See what I mean about her not letting people take care of her? I palm her arm.
“As my life assistant coach, you should recognize I need a little vitamin sea right now. As in water. As in ocean. This weekend isn’t going to be about you corralling my schedule. I didn’t invite you to work your tail off doing the usual administrative duties.”
“Work hours, remember?”
“We’re in neutral territory. Work hours aren’t written in stone this weekend.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and walk her to the window again. “Think of them as written in the sand.”
Just when I think she’s taking in the spectacular view, she sighs.
“If I could send one email…” She gives me a slightly guilty smile. “You can’t keep me from working.”
“Wanna bet?”
“What about you? You’re the workaholic. Is it killing you not to check in with Josie?”
A little. But I’m fighting the urge with both hands.
“Of course not. I’m here with you. What else is there to do?”
It’s the right answer. She smiles at her shoes. “I guess I can email Marla when we come back to the room.”
“Nate’s assistant has handled everything. If I’m supposed to show up for a photo opportunity, or a speech, or a fucking parade, she’ll let me know. Your only job while you’re here is to have a good time on my arm and by my side.”
“We should probably talk about that.” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “I can’t literally be on your arm. Not with your family here.”
While I agree it might require explaining, I also don’t plan on groping her in public. “Trust me, Cris, they’re not going to notice. You come to almost every event I attend as it is. Nobody expects me to drag a date to Florida for a fundraiser. They’re going to look at you and see my best friend. My coach. And if they ask why you’re not running around working your fool head off, tell them I gave you the weekend off. After all, it’s the truth.”
Fluorescent orange strings spilling from her open suitcase capture my attention. I pluck the teeny-tiny bikini top and dangle it between us. “Is this the swimwear your brother warned me about?”
She grabs the bikini top and slams the suitcase shut. I wrestle with the lid of the suitcase while she makes a meager attempt (while giggling) to keep it closed. My strength bests hers. I pull out two scraps of fabric. Tiny triangles make up the top and bottoms of a bikini I absolutely cannot wait to see her wearing.
“You’re going to need a lot of sunscreen if you wear this.” I grin.
“Maybe I should buy a new one. I forgot how much daylight is out there.”
“Over my dead body.” I toss the bikini on the bed and rub my hands together. “The best way to ensure we don’t miss an inch of skin is for you to get naked. I’ll apply the sunscreen and then you can put on your bathing suit.”
Hands on her hips, she cocks her head to one side. “Oh, is that how it works?”
“Totally how it works,” I say as earnestly as I’m able. “Strip.”