Ryder
“Don’t get up. I’ll get the drinks. Em, do you want beer or wine?” I stand and take my pool towel, then dry off my feet from where I had them hanging in the water. Anders is sitting on a lounger at the other end of the lanai. He’s got his head in a book. I’m not sure he even heard what I said.
Em paddles over to the edge of the water on her flamingo float.
“You know, I think I’d like a whiskey. I can get it, though.
” She kicks more with her feet. Her arms barely reach the water.
It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen since, well, since the last thing she did.
Everything’s adorable about Emily. Like the tradition of us all coming over on Thursday nights to hang out when we’re in town.
Though lately it’s been just Anders and me.
And tonight’s Saturday. But things change, and people move on.
“Whiskey it is.” Through the closed accordion doors that open the house up to the ocean on days when it’s not so fucking hot, I make my way back to the bar.
I grab two of the beers I brought and search for a glass for Em.
She’s been off for the last couple of days.
Normally she replies to my texts immediately, but yesterday, well, she was more like me, forgetting to reply at all.
I had to call to see if we were on for today.
She went right to bubbling over with apologies for not getting back to me.
It’s not a big deal, I lie to myself. I can handle not seeing her for a week.
Another damn lie. I’m obsessed with her.
And the trouble is, I can’t tell if she’s into me or not.
A smarter guy would just give up. But then, I’ve been accused of not being a smart guy.
I’m laughing as I run my eyes over the various bottles of whiskey.
“What are you laughing at?” Anders has his hands on his hips.
Shirt off, sunglasses on, he looks like a clear-cut Clark Kent.
I glance out to the pool where Emily is reading on her e-reader while slowly kicking at the water.
Do Anders and Emily have something going on?
He never misses one of these outings. And there’ve been times that I’ve shown up to say hi after coming in from a charter that he’s been here.
I asked her six months ago, and she said no. But things change.
“Em wants a whiskey, and I’m not normally faced with which thirty-year-old whiskey to choose from.” I pull four bottles over.
“Did she say?”
“No. When did she start drinking whiskey?”
“I don’t know.” Anders puts his towel around his neck, and now he looks like the good boy lifeguard in all those old movies my grandmother liked to watch. “Did you ask her?”
I glance at the lanai where Emily is clearly enjoying her afternoon.
“No, I’ll make her a tasting flight.” I put them in the heavy bottom plastic cups for the pool area.
It’s a damn shame too. Whiskey this good shouldn’t ever touch plastic.
But I’m more scared of Emily’s house manager than I am concerned with good bar etiquette.
“Damn, I’ll take one too. Are you going to label what each one is?”
“I think I can remember four brands and years for the amount of time it takes us to drink them.”
“Sure.” Anders finds a pen and paper and writes down the names as I pour. Whatever. When I was little, it was confusing to me that other people couldn’t remember things the way I can.
“Are you going to carry them out?” he asks.
“Since when did I become a stew?”
I can do many things, but I’m not going to carry the tray outside like Shayla or Haley. Anders opens the door, and I place it on the table under an umbrella.
“What’s that?” Emily paddles over. “I see you both like my T-Rex impersonation. It gets the job done.” She maneuvers herself to the stairs and comes out of the pool, holding her e-reader above her head.
Her pink striped bikini has me having to think of my grandmother arguing with my uncle to keep my dick from tenting my swim trunks.
I hold the first glass out to her. “A whiskey flight. A little taste of a bunch of different whiskeys.”
She takes the glass from my hand, but the slight tilt of her head and the way she pulls her sunglasses down her nose tells me I’m mansplaining again. I’m not sexist, though; I’ll mansplain to anyone. Especially if I’m comfortable with them.
I raise my chin and double down. “Yes, I bet you’ve never had one.” I wink at her.
Anders is at my right elbow, and Mr. Perfect is about to put me in my place when Emily cuts off both of us.
“Ah yes, a flight. I remember the time I was trekking across the Sahara Desert. Just me and my entourage. We pulled into a tent for the night. It had a layer of Persian rugs six inches deep and a bed covered in silk scarves. They fed me camel meat soaked in milk and then gave me a flight of water from the six most sacred wells in the Middle East.” She plops back into her float.
“Really?” Anders sinks to the side of the pool, his glass in his hand.
I laugh and catch the sparkle in Emily’s eyes before she pushes her sunglasses back up.
“No.” She giggles and kicks away on her flamingo, sending a shower of water over Anders and me.
“Oh no you don’t. I like my whiskey neat.” I finish my whiskey, and my empty glass clicks to the pebbles on the lanai as I jump in after her.
There’s a splash behind me. Emily’s kicking as hard as she can and paddling with one T-Rex hand away from us. She shoots the drink back and drops the plastic glass in the pool, giving her escape her best effort. To no avail. I’m on one side, Anders on the other.
“Should we?” I wiggle my eyebrows at Emily, then lock eyes with Anders.
“No . . . no. I’ll be good.” Em squirms.
“I don’t think you can be trusted anymore, Em.” The good boy has a wicked glint in his eyes now.
“I agree. That was quite the tale you spouted.” I put my hand on the edge of the float and catch the side of her arm. It’s a warm night, but goosebumps emerge under my thumb. “I think you need to be punished.”
Her eyes flick to mine. Damn, I love the mischief in her eyes. Her hair’s tucked up under her Green Academy hat that she always wears. I reach over and pull it off, tossing it onto a lounger. The sunglasses on her cute nose could cost a thousand dollars and she wouldn’t be upset, but her hat?
“Not the hat.” She reaches for it, and the float twists under her. I grab her arm, and with a gentle pull, she’s in the water. The raft does a quick flip, capturing all three of us in a pink glowing tent.
Emily wraps an arm around my shoulder. Her laughter echoes in the enclosed space.
“I used to love floating around the pool like this as a kid. I’d hang on to each side, letting my legs dangle.
My own little haven. Easton would be swimming laps, and I’d just bob along.
” She hums and it takes me into her memory.
This is the Emily that keeps me coming back every damn week.
It’s the Emily that has me obsessively checking my phone to see if she’s messaged me or sent me a reel about cats, photography, or books. Any scrap of her, I eat it up.
It’s a deep pool. My toes kiss the bottom.
I’m the only one out of the three of us who can almost stand.
With a light touch, I’m keeping us anchored.
I’ve got a good five inches on Anders. He’s holding on to the raft over our heads with one hand.
His other? He’s got it around Emily’s waist, pulling her back to him.
“And what stories did little Emily tell herself while she was bobbing along?” Anders asks.
“No stories, I mostly just tried to make it look like I accidentally got in the lap lane. Bothering Easton was my Olympic sport.” Her neck tilts up, and her head leans against Anders’s chest. They’re not together.
And I’m not giving up. I slide my fingers down to the other side of her waist and slowly pull the three of us closer together.
I laugh. “That’s such a little sister move. Well played.”
Her hand lands in the middle of my chest, and I half expect her to push me away.
I’m an ass because I don’t drop my hand from her hip.
Any second now, she’ll give me a good shove.
But it doesn’t come. Her fingertips grab hold of me.
If I’d had a shirt on, she’d be fisting the cloth, keeping me closer.
My focus flips from her hand to her lips. My dick’s pressed against her leg, my heart slamming against my rib cage as I lean in to kiss her. I’m like a sixteen-year-old all over again.
There’s a squeak, and the pink tinge above our heads bursts away as the flamingo skips across the surface of the pool and bounces off a built-in planter.
Anders has Emily by the waist, and he pulls her the few feet to where they can stand and leaves her there.
He’s out on the deck of the pool in a second and has two glasses in his hand.
Then he’s back in the pool, landing with straight legs and without spilling a drop.
“Second taste, Old Fitzgerald.” He hands the glass to Emily.
She takes it. “Oh . . . Ryder doesn’t have his.”
I push up on the side to the deck and take mine from the tray, then take up my normal seat, dangling my legs into the water, and raise my glass. “To friendship, forged in hardship, maintained with dedication.”
“That’s lovely.” Emily cuts through the water with long strides to clink her plastic glass against mine. I hold it against hers, and the plastic makes a dull thud.
“Clink, clink,” Emily says, a twinkle in her eye.
“Where are your sunglasses?” I ask.
“I—”
There’s a black dot at the bottom of the pool. Drink down, I dive in and retrieve them.
I swim back up closer than I should. “Ma’am.”
“You’re a good diver, thank you.” She slides them into place, and I’m already missing her blue eyes.
She finishes her drink. “If I’m going to drink the rest of those, I’m going to need to order some food.” She makes her way out of the pool at the shallow end.
Anders stares at her. I can’t ignore it. He’s staring at her the same way I do.
Emily stops by the side door that leads to a changing room and bathroom. Her hand on the door, she turns back. “We could watch a movie and eat. Unless you guys are busy tonight?”
“I’m not busy,” I say, with no chill at all. I’ve used up all my chill.
“Me either,” Anders says.
“Great.” She smiles, and the door closes behind her.
I dry off with an oversized towel and sit on a lounger in the sun. I’ll be dry in a few minutes. Anders is doing the same. But my head is churning over how I almost kissed her under the flamingo. I almost kissed her while Anders was holding on to her. And I’m not sure how I feel about it.
I flip over and let my back soak in the sun.
If I’d been asked six months ago what I wanted for Emily, I’d have said some happiness and for people to quit shitting on her parade.
If she and Anders were together, I would have said he’s a good guy and that’s what she deserves.
Now? Now I’m not sure. I want her. And I should have fucking just told her that.
Doesn’t matter that Anders’s become one of my best friends.
“You dry?” Anders asks.
“Yeah.” I grab my empty glass from under the lounger and fish Emily’s empty one out of the pool. When I turn back, he’s staring at me. “Are you and Emily hooking up?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“So you’re okay if I ask her out?” I lift my chin at him.
“You think she’s going to say yes to either one of us?”
“I think we’re here every damn week, and that makes us good enough.”
Emily appears in the doorway to the living room. “Good enough for what?”
“Good enough to convince you to watch something without subtitles.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
“Oh, sure.” Her shoulders drop.
“I liked that French movie we watched last week,” Anders says.
I slap Anders on the back on the way to the living room.