14. Ariel Cambridge
Chapter fourteen
Ariel Cambridge
I wrap a burgundy towel around my body, then slide my feet into a pair of sandals. After dealing with Brock’s antics this evening, I need to de-stress. I waited until midnight before shimmying into my swimsuit. Surely, he’s asleep by now. I haven’t heard him moving around in a while.
All I want is to go out there, pour a glass of wine, and melt the day away surrounded by bubbles and the scent of the forest. My phone lights up in the dark of my bedroom, making me smile.
I also might send a few flirty texts to my new doctor friend.
Cohen is sweet and funny. We share the same values.
Sutton might think he has a few red flags, but she thought her own husband was a walking red flag.
Her judgement is impaired when it comes to men.
I pick up my phone.
Cohen: I love that you run every day. Maybe we could go on a running date sometime soon?
My mind flashes to me and Brock racing each other. Ugh . I’m spending too much time with him. He’s infiltrating my mind.
Ariel: That sounds like fun! Though I don’t know if I could keep up with you and your sub-three-hour marathon times.
The man has got marathon medals for days. He sent a picture of his closet where he hangs them, and it was overwhelming. I’m more of a casual runner, but it would be fun to train for a race, especially if I was doing it with someone as cute as Cohen.
Cohen: You’d have an advantage since I’ll be distracted by how beautiful you are.
I bite my lip. Who cares if the guy puts sweaters on his dogs when he talks like that?
Before responding, I tiptoe out of my room. If Brock is sleeping, I don’t want to wake him. One, because I’m convinced the man never sleeps. And two, because I really don’t feel like Brock seeing me in my bathing suit.
The living room and kitchen are mostly dark, save for a light above the stove. I head for that, scanning the room and breathing easier when I find that Brock isn’t out here. It takes me a minute to find where the wine is. I spot the bottle on a rack atop the fridge.
I set my phone down on the counter, clutch my towel with one hand, and reach with the other. My fingertips don’t even brush the cork. I huff and try again.
“Need some help?” A deep voice from behind startles me.
I screech in surprise and lose my grip on the towel. It drops to the floor. I close my eyes as hot embarrassment floods my veins.
Brock walks over and reaches up, easily grabbing the bottle. He sets it on the counter.
“I thought you were asleep,” I mumble.
He holds up a laptop charger. “My computer died. I’m still working.”
I drop down and pick up my towel off the ground without meeting his gaze.
“You weren’t going to invite me?” The teasing lilt in his voice makes my skin burn even hotter.
“I think we’ve spent enough time together today,” I mutter.
He chuckles. The sound is too warm and cozy in the dark of night.
I pull down a wine glass and a corkscrew. Brock slides the bottle away from me before I can start to uncap it.
“Allow me.”
I reluctantly hand over the corkscrew. Our fingers brush.
Tingles plague the length of my arm. Dark red liquid fills the glass as he pours.
I dare to look at him. His hair is mussed, and the bags under his eyes have returned.
He’s changed into a t-shirt and swim trunks from the store.
There’s something about him being out of his usual suit that makes him look more vulnerable and boyish. It tugs at my foolish heartstrings.
“You should take a break. Let your laptop charge while you take a dip.”
He smirks. The expression is dark and sultry in this lighting.
“For someone who insists on not liking me, you seem to enjoy inviting me to do romantic things.”
I roll my eyes and grab my glass of wine. “Don’t come, then. Work yourself to death, for all I care.”
“So hostile,” he tsks.
I tuck my phone in the crook of my arm and head for the jacuzzi without saying anything else. His laughter is a warm curl of smoke trailing after me.
“I’m messing with you, Duke. If you really don’t mind, I think a few minutes would be nice.”
“Come open this door for me, and the invite stands,” I say once I realize that I’d be dropping my towel again if I tried to open it on my own.
He jogs over and opens the door with a grand sweeping gesture.
“The theatrics weren’t necessary,” I grumble as I step outside.
The air is thick with humidity, but the heat of the day has dissipated. It’s a pleasant warmth after being in an air-conditioned room for so long.
“I’m going to grab a towel,” Brock says before disappearing back through the door.
I quickly take off the cover and start the jets, then adjust the temperature on the dial.
After that, I hang my towel on a nearby hook and scramble to get in before Brock gets back.
I don’t need him seeing any more of me than he already has.
A glance in a dark kitchen is one thing.
There’s no reason to be on full display.
Brock returns shortly after I’ve submerged up to my shoulders.
This is usually the part where I let out a contented sigh, close my eyes, and relax.
But every inch of me is tense watching Brock.
He hangs his towel on the hook next to mine, then tugs his shirt up over his head.
Is he moving in slow motion? This feels like slow motion.
Lean muscles are revealed. It’s clear that his workaholic tendencies haven’t affected his physique–at least not noticeably. He lowers himself into the tub across from me. I try not to gape at his shoulder muscles above the water.
“If you keep staring like that, I’m going to get worried that you really did have nefarious intentions by bringing me out here,” he teases.
My face flushes, and I hope the blue-toned hot tub lighting conceals it.
“I wasn’t staring at you,” I lie.
He smirks in response.
I reach for my wine glass, take a sip, then grab my phone. I can’t help but grin when I see another message from Cohen.
Cohen: Did you fall asleep on me, gorgeous?
I stifle a giggle on account of Brock being across from me.
Ariel: No, sorry, I was just grabbing a drink. Are you sure you don’t need to get to sleep though? I’m sure you had a long day.
Because he’s a doctor . I internally swoon. He works in the pediatric ward of a local hospital. Imagining a man as attractive as him working with little kids all day turns me to goo.
Cohen: Talking to you is better than sleep.
If I was alone, I’d be squealing right now.
“Who are you texting over there that has you smiling like that?” Brock asks, snapping me out of my bliss.
“Just a guy,” I say as I start typing out my response.
“What would this guy think of you texting him while you’re sitting in a hot tub with me?” he asks.
I shoot him a look. “You and I aren’t even friends, so he wouldn’t think anything of it.”
“Is that so?” He grins. I don’t like the mischief in his expression. “Why don’t we find out?”
I don’t have time to prepare for him lunging across the tub. He snatches my phone and moves back to his spot.
“Don’t you dare message him!” I step across the tub and fumble for my phone. He holds it outside of the jacuzzi. The screen is lit up, and his thumb is moving over the digital keyboard.
“Brock, I’m serious, I need this date.” I reach over him and try to grab the phone. He laughs and keeps moving it away.
“It will make you more enticing if he knows he has a little competition,” Brock says through his laughter.
I keep trying to reach for it, but he switches his hands.
I dive to the other side, and end up crashing into his chest in the process.
We both freeze. Our eyes lock. He looks at me through wet lashes.
In the low light, his irises look so dark, they’re almost black.
I can’t breathe. A droplet of water trails down my cheek to the corner of my mouth.
His gaze follows the path. My palms heat from where they’re pressed against his chest, and I try not to think too much about how I’m quite literally in his lap.
Slowly, he holds the phone out to me. I snatch it and propel myself back to where I was sitting before.
My heartbeat thunders in my ears, and there’s heat pooling in my abdomen that I don’t think is from the warmed water.
I swallow. Neither of us says a word for a while.
I can’t even bring myself to look at my phone and check if Brock managed to send a message.
“Can I ask you something?” Brock’s husky voice is barely audible over the jets.
I look up from the bubbles and meet his gaze. What could he possibly want to ask me after that ?
Maybe it’s the chlorine going to my head, but I find myself answering, “Yes.”