hich wasn’t necessarily true. She had plenty of friends who’d take her in. She could go back and live with her parents.
Her frown deepened. No. Not her parents. That would be the worst.
He pulled into the lake’s day-use parking lot a few minutes later, handing over a shopping bag that didn’t have much in it after he shut off the engine. She took it with a hasty thank-you and ran to the bathroom to change in one of the shower stalls. Pulling the bikini out of the bag, she admired the pretty, brightly colored floral pattern and was grateful it wasn’t made out of string.
Once she got the swimsuit on—oh my God, was she thankful she shaved and recently had a wax—she glanced in the mirror and realized it fit her perfectly. And that Tate had included a cute black cover-up dress she could toss on over the bikini.
He thought of everything.
She exited the bathroom to find Tate waiting for her outside, sunglasses covering his eyes, wearing a pair of tropical print board shorts and nothing else, a bag at his feet stuffed with a couple of beach towels. She tried her best not to stare at his chest, but . . .
She stared at his chest. Gaped at him, really.
Grinning, he grabbed the bag’s handles and slung it over his shoulder. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” She snapped her lips shut to keep from drooling. “Thank you for the bikini. And the cover-up. What do I owe you?”
He shook his head and started walking to the lake. She fell into step beside him. “You don’t owe me anything. It’s a gift.”
“But you’ve already done so much,” she started to protest but he shut her up with a look.
Oh, and with the way he grabbed her hand and interlaced their fingers together. “Stop. Just take it graciously, and say, Thank you, Tate.”
“Thank you, Tate,” Wren said, her voice soft, her fingers tingling from his touch.
She could get used to this sort of treatment.
And that was a scary thought.
TATE TRIED NOT to stare. Really, he did. He was doing his best to be a proper gentleman and be respectful, but damn, it proved hard when Wren tugged the cover-up off over her head and exposed her glorious body. He’d checked her out before, of course.
But this time it was just the two of them alone at the lake, Wren wearing a bikini he bought for her and looking hot as fuck.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Kept it over his mouth for a few seconds so he wouldn’t say something stupid, like, Fuck me standing, you’re gorgeous. Or, Hey let’s forget all this foreplay bullshit and go back to my place. Worse, he was tempted to say something desperate and lame, like, Can I just touch you? Please?
Yeah. None of that would go over real well. Not with Wren. He felt cautious around her. Like with every progressive step they made, they ended up taking a few steps back. All because he said or did something stupid.
“You coming in?” she called from over her shoulder.
Tate glanced up to watch her head toward the water, her hips swaying gently, her perfect ass barely covered by the bikini bottom. He tore his gaze from her ass because staring at it too long could cause problems. Like, a-tent-in-the-front-of-his-board-shorts problems.
Jesus. He really needed to get a grip.
He followed after her without a word, the cool water splashing around his legs not doing much to cool his heated libido. She’d already dived smoothly into the water, submersing herself completely before popping back up less than a minute later. She smoothed her hair away from her face, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes as she blinked at him, a little smile curving her lips. “This was a good idea.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he said before he dunked under the water. She said something else, but he couldn’t make it out, her words muffled by the water. He stayed under for a while, opening his eyes to see her legs churning, the bright red nail polish on her toes. He noticed everything about her, every little detail, and it was starting to make him realize something.
He had a . . . thing for her. A thing that wasn’t going away anytime soon. And he wanted to know if she could possibly have a thing for him too. Could she? Could she let down her walls and let him in? Not fight him every step of the way? Most of the time he didn’t even know what they were arguing about. He was over it.
But he definitely wasn’t over Wren.
“Are you part merman or what?” she asked when his head emerged from the water. She scowled at him, like she was pissed, and his defenses automatically went up.
Damn it, he didn’t want to spend today like this.
“Why do you say that?” he asked as he slowly swam closer to her. He didn’t want to startle her, but he was this close to hauling her into his arms and shutting her up. Kissing sounded like a lot more fun than arguing.
“You were underwater for so long. I, um, got worried.” She shrugged one bare shoulder, the water slipping over her skin, and he discovered it was possible to be jealous of water.