Page 22 of Thin Ice

“Isn’t it against the rules or something?”

I chuckle. “No, it’s not. We can be friends.”

“What if you end up being our mentor?” She pauses and taps her chin. “Wait, are you?”

I left my phone in my bungalow, which I’m certain has the intake sheets of our last couple, who I don’t know the names of. “I’m not sure yet.”

“And you don’t care if we are?”

“I don’t. I become friends with my couples during the week, anyway. If you are with me, we’re just starting early. Does it bother you?”

She shakes her head without hesitation. “It doesn’t. I like talking to you; you’re nice.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. She’s definitely on the drunker side. “You’re nice, too.” And beautiful. It’s a recurring thought I’ve had since we ran into each other. It could be inappropriate if I let it, but I’m a professional and a man who was raised right. I know how to talk to someone I find attractive without being a creep. She also isn’t the first person I’ve been attracted to here, and I’m sure she won’t be the last.

“Thanks.” She takes another sip of her drink. “Tell that to my husband.”

Okay, we’re venturing into that territory.

“Do you want me to go get him? I have no problem telling him.”

Quinn’s already flush skin deepens into a darker shade of pink. “I don’t know if he’d believe you right now.”

“No?”

She shifts on her stool before looking around like she’s checking to see if her husband is in earshot. The other people who were sitting here before are in the pool now, and Matt is further down the bar cutting lime wedges.

“I said something mean to him before he went to the gym,” Quinn admits.

“You aren’t the first person to say something mean to someone they love, especially their husband.”

She plays with her paper straw. “I suppose not. I’m sure you’ve seen and heard it all working at a place like this.”

I take a sip of my own drink, a club soda with lime. I don’t drink anymore and haven’t in a long time.

The bubbles tickle my throat, and I clear it before I speak. “Yes, I have. Everyone comes here for different reasons, and all relationships are unique.”

Quinn hums. “Do you have a partner?”

I shake my head, noting how she once again focused the conversation on me, even though it’s obvious she wants to talk about what’s going on with her. But I let it slide for now.

“I’m fairly nomadic, and that’s a hard lifestyle for a lot of people.”

She spins the stool so her body is fully facing me. Her cover-up is still on the lounge chair with her towel, and the yellow bikini she’s wearing underneath leaves little to the imagination. Her large breasts push from the tops of the material, and I force myself not to look at them or imagine what they look like sans top. Or what her soft stomach would feel like under my large hands.

“You don’t live here?” she asks.

I swallow the saliva now pooled in my mouth. “Do you mean here or in Joshua Tree?”

“Both.”

“I stay here in a bungalow when I’m working for Hazel and Reignite. Otherwise, I prefer milder climates and moving around, working for different programs.”

Quinn groans. “Don’t tell me: You hate the heat?”

I hold back a laugh at her obvious distaste at the idea. “I don’t hate it, but I wouldn’t want to live in it year-round. I like the seasons.”

“Well, I like it. I like the sun! There is so little of it in Seattle.”