Текст книги "Playing the Player"
Автор книги: Lisa Brown Roberts
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
Chapter Eight
Trina
Tuesday, June 4
Five of us stood in the shallow end of the rec center pool: Three middle-aged ladies, one skinny, pasty-white twentyish guy, and me.
“Okay, everyone, give yourself a high five for showing up today!” The girl in the red lifeguard swimsuit was named Lindsay. She was so perky it made me twitch. Between post-nanny fatigue and my water phobia, I was a nervous wreck.
“Learning to swim as an adult”—she glanced at me—“or, um, when you’re not a little kid, can be scary. But it’s going to be awesome! We’re going to work together and get past your fear.” She glanced at two of the ladies, who could stand to lose a few pounds. “Swimming is fantastic exercise.” She glanced at skinny, pasty guy. “You can get a great tan when you’re a swimmer.”
I wanted to point out the dangers of skin cancer from too much sun, but was too nervous to speak. The older ladies shared a laugh over a whispered comment. I felt a twinge of jealousy they were bonding already, since I had no one to bond with. I glanced at pasty guy. No freaking way was I bonding with him.
“The first thing we’re going to do,” chirped Lindsay, “is get used to putting our faces in the water.” She beamed at us, plunked her face in the water to blow a mountain of bubbles, and resurfaced, grinning. “Everybody try it.” She clapped her hands. “You can do it!”
Oh my God. She was probably great at teaching toddlers, but come on. I needed someone older and bossy, who wouldn’t let me give into my fear. Someone way less perky.
The plucky housewives looked at one another and shrugged. One by one, they tentatively copied Lindsay, lowering their faces to the water and blowing bubbles. Pasty guy shot Lindsay a glare.
“Whatever.” He plunged his face underwater and jerked it out again, coughing and gagging as water spewed out of his nose and mouth.
“Oh my,” Lindsay glided over to him like a mermaid. “That was a great effort, but let’s slow it down a little bit.”
While everyone was occupied, I slowly lowered my face into the water, goggles on. I cautiously blew a few bubbles, intent on not making a fool of myself like pasty guy.
Lindsay appeared next to me when I stood up. “Awesome!” she held up her hand to high five me. Reluctantly, I raised my hand and her palm slammed onto mine. I winced, but forced a tight smile.
The rest of the lesson followed the same pattern. Plucky housewives clustered in the corner, laughing nervously and encouraging one another. Pasty guy standing off by himself trying to look cool but failing miserably. And me, trying to do exactly what Lindsay said, while simultaneously trying not to get extremely annoyed with her perkiness.
In the locker room after the lesson, I sighed in frustration. At the rate we were going, it would take me years to learn how to swim.
You have to crawl before you can walk, Desi had said when I told her about the lessons, after she’d stopped hugging me. She knew the real reason I couldn’t swim, and she’d always kept my secret.
When I got home from the rec center, I hung my suit in my closet to dry. I didn’t want my mom to see it and freak out.
Leftover lasagna in the fridge, Mom texted. I’m stuck working late again. Sorry.
Sounded like another night I’d spend curled up with a book. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do.
Except my nanny report.
I powered up my ancient computer. I’d been so upset yesterday after my day with Slade, and then Desi blowing me off at the mall, that I hadn’t written my first daily report. But now I was ready.
Nanny Notes – Museum Day
Slade’s job performance:
1. Forgot to buy Max lunch until we showed up. *Lack of focus on job. Easily distracted.*
2. Abandoned us during Gillian’s meltdown. *Showed lack of teamwork.*
3. Questioned my authority multiple times. Implied that I’m incompetent. *Conduct unbecoming a nanny.*
4. Did not speak to me on drive home from museum. *Very unprofessional not to speak to partner.*
I thought back to how I’d snapped at him in the gift shop. How I’d totally lost my cool and let him get to me. How I’d insulted him in front of the kids. I cringed when I remembered the kids looking at me in shock.
A dull ache throbbed behind my temples. No matter what I thought of Slade, and even though this whole “partner” joke was a charade, I shouldn’t drag the kids into it. I needed to keep up a good front for them. Plus, I needed them to like me, and listen to me, since it would just be me and them pretty soon.
I hated it when I lost control, because I hardly ever did. My whole life was built on discipline and schedules and never making mistakes. I dreaded what would happen if I let down my guard, even for a day.
Yet just one day with Slade had completely upset my equilibrium. What kind of shape would I be in by the time Friday rolled around?
I closed my eyes and reached for the lavender oil, unscrewed the cap, and inhaled deeply. Maybe I could get this stuff in pill form. Or just drink it straight out of the bottle.
Chapter Nine
Slade
Wednesday, June 5
Trina texted me at six a.m. Meet us at the library at 9:00.
What military base did she live on? I paged through my texts, and saw that she’d texted me last night, too. I’d been with Beth, the blonde from the pool, so I’d ignored my phone.
Library? She’d better have something really awesome planned or else the kids would freak. And I’d totally support them if they did.
I rolled over in bed, determined to sleep until my alarm woke me at eight.
Another text woke me at six fifteen, like a frigging snooze button.
Slade? R u there? LMK you got this.
Got it. C u at 9. I hit send and powered off my phone.
Three hours later, Max and I pulled into an almost empty library parking lot.
“Do you like the library, Slade?” Max asked me as we crossed the lot.
“Uh, sure buddy. I mean, I used to. I haven’t been here since I was a little kid.” I wondered if the kids’ section still had the puppet theater. That had been my favorite part.
The automatic doors swooshed open and we saw Trina and Gilly waiting in front of the check out desk.
“Max! Slade!” Gilly shrieked when she saw us, and the librarian behind the desk glanced up, smiling. Maybe librarians had lightened up since I was a kid. I remembered getting shushed a lot.
Unlike Gilly, Trina didn’t scream with excitement at the sight of me. She stood with her arms crossed, glowering. Usually I liked it when girls crossed their arms like that, because it pushed up other body parts.
Wait, what the hell was I thinking? Trina wasn’t a girl. She was more like a robot disguised as a girl.
“You’re late,” she announced.
I looked around at the empty library. “Yeah, it was crazy. We had to drive in circles waiting for a parking spot. Almost as bad as a concert at Red Rocks.”
Trina’s glare intensified, and her chest shifted higher. Why was I noticing this?
Gilly and Max ignored us and took off running for the kids’ section. This time the librarian did glare. “No running in the library,” she hissed, but the kids didn’t slow down.
“God, Slade.” Trina dropped her arms in frustration and stalked after the kids.
The librarian smirked at me as I followed Trina. They were probably best friends, bonding over boring encyclopedias or sappy romance novels. Ugh.
Max parked himself in front of the science picture books while Gilly headed for the small theater with the cutout window.
“Awesome. It’s still here.” I plopped down in front of the theater. “Show me what ya got, Gilly.”
She grinned, then ducked so I couldn’t see her behind the cardboard façade.
Trina and Max whispered behind me, having an intense discussion about how many books he could check out at one time.
A few other kids wandered in, drawn like magnets to the theater. Apparently the library was the place to be on a Wednesday morning. I noticed the moms looked tired. No wonder Mrs. G. had been so happy to see me that morning.
A little girl wearing a tiara and a Snow White costume peeked behind the puppet stage. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Getting ready for a show,” Gilly whispered back loudly. “You should watch. It’s gonna be great.”
I liked a girl with confidence.
Gilly popped up, peeking out of the stage window. “Attention, ladies and gentlemen! It’s time for the show!”
Suddenly I was surrounded by little kids. A few of them leaned against me like I was a giant pillow. Max settled himself on my lap. The moms watched from the overstuffed couch underneath a window.
Trina stood off to the side, biting her lip and looking anxious. Man, that girl was wound tight. What could she possibly be worried about here?
Gilly disappeared from view and two Muppets appeared in the window: a faded, bedraggled Elmo, and a Miss Piggy whose long blonde hair had been chopped off, making her look punk.
“What are we doing today?” asked Miss Piggy.
“I don’t know,” squeaked Elmo. “What do you want to do?”
“Don’t ask me!” Miss Piggy said. “I’m crabby Trina. You’re the playboy with the fun ideas!”
All the kids giggled, and the moms on the couch tittered.
Holy. Crap. I glanced at Trina. Her dark eyes stood out against her pale skin, making her look like a statue. A very fragile statue ready to crack.
I needed to stop Gilly before things got worse.
Punk Piggy bounced in the theater window. “You’re so handsome, Slade. Maybe we should go on a date.”
Oh no.
Max groaned on my lap. The little girls sitting by me giggled and leaned forward in anticipation.
“I don’t date mean girls,” said Elmo. “You have to be nice if you want a kiss from a playboy.”
One of the moms snorted with laughter.
“Hey, Gilly,” I interrupted, afraid to look at Trina, “Let’s take a br—”
“Shh!” Every little kid in the room turned to me, fingers on their lips. Those librarians had trained them well.
“I am nice!” yelled Miss Piggy. “I’m just having MPS.” Then Miss Piggy launched herself at Elmo, making loud kissing noises, while the moms on the couch fell out laughing.
Max looked up at me, frowning. “What’s MPS?”
Trying to hold in laughter, I darted a glance at Trina just in time to see her turn away from me, her pale face now flushed. She hurried toward the cardboard stage and knelt down, reaching for Gilly.
“No!” Miss Piggy yelled. “We’re not done!”
“Commercial! Commercial!” hollered Elmo, whacking Trina on the head.
All the kids burst into applause, and so did the moms.
I shoved Max off my lap and hurried to the stage. Gilly looked ready to blow a gasket, as did Trina.
“I’m not done!” Gilly yell-whispered at Trina. “I have lots more words.”
Trina glanced up at me. When I saw the embarrassment in her eyes and the blush still coloring her cheeks, I was surprised by the twinge of sympathy I felt.
She turned away from me. “Please, Gillian. No more.”
Gilly danced with excitement. “Was I good, Slade?”
Great. No matter what I said, I’d piss off one of them. I glanced at Trina, whose eyes were still lowered. Whoa. She had really long eyelashes. I hadn’t noticed that before. I blinked and refocused on Gilly.
“You’re so…creative, Gilly. And you did great with the voices. But, um, maybe the others kids should have a turn.” I knelt and pried Miss Piggy out of her grip, then handed the puppet to the girl in the Snow White dress.
“Miss Piggy doesn’t love Elmo,” Max announced, appearing next to us. “She loves Kermit.”
“But Kermit’s green,” Gilly argued. “Elmo’s cuter. Miss Piggy should love him.”
Trina sighed next to me. Our eyes met, then she glanced away, her cheeks still flushed. “Story time starts at ten,” she said. “Let’s put the puppets away and pick out some books while we’re waiting.”
Gilly stomped her foot. “I hate story time. They always read boring stories.”
Max stomped his foot in solidarity. “Yeah. They never read about science. It’s always stories about lost puppies or runaway bunnies.”
I bit back a laugh. “You know, my favorite book was about a bunny that got lost.”
The kids looked at me, eyes big and curious.
“What is it?” Max asked.
“The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. You should ask your parents to read it to you.”
I felt Trina watching me. “What?” I asked, expecting a lecture about my reading taste.
She shrugged then ducked her head, avoiding my gaze. “I loved that story, too. Fourth grade read-aloud. I made my mom buy it for me because I loved it so much.”
“Oh.” I waited for her to say something else, but she busied herself putting the puppets into a plastic tub.
“How long before snack?” Max asked, tugging on my arm.
“Um,” I glanced at Trina.
She jumped up and put her hands on her hips. For someone so short, she had great legs.
Shit. What was wrong with me today?
“Didn’t you read the schedule, Slade?”
Whoa. I didn’t care what her legs looked like or how long her eyelashes were when she treated me like one of the kids.
“No, I didn’t. I was busy last night.”
“I’ll bet you were,” she muttered, kicking at the carpet with her flip-flop.
“It’s the MPS,” Gilly whispered loudly to Max. “My mom says it makes girls crabby.”
“Gilly!” Trina snapped, whipping her head around like that chick in The Exorcist. “That is a very inappropriate thing to say.”
Gilly gave us an angelic smile. “You mean like calling Slade a playboy?”
“I still don’t see why that’s a bad word,” Max said. “What’s wrong with playing?”
Why couldn’t I be working in Victoria’s Secret? I’d be surrounded by hot chicks trying on slinky underwear and—
“Snack time,” Trina announced. She reached down to grab the kids by the hands and then dragged them toward the door.
I hustled after them as the kids howled in protest and the librarians glared at us.
Once outside, Trina waited until I caught up to them. She took a deep breath but didn’t say anything.
Her eyes looked shiny. Was she trying not to cry? Where was Alex when I needed him? Weepy chicks were his specialty.
“So,” she said, taking a deep breath. She raised her wrist to her nose and sniffed.
This chick was all kinds of crazy.
“We need to discuss appropriate behavior.” Trina glared at Gilly, who ignored her, humming loudly and hopping across a faded hopscotch on the sidewalk.
“It’s not nice to make fun of other people,” Trina continued. “Especially in a public setting.”
Gilly stopped hopscotching and eyed Trina warily. “The library is public?”
Trina glanced at me like she wanted my help. But with what?
“Yes.” Trina sighed, looking at me with annoyance. “Anywhere outside of your house is public.”
Gilly started hopping again. “At least I kept my clothes on.”
Max started hopping next to Gilly. “I want to go back inside and get some books.”
Trina glanced at me, but I still couldn’t figure out what she wanted me to do. I’d have to wing it.
“So we have snacks in the car, right?” I shot her my best grin, but she just tugged at her hair in frustration. I usually didn’t like short hair on girls, but it wasn’t terrible on Trina. She reminded me of an anime character, especially with her big eyes. I looked away. I needed to get a grip.
She huffed an exasperated sigh. “We’ve got apple slices and crackers. Let’s eat, then we’ll go back inside and get books.”
Once the kids were settled under a tree with food, and we sat on a bench nearby, I decided to make her laugh, hoping to relieve some of her embarrassment from the puppet show.
“Someday Gilly will have MPS,” I whispered, “then she won’t be making fun of it.”
She didn’t laugh or even crack a smile.
“Right?” I forced a laugh, but she stared at me like I was a giant dog turd.
God. If she couldn’t laugh at herself, or at least the kids, she’d never make it as a nanny. Besides, she should be used to Gilly’s special brand of insanity.
“Come on, Trina. You’ve gotta admit that whole puppet disaster was funny.”
She crossed her arms, shifting her chest up and out. I made myself look at her face, but then I got distracted by her eyelashes again, and those incredible eyes.
“Maybe if she’d made fun of you, you’d understand.” Trina sniffed her wrist again. What the hell?
I tugged at the shark tooth hanging from a cord around my neck. It was supposed to be my good luck charm, but it sure wasn’t working today.
“They did make fun of me,” I said. “Gilly called me a playboy. My Elmo self got sexually assaulted by a punk Miss Piggy.” I waited for her laugh, but it didn’t come.
She blinked at me, those long eyelashes fluttering.
“Anyway.” I tilted my head toward the kids, who squirted each other with the straws from their juice boxes. “What’s next after the library?”
And then an amazing thing happened. Trina actually smiled. Just a tiny bit. But still.
“You didn’t even open your binder, did you?”
I shrugged, returning her grin, hoping hers wouldn’t fade too fast. “Nah. But I will. Tonight. I promise I’ll read the whole thing.”
Her laugh surprised me. It was deep and…sort of sexy.
“You will not.” She looked different when she smiled. Almost like a whole other person. “You’ll go out with…whoever…tonight, and sleep all day tomorrow, and on Friday you’ll show up completely clueless about the plan.”
I put a hand on my heart. “That hurts, Clemons. I cannot wait to read that binder. It’s right next to my bed.”
She laughed again and kicked the ground with her sandal. That must be her nervous tell. I’d have to remember that.
The rest of the day didn’t completely suck. After we left the library, Trina dragged us on an architectural tour of the neighborhood, talking about mullioned windows and Tudor something or other.
The poor kids were bored out of their minds, so I spiced things up by creating my own history, telling the kids about the ghosts that haunted each of the houses. Gilly ate it up, screaming and running around, saying she could see the ghosts in the windows. Max stayed quiet, but he carried a rubber T. rex in each hand, just in case.
Eventually Trina gave up on her lecture, telling us we had no appreciation for the history of our city, blah, blah, blah.
It was a good thing Mrs. G. had hired me. If she hadn’t, this summer would be an epic fail for the kids.
Chapter Ten
Trina
Friday, June 7
My phone pinged with a text from Desi.
Are we on for movie 2nite?
Yep. Will call later.
Maybe a funny movie would clear my head of whatever disasters happened with Slade today.
When I staggered into kitchen, still yawning, Mom handed me a plate of toasted waffles.
I took the plate and sat down. “Five-star cuisine. I like it.” She grinned and handed me a cup of steaming java.
“You’re a mind-reader.” The coffee tasted bitter and the waffles were burned, but I kept that to myself because I loved her, and knew she was just as tired as me.
She sat down across from me, savoring her coffee like it was a gourmet latte.
“I figured you could use the extra caffeine jolt. Third day of nannying and all. How’s it going? How’s the other nanny?”
We’d hardly seen each other all week because of her crazy schedule at the hospital. I debated how much to tell her because, one, she would totally disapprove of the secret double salary, and two, hopefully Slade would be history after today.
“It’s going okay.” I swallowed a mouthful of partially frozen waffle. “The other nanny’s all right. Just not quite as dedicated as me.”
Mom smirked. “Not many people would be.”
“Was that a compliment or an insult?”
She laughed. “Maybe both. So what’s up? Did she like all the activities you planned for the week?”
I decided I could tell her part of the truth. “He hated all the activities. He would rather play hide-and-seek all day than actually teach the kids anything enriching.”
Mom leaned forward, way too interested. “He? The other nanny is a guy?”
I couldn’t let her get any ideas about Slade and me. She always lectured me about being my own person and following my dreams and all that. But whenever a big dance rolled around, she’d look sort of wistful when I didn’t go.
“Yeah, a totally useless guy who makes my job twice as hard as it should be.”
Mom tugged at her long braid. When I first cut off all my hair, she’d been so freaked. Then she’d told me how proud she was that I wasn’t using long hair as a shield, or giving in to patriarchal standards of beauty.
Talk about mixed messages.
One day she wanted me to go to the prom in a Cinderella carriage, the next she wanted me to be like Katniss and take down the whole system. Maybe that’s what happened when you were left with only one kid to pin all your hopes and dreams on.
I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that could block out the painful memories.
“That doesn’t make sense, sweetie.” Mom sounded concerned. “Why would Max’s mom hire someone who wasn’t qualified?”
I hated lying to my mom. I shoved more cold waffle into my mouth and chewed.
“He’s…um…I guess he’s not that bad. He’s not endangering them or anything.”
Not yet, anyway.
She watched me closely, a tiny smile quirking her lips. “So maybe the issue you have is different…styles?”
I shrugged. “That’s one way to put it.”
Mom nodded and drained her mug of coffee sludge. “Do I know this boy?”
“No,” I said. “He’s going to be a senior, like me, but I don’t think you’ve ever met him.”
She stood up to stretch. “Too bad you have to work today. We could’ve hung out together.”
A twinge of guilt flickered through me. “Maybe tomorrow? Pedicures?”
Her face fell. “I wish we could, hon, but I can’t afford it this month.”
“But I can. I get paid today.”
Mom looked at me quizzically. “You’re not making that much, T. And I want you to save most of your salary for college expenses.”
I swished the last bite of waffle in the syrup. I always saved the money I earned, but once in a while I wanted to splurge, especially on my mom.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
She ruffled my hair. “I’m sorry, T. Maybe next month.”
I wondered just how much of Slade’s crap I’d be willing to put up with to earn a double salary for the rest of the summer.
Slade was just getting out of his car as I parked in front of Max’s house. Gilly expelled a dreamy sigh. Tall and tanned, his golden brown hair glinting under the bright sun—I definitely got why Gillian was lovestruck. Thank God I had more sense than a five-year-old.
“He’s so cute,” Gillian said from her booster seat. “You should be his girlfriend, Trina.” She wrapped her arms around Spike, who’d come with us for the day. He licked her face and she giggled. “Let’s go already!” Gillian unbuckled herself and reached for the car door handle, but since the child locks were on she couldn’t escape.
I jolted out of my daze. “Hang on, Gillian.”
As soon as I released her, she shoved past me and charged up the sidewalk while I put on Spike’s leash. Slade bent to pick her up and then twirled her around, laughing. Her squeals of delight were loud enough to hear two states away.
Once he’d set her down, Slade waited for me while Gillian danced around him like a adoring groupie. I struggled to get a grip on the feelings roiling inside of me: guilt about the secret double salary, guilt about trying to get Slade fired, and anxiety that I didn’t have enough lavender oil to get through the day.
“Hey.” I tried to sound casual, reminding myself that I was Bird Brain to him. Nothing more.
His teeth glinted white against his tanned skin as he smiled. He reached up to pull back his hair, tying it with that stupid shoelace. “Hey, Clemons. We’ve almost survived a whole week together. We both deserve a medal.” His grin was like the sun, radiant and warm.
Immune, I told myself. You. Are. Immune.
Max flung open the door, and Gillian transferred her dancing and squealing adoration to him.
Mrs. Gonzales appeared in the doorway. “So, you all are hanging out here today?” She stepped back as we crowded into the foyer.
“Yes,” I said. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Fine with me.” She stuffed papers into the briefcase hanging off her shoulder.
Slade leaned against the banister. “Trina’s in charge. Apparently I’m just the copilot.”
Mrs. Gonzales shot me a conspiratorial wink. I hoped to God Slade didn’t see it.
“Fabulous,” she said. “I’m running late. See you kids tonight!” She hugged Max and bustled away. We heard a door slam, then she flung it open again, hollering that she’d made a batch of fresh cookies.
“Those cookies are calling my name.” Slade brushed past me, the touch of his shoulder making me sniff my wrist.
“Naked party!” Gillian screeched. Before I could stop her, she’d peeled off her sundress and shot up the stairs in her swimsuit. Max followed her, giggling, with Spike in pursuit.
I followed Slade into the kitchen. He handed me a cookie, still warm from the oven.
“I wish my mom baked like this,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate chip.
“Me, too.” I took a bite and swallowed. “My mom’s a horrible cook.”
Slade cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? Mine’s okay, I guess. She’s just super healthy. We don’t have any sugar in the house. Just agave and honey.”
I remembered the horrible granola bars and was impressed he didn’t slam his mom’s cooking.
Slade slid into a kitchen chair and gestured for me to join him. “So did Gillian’s mom bribe you with cookies when she interviewed you?”
Oh grilled cheesus. The cookie suddenly tasted like dried rice sticking to my tongue. I groped for a subject change, but my mind was blank.
“Did she ask what you’d do if the house caught on fire?” He smiled, blissfully oblivious to my internal agony.
“I, um, can’t remember. There were a lot of questions.” Like how I’d deal with you, for instance.
He nodded, his smile now as blinding as a thousand suns. “Yeah, but I got the feeling Mrs. G. really wanted me to have the job.”
I was about to lose my cookies, literally. I wondered if I should go to confession and spill my guts to a priest.
Why did he keep smiling like that? It only intensified my guilt. I scowled at him, and his smile faded.
“So, uh, I read the binder last night,” he said. “Well, most of it.” He took a drink of water. “Part of it, anyway. The schedule page.”
A tiny bit of my guilt dissipated. Of course he hadn’t bothered to read the whole thing. He’d probably been having his own brand of naked party. As soon as I thought about that, I felt my face burn. It was my turn to chug water.
“So anyway, about today’s schedule.” He sounded hesitant. “Are you sure the kids will sit still for a documentary? About water conservation?”
I sat up straight, relieved to feel more of my guilt disappearing. We lived in a semi-arid climate, and the more educated people were about conserving water, the better.
“I suppose you have a better idea?” I snapped.
He blinked in surprise, then fiddled with a napkin. “Well, yeah, maybe. I was thinking since it’s going to be so hot today we could take them swimming.” He grinned. “Gilly’s already dressed for it.”
Visions filled my mind, of me standing in the shallow pool at my lesson, tentatively blowing bubbles in the water. Other images, too, which I couldn’t allow to distract me.
“I don’t think the kids can swim very well.” I stated this with as much authority as I could muster.
As he ran a hand through his hair, tugging the shoelace out, I had a fleeting fantasy of running my own fingers through it. Startled, I shivered.
“Are you okay?”
I hoped he wouldn’t notice my heated cheeks. “I’m fine. But I don’t think a swimming pool is a good idea.” My panic made me sound bitchy.
He sighed and looked out the window, then turned back to me, eyes narrowed. “I’m teaching Max to swim, you know. And I’m a certified lifeguard. They’ll be fine.”
How many secrets could a person keep inside before they came shooting out like a geyser? “I just…just don’t want to.”
A long silence stretched between us.
“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” He stood up and stalked to the family room, where he plopped on the couch.
I felt awful. But I couldn’t bring myself to apologize for snapping, or to explain why I didn’t want to go to the pool. I didn’t want his pity.
The only sound was the muffled giggling from the kids playing upstairs.
Slade’s phone pinged and I watched him text someone. Alex? A girl? Girls? I wondered what he was texting. Probably, Save me from the psycho Bird Brain.
Footsteps thudded on the stairs, then the kids streaked into the kitchen. For real. Neither one of them had a stitch of clothing on.
“Gillian! Max!” I pointed toward the hallway. “Both of you. Get dressed right now or we won’t have any fun today.”
“What are we doing, anyway?” Gillian asked.
“I’ll tell you after you’re dressed.”
She and Max looked at each other. Neither of them moved.
Slade sauntered over, looking completely unfazed by the naked kids. He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re going to watch a movie. But only if you’re dressed.”
The kids jumped up and down. “Movie! Movie!” Max shouted. I’d never seen him so excited.
“What movie?” Gillian asked.
Slade shot a wary look at me then smiled at the kids. “It’s a surprise. Go get dressed.”
They tore out of the room like Olympic racers and thundered up the stairs.
“It’s not too late, Trina. You can still change your mind. Watch the boring documentary, or swim?”
Why was he so stubborn about getting his way? I shook my head. “If you’d bothered to crack the binder I gave you, you’d know that swimming is nowhere on the schedule.” I glanced at my watch. “In fact, we were supposed to start the film fifteen minutes ago.”
His grin was disgustingly sexy, even when he rolled his eyes. “I feel sorry for your future husband. You should come with a warning label stamped on your forehead.”
Anger flared in my chest. “You need a warning label, too,” I shot back.
He cocked an eyebrow, still grinning. “Yeah? What would mine say?”
Warning: Player. Slacker. Smart-ass. Lazy. Sexy. Wait, what? “Never mind,” I muttered.
He laughed softly. “You really need to lighten up, Clemons. I’m just messing with you.” He took a step toward me. “So, how about a swim?” His eyes scanned me from head to toe. “You could work on your tan.”
I crossed my arms protectively. “I don’t tan.”
His eyes, full of challenge, locked onto mine. “So I noticed.”
I swallowed. “I’m not interested in getting skin cancer.”
He took another step toward me, and I caught a whiff of his scent. Was that cologne? Soap? Whatever it was, it smelled really good. My legs suddenly felt wobbly.
“What’s up, BB?” He stood way too close. “What aren’t you telling me? I can tell you’re hiding something. You’re acting weirder than usual.”
