As I glanced into the water, I noticed a small, brightly colored object at the bottom of the pool. It looked like a child’s toy. The cleanup crew had left by then; I was the only one outside. I walked to the shed where pool supplies were kept and found a long-handled net hung on a wall rack. It was the kind of net used for skimming debris. After fumbling to extend the telescoping handle to its fullest length, I crouched at the edge of the pool and sank the net as deep as I could. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long enough.
One of the patio doors opened and closed. Somehow I knew it was Joe, even before I heard him ask casually, “Need a hand?”
I felt a thrill of worry, shrinking inwardly as I wondered if he would want to talk.
“I’m trying to get something out of the pool,” I replied. “It looks like a kid’s toy.” Standing, I offered the pool net to Joe. “Do you want to give it a try?”
“That won’t reach. It’s about fourteen feet deep. We used to have a diving board at that end.” Joe stripped off his shirt and dropped it to the sun-warmed tile.
“You don’t have to —” I began, but he had already dived cleanly into the water, heading straight to the bottom with powerful, efficient strokes.
He emerged with a red-and-yellow toy car. “It’s Luke’s,” he said, setting it on the side. “I’ll take it in to him.”
“Thank you.”
Joe seemed in no hurry to get out of the pool. After pushing back his wet hair, he braced his folded arms on the tiled edge. Feeling that it would seem rude to just walk away, I lowered myself to sit on my heels, bringing our gazes closer to the same level.
“Did Haven enjoy the party?” I asked.
Joe nodded. “It was a good day for her. For all of us. The family doesn’t want to clear out yet – they’re talking about sending out for Chinese.” A brief hesitation. “Why don’t you stay and have dinner?”
“I should probably go home,” I said. “I’m tired and sweaty. I wouldn’t be good company.”
“You don’t need to be good company. That’s the point of family: They have to tolerate you anyway.”
I smiled. “It’s your family, not mine. Technically they don’t have to tolerate me.”
“They will if I want them to.”
Hearing a mockingbird’s raggedy cry, I glanced at the distant tangle of trumpet vines and wax myrtle that bordered the bayou. Another mockingbird responded. Back and forth, one aggressive shriek after another.
“Are they fighting?” I asked.
“Could be a boundary dispute. But this time of year, there’s still a chance they’re courting.”
“So it’s a serenade?” The birds shrieked with all the musicality of torn sheet metal. “God, how romantic.”
“It gets better when they reach the chorus.”
I laughed and made the mistake of looking into his eyes. We were too close. I could smell his skin, sun and salt and chlorine. His hair was disheveled, and I wanted to smooth the wet locks, play with them.
“Hey,” Joe said gently. “Why don’t you come in here with me?”
The look in his eyes sent a rush of hot color over my face. “I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“Jump in with your clothes on. They’ll dry out.”
I shook my head with a flustered laugh. “I can’t do that.”
“Then take them off and swim in your underwear.” His tone was practical, but I saw the mischief in his eyes.
“You,” I informed him, “are out of your mind.”
“Come on. It’ll feel good.”
“I’m not going to do something stupid with you just because it feels good.” After a pause, I added with chagrin, “Again.”
Joe laughed in that soft way he had, smoky and deep in his throat. “Come in here.” He caught my wrist lightly with one hand.
“There’s no way I’m… Hey.” My eyes widened as I felt him exerting tension on my wrist. “Joe, I swear I’ll kill you —”
One gentle tug was all it required to pull me off balance. I toppled forward with a little scream, into the water, readily enclosed in his waiting arms.
“Damn you!” I began to splash him furiously, flailing. “I can’t believe you did that… Stop laughing, you idiot! This is not funny!”
Snorting and chuckling, Joe grabbed me and pressed kisses wherever he could, on my head and neck and ear. I struggled indignantly, but his arms were too strong and his hands were everywhere. It was like wrestling an octopus.
“You are so damn cute,” he gasped. “Like a little wet cat. Sweetheart, don’t wear yourself out, you can’t kick someone underwater.”
As he played and I struggled, we slid to deeper water, and my feet left the bottom. Instinctively I clutched at him. “It’s too deep.”
“I’ve got you.” Joe was still standing, one arm locking low on my hips. Some of his playfulness melted into concern. “Can you swim?”
“It would have been nice to ask before pulling me in,” I said testily. “Yes, I can swim. But not well. And I don’t like deep water.”
“You’re safe.” He pulled me closer. “I’d never let anything happen to you. Now that you’re in here, you might as well stay for a few minutes. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
It did, although I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.