Her hands twist together in her lap. "I--I broke off my engagement a few months ago," she says in a rush. "It wasn't anybody's fault, it just--he just wasn't the one, you know?"
I nod, hiding my sigh of relief.
We chat while I run the vacuum. She's on vacation for two weeks. She's a writer.
I check the chemical levels. The pool's in pretty good shape; only needs a new chlorine tablet. I put on gloves and add it.
"Anyway," she says, getting up from the lounger, "would you like a bottle of water?" She sticks her pretty feet into flip-flops and starts toward the cabin, then stops and looks out past it. "That is such a gorgeous view. I can't even imagine being lucky enough to live here."
I'm looking at her and not where she's going, until it's clear that she's not looking where she's going either. I shout, but it's too late. She's already fallen into the pool.
Oh no. Oh shit.
I drop the brush fast and jump in, praying she's okay, scooping her up in my arms. She's warm and soft, a real armful of woman, but I'm not satisfied until she opens her eyes, coughing on pool water.
"I'm okay," she chokes out. "I'm okay. I can swim."
"Good," I whisper, trying to fight my arousal.
"The pool's not even deep," she protests, but she doesn't move out of my arms. Doesn't squirm the way you do when you want someone to let you go.
"I just wanted to make sure you didn't hit your head."
She takes a deep breath in, not coughing this time. "I'm okay. Really. I just feel really stupid right now."
"Well," I joke lamely, "it wouldn't be the first time someone's fallen for that view."
At that, she looks right up into my eyes, and I fall, all over again. Up close, her eyes are so beautiful that I can't look away from them. I keep staring into them, and she keeps staring back at me, and I know this is right: Delia in my arms. Delia and me.