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Which brings me to a new feeling.
I can’t believe I’m openly admitting this right now, but I am slightly jealous. These aged women, who half are married, are beyond gawking at Cutter. I’m willing to bet anything, given the chance, they would fool around with Cutter.
Menopause be damned, Cutter is reversing the hands of time with these women as he swims around them and stretches his arms high into the air, which causes muscles to flex.
I hear a tink noise next to me and look to see Katie’s whistle on the ground. Her right hand open, frozen in place.
I snap my fingers. “Hey. You’re supposed to be the lifeguard here!”
“I know,” Katie whispers. “Yeah. I know.”
Great. I’ve lost her.
That leaves me standing at the edge of the pool, watching as Cutter swims and the ladies chase after him. He’s leading the class now. He’s got them all kicking and paddling, all desperate to catch up and place a hand on his shoulder. Or chest. Or face. Or…
No! Absolutely not! These women are old enough to be my grandmothers and great-grandmothers. The only thickness they’re massaging is a fresh ball of dough to bake to go along with their famous spaghetti sauce recipe.
Cutter teeters near the deeper end of the pool. He can reach. None of the horny elderly woman can. They look like zombies in a movie, reaching out and groaning. Except instead of brains, they want dick.
I touch my forehead.
I can’t believe I just had that thought.
I keep an eye on the clock and right around the twenty minute mark since this fiasco began, Cutter tells the ladies that he needs a break. That they’ve tired him out. He rubs his shoulder and these ladies are even more ready to pounce.
Now comes the show…
Cutter walking up the ramp, out of the pool. Water dripping from his insanely perfect muscular frame. Water hugging the muscles of his back for an extra second or two before diving back into the pool. Water dripping down against the waistband of his bathing suit. Oh, and that bathing suit. Clinging to his perfect ass. And his legs. And his feet. Those very nice big feet…
I force myself to look away.
“Now that was a workout,” Miss Dailey says to me.
“I haven’t been that heated up by a man in twenty years,” Lorraine says.
I can’t hear any more of this.
I turn away.
Cutter is now walking right toward me. Of course he doesn’t have a towel.
I’m not sure what his end game is here, but every freaking woman in and near this pool is having heart palpitations because of him. Me included.
“Just a quick swim,” Cutter says. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“What does that mean? I don’t do surprises. I don’t like when someone makes plans for me.”
“I know,” he says. “That’s why I did it.”
Cutter has the balls to then wink at me and walk off to the men’s locker room.
So I bolt from his house and he just shows up to my work and tells me he has plans for me? Like he’s the boss of me? Like I’m going to actually listen to his command?
Did this hunk get hit in the head with a baseball bat or what?
Saxon doesn’t have a care in the world when I lie to him and tell him I have a work meeting. It’s the sensible thing to do. The kind of lie that parents need in their back pockets. I’m not sure how to tell my son that I’m going to sneak around and fool around with an injured baseball player who will be gone soon enough anyway.
All Saxon needs to survive are some video games, barbecue chips, and iced tea. He’s like a little king in his castle in his room. I tell him I love him. He says he loves me. His eyes don’t leave the screen for a second.
