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3
TASHA
“God, I wish I could spend the whole summer in this pool,” Vee says.
I look towards her where we’re lying on a twin float mattress, sipping mimosas we poured from a box, magazines tossed to the side. “You do? You wouldn’t get bored?”
Don’t get me wrong, I love relaxing by the pool like any other person, but for an entire long summer? I have more valuable things to do. For two months I can make a difference in some people’s lives. I’m heading south to the US border to assist in the immigrant crisis. As my dad always says: put your money where your mouth is.
“After that semester?” Vee groans. “Jeez, Tash, I need a mental health break, never mind just a mental break.”
I drag my fingertips through the water, glancing up to the veranda where my dad appears. He waves at me but doesn’t say anything. What’s he doing, making that funny gesture with his hand?
Weird.
I flop to my side and the water splashes, wetting us. The cool drops are welcome on my sunbaked skin. We’ve been floating around for more than an hour now. I’m all toasty but dread getting into the water to get out of the swimming pool. Whichever way I look, I see Mom’s roses in full bloom and it’s as if I’m floating in memories of her. Roses were her favorite. She planted them everywhere when I was still in elementary school and now their sweet scent perfumes the air. What she wouldn’t give to see these now… what I wouldn’t give to have her here.
Maybe the problem isn’t with the pool. The problem is spending time in this house that has become a hollow echo of the family we used to be. There’s nothing like the long summer vacation, which used to be filled with joy and love and adventure, to remind me how much I miss my brother, Kevin, and my mom, who used to be the center of our universe.
I blink at the surge of emotion that threatens to spill from my eyes. Twelve years and it still hits me out of the blue like this, my throat constricting, my vision blurry with tears.
Vee slurps at her mimosa and nudges me with her elbow. “Your dad has guests.”
“What?” Having visitors isn’t unusual. Dad is forever hosting lobbyists and other politicians at home, but never on a Sunday afternoon. Like never. If he has something going on over a weekend, it happens on the golf course or over expensive dinners and fundraisers I don’t have to attend.
We’ve floated in a half circle, so that our backs are now facing the house. I go up on my elbow and peer over the backrest.
Dad is standing at the veranda’s railing, a man by his side. They are holding drinks, seeming convivial, but something stirs in my stomach. The man next to Dad towers over him and must be at least six foot five. He’s wearing a black suit jacket and a white buttondown, which only accentuates the tanned skin from the collar up to his cut jaw. That five o’clock stubble is… Damn.
I swallow as my gaze travels to a sensual mouth, which is pulled into an insouciant smirk. And then higher, to where a pair of dark eyes make me feel like I’m staring into two woodland ponds, the type that harbors mythical creatures you don’t want to meet in the dark.
It’s as if he skins me with his gaze and I drop back, feeling exposed. “I think you’ve got to go, Vee.” Whoever this is, I’m not getting good vibes.
“Sure. I’ve got to meet Hank for dinner in any case.” She sits up and the inflatable wobbles. We both giggle, but mine is forced. “Hold on to your drink, I’m going to?—”
“No!” I call out, half laughing, half protesting at the cold water as I get dunked. Goosebumps sprout all over and I pop out of the water, gathering my hair from my face. My plastic glass floats along with our magazines like party corpses, and I just shake my head at Vee. “Thank God you did that, I wasn’t relishing getting back in.”
“I knew it. You’re welcome.” Her focus turns to the men standing on the second-story veranda, which is actually the ground floor. The pool is on the same level as our walk-out basement. “There’re three of them now.”
I glance up as I reach for the magazines and my body stills. That moment where fight-or-flight mode is triggered. Two more men have taken positions beside my dad and the unknown suit, but they don’t have drinks. It isn’t unusual for visitors to come with their assistants, but I get the feeling these guys aren’t here to take notes.
For the first time I curse quietly as I toss the magazines to the edge of the pool. If Dad had told me there were going to be a bunch of guys ogling us while we were swimming, I would have put on a full bathing suit. Not the skimpiest black bikini I recently bought thanks to Vee’s tastes in something this… sexual. I hardly feel comfortable wearing it in front of her, now I need to get out of the water and strut my stuff as if this is my usual attire.
In fact, if I’d known these men would be here, I wouldn’t have come out of my room at all. Timo, my bodyguard, is off on Sundays. Ever since Dad’s career skyrocketed and his life became so public, I’ve been closely guarded in his slipstream, trying to survive and live my life, dodging the flying debris of his career.
“We’ll go round the back; it’ll be quickest,” I say as I make my way to the pool’s stairs and our towels. Thank God I have something to wrap around this much naked skin.
Vee is out first, not body-conscious at all. Let’s just say she’s covered a lot of ground where I’m still stumbling to find the starting blocks.
Vee tosses her towel over her shoulder and reaches for her handbag. “I’ll just drip dry to the car. Need to shower when I get home, and shave, you know.”
I know. Down there. No need to elaborate. I get out of the pool, and with every step it’s as if the eyes on the veranda take me in, measure me, and assess my value. As if there can’t be more to a woman than being a man’s trophy plaything. I pick up my towel and turn toward him, giving him my silhouette, then forcing myself to give him more of a full frontal. See, there, satisfied now?
He doesn’t look away and a steady blush creeps over my skin. It’s as if he can see right through me. Every doubt, every longing, every fear, every last insecurity that comes from living my overprotected life. His gaze shifts. It homes in on my hardened nipples, still perky from the cold water. Water which runs in steady rivulets from my hair down the valley between my breasts to my sex, where his gaze lingers. I breathe in sharply and our gazes clash. For a full five seconds we just stare at each other, then he raises an eyebrow at me, a slow intentional cock of his brow that says she’s tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.
I’m the first to look away as I wrap my towel around my breasts, fingers trembling, heat settling on my cheeks. I really hope Dad doesn’t expect me to entertain that asshole tonight. “You have everything?”
“Yep.” Vee swings her bag over her shoulder. “He’s freaking hot, but fuck. So not in our wheelhouse.”
