Baking Me Crazy (Donner Bakery, #1)(37)

In the water, she could walk easily and confidently and smoothly. To keep myself from staring at her with a giant dopey smile, I dove under, swimming around her and tweaking her side as I passed behind her. When I came up for air, she was ready, shoving her hand forward and catching me in the face.

Water went up my nose, which had her cackling.

I narrowed my eyes at her, and she held up her hands. "Come on, we're even now. Let's play nice."

"Fine." I pointed a finger. "Though we're hardly even. I had water up my nose, Sonic."

As she threw her head back and laughed, I knew that an afternoon in the pool was exactly what the doctor ordered.

She floated on her back and let the sun kiss her face. I swam lazy laps around her. We talked about the bakery, what recipe she wanted to try next, and the funny way Joy seemed to be very much in love with Cletus Winston.

With the chill vibe we had going, the two topics that I actively avoided was PT guy and my interview.

Occasionally, like now, she'd hoist herself up onto the edge to let her suit dry off. The water beaded on her skin, drying quickly in the hot sun.

Which was good because then I couldn't spend too much time thinking about how I wanted to lick it off her.

Whatever tension had been present in the gym was nowhere to be found, but I couldn't figure out whether I was disappointed by that or not. Here was the confusing thing about my feelings for her: I wanted to be with her, but I couldn't imagine losing my best friend either.

The current state of our friendship was one of the most certain, unwavering things in my life.

If Joss experienced the proverbial light bulb moment, if the blinders fell off and she suddenly looked over at me with giant red hearts for eyes, how much of that friendship would disappear?

As I did another lap, pushing myself a little bit faster and a little bit harder, I had to recognize that it was one of the biggest reasons I'd kept myself clipped to a self-imposed leash. My arms churned furiously through the water as it sliced over my body.

I'd never thought of it that way. My own ridiculousness, the one I'd readily admit to even if my brother had been reticent to point it out, was fueled by a fear of how our friendship might change.

I was cursed. But she wasn't.

What if I was the first person in five generations of Buchanan to fall in love with someone who wouldn't love me back?

When my fingers touched the edge of the pool, I turned and pushed off with my feet for another lap.

Harder this time, and faster by just a smidge.

I was probably nearing the midway point of the pool when her hand touched me. I stopped, shaking the water out of my hair as I caught my breath.

"Okay, Michael Phelps." Her eyes searched my face. "What's chasing you in that head of yours?"

My chest heaved, and her gaze flickered down to it briefly. "Nothing," I lied.

You.

It's always you, and I have no fucking clue how to tell you that.

My mouth opened to say something, anything, but no words came. A drop of water slipped down her face and disappeared into the line of her neck. I reached out to wipe it away even though it was gone. Joss swallowed but didn't move.

"Are you sure?" she whispered. "I feel like … like that's how I must have looked when I was doing chin-ups the other day."

I smiled a little, breaking my gaze away from hers.

It was an accurate comparison. Standing behind her that day, she had the furious movements of someone trying to chase demons away by sheer force of will. Instead of stepping in, even when I saw her back and arm muscles shaking underneath her skin, I let her go until she couldn't go anymore.

Joss shifted forward in the water. If I wanted, it would take very little effort on my part to slide my hands around her hips, up her back, to cup her neck with my hand, and angle my face to hers.

But if she pushed me away, if she recoiled, I didn't know that I'd ever recover from that. Worse, if she laughed me off or acted disgusted, it would be too much after so many years of waiting to know what she tasted like, or how our lips fit together.

Pulling in a deep breath, I sank underneath the water so I could take a second to regroup. Nothing on her face made me think she had anything other than swimming on her mind. No bright blinking sign that said, "Kiss me, you moron."

Tipping my head back as I came back up, I slicked my hair back with both hands. When I opened my eyes, she was closer again. Just slightly. Whether it was her or me that moved, I couldn't tell, not with the way the water slipped and slid around us.

"You didn't really answer me," she said, eyes daring me to look away from her. Her lashes were spiky and dark, and this close, I could see the light smattering of freckles spread over her nose and high cheekbones.

"Nothing is chasing me," I told her honestly. I swallowed. "But sometimes, it feels like it'll always be the opposite."

Her eyebrows bent in a V. "You chasing something?"

My hand, under the water, moved forward until it brushed against her hand, but I held her eyes steady with mine. "Always."

Joss's finger shook slightly as she moved it under mine, curling the edge around mine. Her chest heaved as she inhaled. "Wh-what are you chasing?"

I had to close my eyes, and the water pulsed against my chest when she took a step closer.

If she came much closer, she'd feel me against her stomach, because I was so turned on I could hardly speak. Hell, if she looked down, she'd know.