Almost as if Alex can read my thoughts, he stands still a few feet away and stares. I shift on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. I like the way he’s looking at me.
“So, Corrie. What’s the deal with you and Jacob?”
I’m stunned by the directness of his question.
“It’s complicated,” I admit. “We’re getting a divorce, but he can’t seem to let go.”
Alex smiles, his blue eyes fixing me. “I totally get it. I wouldn’t be able to let you go either.”
Damn, boy. Go easy on me… I’m old.
He leans down and sits next to me on the sofa. “So you’re single?”
I smile. “Yes… I guess…” My words trail off.
“Good, I was just checking.”
Checking? Checking for what?
“Uh… okay, good, that is…” I struggle to say. It seems I’ve suddenly turned into a dimwit who can’t form a coherent sentence. How old is he anyway? He must be a least ten years younger than me. If not more. And the things I’m imagining doing to him…
I’m a dirty old woman.
He presses a hand on my bare knee. “So, Corrie,” he says. “Do you like to swim?”
My heart is pounding now. “I do.”
“How about a swim then?”
“Now? In the lake?” I amnotdown for that.
He laughs. “Yes, right now. It’s a gorgeous day, and it’s getting kind of hot in here, don’t you think?”
Well, it definitely is, but…
“I don’t have my suit on,” I quickly say, the perfect excuse. I can’t very well go in there naked.
He traces a finger down the strap of my tank top. “What are you wearing under there? I see a bra strap.”
My mind is numb, but my sex is all,Hell, girl. The boy is pulling at your bra strap. This is going somewhere and fast.
“Uh… I’m wearing a blue bra and matching panties.”
He winks at me. “Sounds perfect. You can just go in in your underwear.”
I could. I really could. Suddenly, the idea exhilarates me. I’ve always been impulsive and I’m not about to change now. I bounce off the sofa. “Let’s do this.”
“Great. Just let me quickly get into my trunks.”
I grab a hold of his wrist. “No way. If I’m going in my underwear, so are you.”
He laughs out loud. This is one of those moments — a snap shot of happiness. Crazy shenanigans that you’ll remember on your deathbed. Alex has officially made it into my memory book.
“What do you wear?” I tease, absolutely loving it. “Boxers or briefs?”
“Briefs… plain old white briefs.”
“Perfect,” I cheer as I dash out of his studio. He follows me to the beach, eager. As I near the water, I pull off my tank top and throw it on the sand. I kick off shoes and shed my shorts. The pebbles on the beach or painful to walk on. When I turn around, I see Alex, in nothing but his briefs.