All This Time Page 12

  “Thanks, Luke. We are, and I want to move forward with you and Della, but your brother…I can’t forgive him.”

  “I know,” he says softly, placing his hand on top of mine.

  From the outside it looks friendly, but it feels nothing of the sort. His touch sends shock waves up my arm, and straight to my heart. Before I know it, I’m turning my hand over, palm up to intertwine our fingers.

  I can’t let the touch happen for too long. It makes me feel too much.

  Letting go, I stand with an empty wine glass and a throw blanket.

  “I’m going to turn in for the night,” I say with scratchy throat.

  Luke nods, watching me go.

  Chapter Eight

  On our third day glamping Paul surprised Della and I with reservations at the on site spa. With all the residents essentially camping in some form, I dubbed this place like every other campground when it was more like a resort. They had pools—indoor and outdoor—game rooms, horseback riding, and the spa.

  A few days in, and now post massage, this is the most relaxed I’ve been in my life. After being chastised by the masseur for all the knots he had to work out, I’m hooked on going more often.

  I wasn’t one of those moms that was good about pampering herself. Two years ago I had a pedicure because my Secret Santa from work gave me a gift card. When I let the nail tech convince me to get the deluxe pedicure I had to pay what the gift card did not cover. I let that good chunk of money persuade me that they weren’t a necessity.

  My hair has never been dyed. All of my makeup, hair, and facial products are from the drug store. My greatest splurge is wine. And that’s all I really need. Though, I am a little more convinced to deepen the mommy funds after having the facial.

  We found the RV vacant with a note saying they took the kids to the pool. An afternoon of sitting by the pool and reading sounded perfect.

  Della and I parted to our rooms to change. I sifted through my suitcase looking for my back up bathing suit. Yesterday at the water park I wore my one-piece—comfortable and conservative. My spare was a bikini. Very far from my kind of conservative.

  I bought it on a whim about four years ago. Pregnancy altered my body in ways I had to work extremely hard at if I wanted to be where I was pre-baby body. I would never have the slim, easy to come by figure I once had, but there was a sweet accomplishment for earning what you desired. All the jogging with a stroller, morning and evening workouts I watched on Youtube, gave me a confidence boost and healed me in ways I never thought I needed.

  We had just moved into our new apartment complex with a giant inviting pool. Brielle was two and never swam before. So I bought the bikini. Then never wore it again after the first time, but that’s beside the point. I found it too inconvenient to wear with a toddler. Too much moved way too easily. And I was not a nip slip kind of woman.

  I shimmy into the flimsy blue top and bottom, not thinking much more of it when I pull my tank top and shorts over it. In my beach bag I find Brielle’s sunscreen and pray the guys were smart enough to think about putting some on her even if they had to use whatever Della left behind for Ethan.

  In the kitchen I fill my bag with waters in case anyone needs some when we get down there. I’m fixing the sloppy bun on my head when Della comes out from her room.

  “I can’t believe you still have all that hair,” Della says, watching me twist and tug it tightly.

  “And I can’t believe you cut all of yours off.”

  “It was too much work after having Ethan. You know how long it use to take me to make it look that good.”

  “True. Mine dries like this so that’s probably why I haven’t change it.”

  “Ugh. I hate you.”

  Her pouty expression makes me laugh.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  “Yep.”

  She locks up after we step down, and then we’re walking the short distance to the pool. It takes us about five minutes before the joyous sound of children’s laughter can be heard. Then the faces of Brielle and Ethan come in to view over the gate surrounding the pool area.

  The kids are sitting on the guys’ shoulders; Ethan’s arms are waving cheerfully in the air, and Brielle gripping tightly to Luke’s wet hair. My daughter has a mixture of scared and happy emotions on her little button face. As we get closer we can make out Paul’s voice counting and then Ethan goes flying through the air before splashing water around his cannon ball landing.

  I bite my lip nervously as we approach. Brielle’s leaning down to talk to Luke quietly as he holds her securely on his shoulders.

  “We’ll go together. I got you, don’t worry,” he says back to her.

  And then he swings her around to his front, where she holds tightly as he steps out of the pool. Luke walks them to the deep end where they were floating at when we got here. He counts, and together they jump into the pool.

  They break the surface seconds later, and giggles echo off the clear water. I can feel my own smile matching my little girl’s.

  Until a whistle blares, cutting off all laughter. A teenage girl I’ve seen walking around here since we arrived scolds Luke and Paul with her stern, adolescent glare.

  “I walked away for five minutes and you two break the rules. Again,” she states, digging both hands into straight hips.

  “We were safe. No one was in the pool,” Paul tries to alleviate.

  The girl, around fourteen years old I would guess, swings a pointed finger at the big white sign with red letters that reads, “No diving or jumping into community pool.”

  “This is better than the hour massage I just had,” Della whispers to me. “My husband is getting reprimanded by a teenager.”

  “Sarah,” Luke coos, flashing that charming, devil-may-care smile at her now. “We’re sorry. Won’t happen again.”

  She scoffs. “Right.”

  I like this girl. She may be the first I’ve ever seen to not be affected by the Bennett smile.

  Sarah walks along the pools edge toward her chair and umbrella, sitting down and keeping her eyes on the two man-children.

  “Mommy!” Brielle screeches when she notices us standing at the pool entrance.

  Luke lifts her out of the water and she takes off on her little legs toward me.

  “Don’t run,” I say to her, knowing if I don’t Sarah will.

  “Great. Your wives are here now. They can babysit you two,” Sarah snips.

  Luke winks when my mouths opens and then closes, undecided how I should respond to that. Obviously it’s pointless to correct some teenager that I will never see again that I am not married to the good looking guy who has been taking care of my daughter. Della and Paul barely seem to register Sarah’s remark the way I had. But Luke certainly enjoyed it.

  Brielle comes barreling up to me, soaking the front of my clothes.

  “Come in the pool, Mom,” she says and starts tugging on my hand.

  “Did you two have fun?” Paul asks, not directing his question at any one in particular.

  “It was amazing, thank you, Paul,” I respond.

  Despite her eagerness for me to get in the water that very second, I walk over to an unoccupied set of chairs where Luke and Paul left all of the things they brought down with them.

  Through the edge of my vision I see bare, tan skin floating above the water. By the temperature climb in my body, I’m well aware of who that chest belongs to. Between all day at a water park, and sleeping near him at night, it’s like I’m living in my own personal hell. A hell where all the naughty girls and boys go for being turned on twenty-four-seven.

  It’s hot enough as it is in Florida. Why can’t he stay clothed for my soul’s sake?

  Brielle leaves my side to join Ethan at the shallow end of the pool. Paul sits there too, his torso half out of the water and lounging back against the pool’s edge with his arms resting along the top. The water looks very inviting, especially with the hot temperatures, but I’m perfectly happy to sit and read.

/>   I’ve only been attempting to read the same book for four months.

  Life of single mom. No time to read.

  I take a seat on the lounge chair and spray sunscreen along my bare legs and arms, and quickly spritz my face.

  “You’re not getting in?” Della asks me.

  “Nah. I’m gonna read while I have the chance.”

  “Oh, good idea!”

  Della sits in the chair to my right and pulls an e-reader from her bag.

  “The guys got babysitting duty down pretty good so we might as well take advantage.”

  I nod, fingering the tip of my bookmark and opening to where I left off. This part always sucks. I have to go back and read the last page or two until my brain catches up and goes “Oh yeah, now I remember.”

  I’ve just reached that point where flashes of previous scenes flutter across my memory when Della cuts it off.

  “Aren’t you hot in all that clothing?”

  My gaze flicks down at my clothes. I was so eager to get a chance to read I forgot to take my shirt and shorts off. I hesitate for a solid moment. There’s a dozen or less people here.

  “Let ‘em stare. You’re young, single, and gorgeous. Take pride in that.”

  “You’re right.” I find reassurance in Della’s speech.

  I stand, unbuttoning my shorts and sliding them down. I whip my tank over my head and feel a slight breeze whisper across the sweat dollops gathered on my lower back.

  “Damn, Liv. You even got me staring with that show.” Della grins, before turning back to her Kindle.

  I shake my head, sitting down in the lounge chair for the second time. Bending one leg, I rest the heavy, hardback novel on my thigh.

  “Uncle Luke said a bad word!” Ethan shouts across the open deck, pointing an accusing finger at Luke.

  Della and I raise our gazes at the same time to find Paul laughing hysterically with his head thrown back, and Ethan attempting to mock his dad’s expression while he keeps pointing at Luke. And Luke…is staring directly at me.

  His dark gaze blazes as hot as the sun. He’s got to stop looking at me like this. With every burning, lustful stare I’m losing my grip on sanity.

  Della chuckles quietly and speaks so only the conversation stays between us.

  “Men are so predictable.”

  I glance over at Della. “Are we really okay talking about this?”

  “You and Luke?” At my nod, she smiles. “Yes, Liv.”

  “Good, because I feel like I need to tell someone how incredibly hot Luke has gotten over the years in order for my mind and body to chill the fuck out.”

  She pauses, giving my statement a few moments to set in, and then asks, “How’d that work out for you?”

  “It didn’t do shit.”

  I groan when Della joins the hyena laughter party.

  Here’s to hoping reading will take the edge off.

  The sun rays kiss my exposed skin and I let the heat comfort me with a burning compulsion. Not sure how long it takes, but eventually I drift in to the pages and lose myself in the story being told.

  A shadow falls over me to my left. I briefly glance at the man taking a seat in the open lounge chair beside mine. He nods and smiles politely, which I return in kind, and then go back to my book.

  Do I notice in that quick appraisal he’s a good looking guy? Is there not more than a dozen open lounge chairs surrounding the giant pool? Am I smart enough to put those two together and figure out why the blonde Adonis chose to sit down beside two women a good ten years younger than him?

  Yes, to all of the above.

  Lifting my eyes, but not my head, I peer over the top of my book. Luke’s swimming in circles with Brielle on his back. He’s taken notice of the new guy next to me. His arrival broke my concentration from keeping to the safe pages, and now I’m having a hard time looking away from Luke’s stormy eyes.

  “I haven’t read that one yet.” The deep voice beside me catches me off guard. We’re the only ones out here reading, and mine has an actual visible title cover, so I know he’s directing his comment at me. “If it’s like his others, I’m sure it’s great.”

  Squinting against the beaming sky from above, I turn my head in his direction and zone in on the heap of tight blonde curls that fall into his eyes.

  “So far so good.” There’s a book in his lap as well. “That one was one of my favorites.”

  We’re reading books by the same author. A man known for fantastic mystery and thriller novels.

  “Understandable,” he grins. “I bought it yesterday and can’t put it down.”

  His bright, white straight teeth flash at me as much as his bronzy skin with a smattering of hair across his chest.

  “If I didn’t have a five year old I would have finished it in one sitting.”

  His smile falters, eyes dimming slightly. A response I’m used to when I mention I have a kid. It’s why I always find a way to throw it out there in the beginning of any conversation with an interested male. Shows their true character right away. He’ll either disengage, or pry to find out if I’m married.

  Which one shall the Adonis go for?

  When his eyes lower to my left hand holding the hardback novel, I take that as option number two, but he doesn’t say anything else as his eyes drift slowly back to his own book.

  Della sits slightly forward to look past me, taking in the good looking man and wiggling her brows up and down. My lips twitch at her blatant approval.

  Brielle squeals loud enough to draw all of our gazes her way. She’s sitting on Luke’s shoulder as he dips in and out of the water, taking her with him.

  “Is that your daughter?” My new reading buddy asks.

  “Yes.”

  I wait for the inevitable you’re-far-too-young-to-have-a-kid-that-age look. But it doesn’t come.

  “I let my son convince me to bring his girlfriend with us on what was supposed to be a father-son trip. They’re seventeen. They want nothing to do with the old man.” His lips twitch at the sarcasm in his voice.

  I understand why I didn’t get the look. If I assumed correctly that he has at least ten years on me, then he would have been young too when he had his son.

  “I have a girl. I’m not looking forward to the teenage years.”

  “Well, I have a boy so no advice in that area for you and your husband.”

  Oh, very smooth, Adonis.

  “No husband. Just me.”

  His eyes brighten once more.

  “Then I may have some suggestions, after all. From one single parent to another.”

  He’s good. Me, on the other hand, not so much. It’s been too long since I’ve had an opportunity to flirt. That includes Connor. With him it all just happened. No thrill, no gripping anticipation, only a mundane acknowledgement that we had enough in common to give it a go. The first time he asked me to dinner I thought it was a business meeting. I quickly learned it wasn’t when no one else showed up.

  “Are you from around here?” he asks.

  “A few hours north of here, actually.”

  “Same here,” his smile widens. “It’s nice to be able to vacation in your own state.”

  “So where are you at in the book?” I shift my body towards him, looking over his arm to read the beginning paragraphs of the chapter he’s in. The words sink in, bringing forth the memories I had stored away from that particular story. “Ooh, it’s going to start getting good soon.”

  “Careful, she’s a spoiler klutz.” Della never looks up from her Kindle as she encroaches on our conversation.

  “Spoiler klutz?” He asks with curiosity.

  “I tend to accidentally give things away. Basically I’m the worse person to discuss books and movies with.” I shrug, not offended because it is very true. Words will spring from my mouth before it registers the other person may not want the giant cliffhanger ruined for them.

  “Ah. In that case, please say no more.”

  I press my lips together and shift
back over to my side. As I position my book in my lap once more, he leans over and turns his deep timbre on me.

  “But I’m open for swapping notes afterward.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip. The flirtatious offer hitting me unexpectedly.

  Oh god what do I do next?

  Say yes and give him my number? I am interested, I know that. He’s a single dad, he has the same interest in books as I do, and he’s really hot for an older guy.

  But I’m dating someone currently. Then again, it’s not Connor’s name floating in the back of my mind that has me pausing this long to give a response. This hesitancy solely belongs to the other hot guy at the pool.

  Right as I’m about to open up and inquire about those note swapping promises, Brielle’s little voice sneaks up beside me.

  “Mommy, I don’t feel good,” she whimpers.

  I sit up straight when I meet her pouting face. She’s standing between mine and Della’s chair, dripping water from her soaking body into a puddle at her feet. I tuck my book on the other side before she drips water on it too.

  “What hurts?”

  “My tummy. I want to lay down.”

  Her voice is extra whiny. Hard to tell if her stomach really is hurting or if she just wants to be babied. Lucky for her, I don’t mind babying her sometimes. I won’t always have these snuggly moments, and I plan to take advantage where I can.

  “Okay let’s go back to the campsite.”

  Grabbing my bag and book, I reload my few items. I send the guy a hopeful smile of understanding from one parent to another. He gives me a reassuring nod, and I know he gets it.

  I slip my tank top back on, and stand. Brielle wraps her little hands around my thigh, and rests her head against my hip.

  “Hope she feels better,” he says, and I realize I never got his name.

  “Thanks.”

  I linger in place, needing to get Brielle back to the RV, but also not wanting to ignore where this flirting was leading to.

  Della smacks the back of my leg. It jolts my tongue to form words I didn’t prepare for.

  His eyes snap up from the curve of my hips and my bare thighs when I speak.