Playing the Player(21)

Oh grilled cheesus. The cookie suddenly tasted like dried rice sticking to my tongue. I groped for a subject change, but my mind was blank.

“Did she ask what you’d do if the house caught on fire?” He smiled, blissfully oblivious to my internal agony.

“I, um, can’t remember. There were a lot of questions.” Like how I’d deal with you, for instance.

He nodded, his smile now as blinding as a thousand suns. “Yeah, but I got the feeling Mrs. G. really wanted me to have the job.”

I was about to lose my cookies, literally. I wondered if I should go to confession and spill my guts to a priest.

Why did he keep smiling like that? It only intensified my guilt. I scowled at him, and his smile faded.

“So, uh, I read the binder last night,” he said. “Well, most of it.” He took a drink of water. “Part of it, anyway. The schedule page.”

A tiny bit of my guilt dissipated. Of course he hadn’t bothered to read the whole thing. He’d probably been having his own brand of naked party. As soon as I thought about that, I felt my face burn. It was my turn to chug water.

“So anyway, about today’s schedule.” He sounded hesitant. “Are you sure the kids will sit still for a documentary? About water conservation?”

I sat up straight, relieved to feel more of my guilt disappearing. We lived in a semi-arid climate, and the more educated people were about conserving water, the better.

“I suppose you have a better idea?” I snapped.

He blinked in surprise, then fiddled with a napkin. “Well, yeah, maybe. I was thinking since it’s going to be so hot today we could take them swimming.” He grinned. “Gilly’s already dressed for it.”

Visions filled my mind, of me standing in the shallow pool at my lesson, tentatively blowing bubbles in the water. Other images, too, which I couldn’t allow to distract me.

“I don’t think the kids can swim very well.” I stated this with as much authority as I could muster.

As he ran a hand through his hair, tugging the shoelace out, I had a fleeting fantasy of running my own fingers through it. Startled, I shivered.

“Are you okay?”

I hoped he wouldn’t notice my heated cheeks. “I’m fine. But I don’t think a swimming pool is a good idea.” My panic made me sound bitchy.

He sighed and looked out the window, then turned back to me, eyes narrowed. “I’m teaching Max to swim, you know. And I’m a certified lifeguard. They’ll be fine.”

How many secrets could a person keep inside before they came shooting out like a geyser? “I just…just don’t want to.”

A long silence stretched between us.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” He stood up and stalked to the family room, where he plopped on the couch.

I felt awful. But I couldn’t bring myself to apologize for snapping, or to explain why I didn’t want to go to the pool. I didn’t want his pity.

The only sound was the muffled giggling from the kids playing upstairs.

Slade’s phone pinged and I watched him text someone. Alex? A girl? Girls? I wondered what he was texting. Probably, Save me from the psycho Bird Brain.

Footsteps thudded on the stairs, then the kids streaked into the kitchen. For real. Neither one of them had a stitch of clothing on.

“Gillian! Max!” I pointed toward the hallway. “Both of you. Get dressed right now or we won’t have any fun today.”

“What are we doing, anyway?” Gillian asked.

“I’ll tell you after you’re dressed.”

She and Max looked at each other. Neither of them moved.

Slade sauntered over, looking completely unfazed by the naked kids. He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re going to watch a movie. But only if you’re dressed.”

The kids jumped up and down. “Movie! Movie!” Max shouted. I’d never seen him so excited.

“What movie?” Gillian asked.

Slade shot a wary look at me then smiled at the kids. “It’s a surprise. Go get dressed.”

They tore out of the room like Olympic racers and thundered up the stairs.

“It’s not too late, Trina. You can still change your mind. Watch the boring documentary, or swim?”

Why was he so stubborn about getting his way? I shook my head. “If you’d bothered to crack the binder I gave you, you’d know that swimming is nowhere on the schedule.” I glanced at my watch. “In fact, we were supposed to start the film fifteen minutes ago.”

His grin was disgustingly sexy, even when he rolled his eyes. “I feel sorry for your future husband. You should come with a warning label stamped on your forehead.”

Anger flared in my chest. “You need a warning label, too,” I shot back.

He cocked an eyebrow, still grinning. “Yeah? What would mine say?”

Warning: Player. Slacker. Smart-ass. Lazy. Sexy. Wait, what? “Never mind,” I muttered.

He laughed softly. “You really need to lighten up, Clemons. I’m just messing with you.” He took a step toward me. “So, how about a swim?” His eyes scanned me from head to toe. “You could work on your tan.”

I crossed my arms protectively. “I don’t tan.”

His eyes, full of challenge, locked onto mine. “So I noticed.”