’ve seen while we float in the water.
“I’m hungry. Feed me,” I complain. My arms and legs are wrapped around my husband.
“Come on then.” He pats my legs, and I release him. We all make our way back to the boat and grab food.
Preston grabs a turkey sandwich and takes a bite.
“You know you would play better if you didn’t eat that bread,” I tell him as I add potato chips to my sandwich.
He sighs heavily as I take a big crunchy bite and smile at him.
“Why do I put up with you again?”
“Because your scratching post likes me.” I ball up my trash and throw it at him. Jeremy snorts, and Paul sighs. I love fucking with Preston. He’s just so easy to rile up.
“Angh!”
Everyone turns to look at Paul when he makes a weird sound and is spitting his bite out into his hand. Seymour is there to try to help him out with that food, and Paul has to push him back with his foot.
His confusion as he looks at the mess in his hand and sees the black silicone band in his food has me holding my breath. We both want rings, but he’s been going back and forth about what he wants to do. These are cheap and can be replaced when he comes to a decision. I don’t care what the rings are made of as long as we have them.
He pulls the band out and cleans it off with a napkin.
“February twenty-fourth?” he asks, looking at me.
“It’s our anniversary date. I looked it up.” I’m proud as fuck of myself for that. I had to check the schedule to see which days we played Vegas, but I did it.
“You got married before or after the game?” Preston asks. Of course his weird ass would remember the exact dates of games we’ve played.
