Chapter Four
Ryan
It only takes twenty minutes to drive to Derek’s house.
I sing along to the radio the whole way, my mood lifted by the knowledge we’ll be spending the afternoon together.
It’s only been a week since our movie night.
I don’t want to read too much into it, but my imagination runs wild, and I’ve been smiling ever since Derek texted me earlier in the week about getting together again.
I pull up to the kerb and climb from the car after grabbing my bag from the passenger seat.
“Hey, Ryan! Glad you made it,” Derek calls out from the front porch. He looks good. More than good.
I grin as I make my way over to him. “You bet. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
“Come on in.”
I follow him into the house, checking it out in daylight as we make our way down the hall into the large open-plan kitchen and living area. He’s renovated over the last few years and the house is amazing. I tell him so.
“I know I said it last week, but I still can’t believe what you’ve done with this place. It’s hard to imagine it’s the same house you bought.”
He laughs. “It’s been a labour of love.”
Derek’s house is stunning—warm and welcoming, a true reflection of its owner, I can’t help thinking.
The room is spacious, light and bright, the furniture modern but comfortable looking.
He’s stuck to a neutral palette with light floorboards and lots of indoor plants.
The wall to wall windows provide an amazing view of the backyard, bringing more of the green inside.
We exit onto the patio and the pool comes into view.
It’s crystal clear, sun reflecting off the surface and I can’t wait to get in.
An outdoor table sits under a pergola, complete with an impressive barbecue.
“Wow, Derek, this is amazing. Paradise. I feel like I’m at a resort.”
He grins and claps me on the back. “I’m glad you like it. I think it’s pretty special.”
“Trust me, I think so too,” I say. The sun’s warmth on my skin, the sweet scent of the garden, the sound of water gently lapping against the pool’s edge, Derek’s wide smile—definitely special.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get changed and hop in the pool for a swim before lunch. The water’s perfect.”
“Sounds good to me,” I agree, stomach fluttering with anticipation as I look forward to the day ahead.
He leads me to a guest bedroom.
“You can get changed and leave your stuff in here. There’s a beach towel on the bed,” he says. He turns to leave, but stops in the doorway. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Sure. That’d be great. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
As I strip off, I take in the artwork on the walls and the quality furniture that blends comfort with style.
The whole house is a testament to Derek’s success, although it’s not surprising he’s done so well for himself as he’s always been driven and ambitious.
For a moment I reflect on my own living arrangement—nearly thirty-years old, bunking down in my brother’s apartment—and my chest hitches.
You’d think I’d have more to show for myself by now.
All I have to show is a failed relationship. I sigh and drag on my speedos.
“Hey, Ryan,” Derek calls out from somewhere down the hall, drawing my attention back to him. “You coming out or what?”
“Sure,” I call in reply. I grab the towel and head back to the kitchen where I find Derek pouring from a bottle into large glasses.
He looks up at my approach. “I…ah… I hope lemonade is okay.”
If I’m not mistaken there’s a flare in his eyes as they rake over my body and I warm at the thought. I want his eyes on me.
“Lemonade is perfect,” I say, draping the towel strategically over my shoulder. “Can I give you a hand?”
Derek nods, and his gaze flicks to mine. He gestures to the drinks. “Grab a glass and those chips, would you?”
We take our drinks and snacks out to the pool area where we settle on sun lounges.
A large umbrella provides shade but the sun reflects from the pool regardless.
Derek points to the bottle of sunscreen on the small table between us.
As I rub sunscreen over my arms, I’m tempted to ask Derek to apply some to my back, but it seems like such an obvious ploy to get his hands on me.
The question rests on my tongue, but then Derek utters the words.
“Want me to do your back for you?”
I freeze.
He doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing the bottle from my hands and stepping closer.
My mouth goes dry as I nod and shuffle forward on the sun lounge.
He stands beside me and puts a generous amount of the cream on his palm, before rubbing both hands together.
It’s so like Derek to take the chill off before putting it on my skin.
When his palms touch my shoulders, it takes every ounce of my self-control to hold back the moan.
The movement of his hands over my shoulders is everything I thought it would be, sensual and setting every nerve on fire.
He works the lotion into my back, running his hands down my traps.
I focus my energy on staying perfectly still when all I want to do is luxuriate under his touch, to purr like a cat.
Once every inch of my back is covered, his fingers linger for a moment, before slowly slipping away.
It takes a moment for my senses to return.
I blink away the dream-like state and raise my head.
Derek is standing over me, brows drawn together.
I hold his gaze trying to read his emotions, but his face is in shadow.
There’s a strange tension between us and not knowing what else to say, I jump to my feet. “C’mon. Are we going in, or what?”
Derek grins. “Last one in has to man the barbecue.”
He turns, takes a few long strides and launches himself into the pool.
It’s worth losing the race to watch his dive—for a broad man, he’s elegant as he slices through the water.
I watch him swim a lap, his form proving he’s a strong swimmer.
He breaks the surface in the shallow end, water sluicing off his body as he shakes his head like a dog.
He blinks his eyes open and sees me standing on the edge of the pool. “I guess I won, then,” he says.
His laughter rings out into the afternoon as I jump in.
He was right—the water is perfect. Cool but not too cold. I float on my back and stare at the azure blue sky and allow the peace of the water to wash over me. That is, until I’m doused with water. I splutter as I turn upright, my feet hitting the bottom of the pool.
“Derek!” I splash him back in a move reminiscent of long ago summer days spent at the local pool with friends. “Race you to the other end!” I challenge.
“You’re on!”
We both take off, swimming with all our might to reach the opposite end of the pool, although in all reality it’s barely a few strokes. I touch the edge before him, declaring my victory with a triumphant whoop.
Derek waggles his brows then pushes off the wall with his feet.
We swim for a while longer, floating and circling each other. It brings back happy memories but at the same time, it feels different, as if things have changed. Well, they have.
After some time, we drag ourselves from the water and flop back onto the sun lounges.
The scent of chlorine overpowers the aroma of my lemonade, which is now lukewarm.
I drink it anyway, swallowing the diluted liquid.
We pass the afternoon alternating between swimming, dozing, and conversation.
When the sun dips lower in the sky, we finally wander over to the barbecue.
Despite me losing the race to the pool, Derek takes charge of cooking. I watch him as he flips burgers on the grill, his biceps flexing with each turn. The scent of sizzling meat makes my stomach rumble.
“Damn, that smells good,” I comment, trying to focus on the food instead of the man cooking it.
Derek chuckles and shoots me a grin. “You’re easy to please.” He flashes a wink that sends my heart racing.
Before too long, we’re sitting at the table digging into juicy burgers. There’s not much conversation as we chow down. I finally push my plate away with a satisfied groan. “Thanks. It’s great to have someone to cook for me.”
“Anytime,” he says.
“You’d better be careful with what you offer because I might take you up on it.”
Instead of telling me to get stuffed as I expect him to do, Derek only smiles and shrugs, as if he’d be only too pleased to prepare more meals for me. I feel my face heating, and change the subject. “The redecorating, the garden, cooking… Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Give me some time, I’ll think of something.” Derek chuckles. “Actually, there’s one thing I’ve been meaning to get to…converting one of the bedrooms into a home office.”
“Really? That sounds like a great idea.”
“Yeah. I’m trying to work from home a lot more now, so it would be great to have a proper setup.
I was thinking of putting in some French doors to open the room onto the patio, make it more inviting, you know?
I was wondering if you’d like to give me a hand with it.
I can do the decoration, but you’re an expert in all things construction. ”
My interest is instantly piqued—not only by the prospect of helping Derek with the project but also by the thought of spending even more time together. “Of course,” I reply without hesitation. “I’d love to.”
“Great,” he says, beaming. “You can make sure I don’t knock out a wall and take the rest of the house down with it. C’mon, I want to show you the room and get your ideas. No time like the present, right?”
I laugh and follow him back into the house, enjoying watching his board short-clad arse as I trail him down the hall.
We pass the guest room, entering the next door down.
My eyes are glued to Derek as he paces the room, pointing out what he envisages his home office to look like.
“Obviously, this is the window where the new French doors need to go.” Then he turns and spreads his arms wide, indicating the far wall.
“Along here I’d love some kind of custom cabinetry for storage and some bookcases. What do you think?”
The muscles of his back flex with each movement, his shoulders bunching under what seems like acres of tanned skin. My mouth goes dry at the sight as all my blood rushes south.
“Ryan?”
I raise my eyes to meet his as he looks over his shoulder, brows drawn. “Huh?”
“The cabinetry,” he says as he turns fully around. “Is it something you could manage?”
My gaze drops to his chest, where a smattering of hair dusts over his pecs.
The desire to touch him has never been stronger and I pray that he doesn’t notice how turned on I am.
I step forward to camouflage the state I’m in, approaching the wall and knocking on it with my knuckles.
I cringe inwardly—he must think I’m crazy as I listen for the sound of the stud.
“Yea—” My voice cracks. “Yeah, this would work, and you could put your desk over there, making the most of the natural light and avoiding the glare on your screen.”
I give myself a mental pat on the back for sounding somewhat sane with my comments.
Derek grins. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
We spend some time talking through his ideas for flooring, and my suggestions for lighting. By the time we leave the room, I’m on a much more even keel.