Fifty-seven
Sarah
Why was he smiling?
I slid down the front of Peter’s body as he gently put my feet on the ground.
He swiped a hand over his mouth, trying to hide laughter.
“Why are you laughing?” I stomped my foot, our arms still wrapped around each other. “It’s not funny!”
“You’re right. It’s not funny.” He pressed his mouth closed until he regained his composure. “Hear me out though…I didn’t kiss anyone that night.”
I frowned. “But, Cooper said—”
He shook his head. “Cooper was just repeating what Cody told him. But Cody was lying.”
I scoffed. “What? That doesn’t even make sense. Why would he lie about that?”
“Because, he has the hots for you. And he figured it’d be fun to stir the pot.”
I wanted to protest that such a thing could ever be lied about, but then I remembered…Cody was kind of creepy. My memory revisited that evening on the porch—he had looked at me the same way Andre looked at Jackie. A shiver raced up my back—gross.
But seriously though? I spent so much time being angry about something that didn’t even happen? I demanded, “How do you know this?”
“Cooper had a suspicion that Cody was lying to us. And when Coop confronted him, he didn’t deny it.” Peter’s hand, under my shirt, kneaded my skin. Our hips were still pressed together and it took every ounce of my effort to focus. He continued, “This just happened two nights ago.”
“Wow,” I said, at a loss. “So what about the phone numbers?”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember the specifics of the game we were playing, but I do know it involved Harlan scouting out groups of ladies and kind of playing wingman—trying to get them to leave a number behind for one of us.
It was still completely inappropriate for me as a married man, but that’s all that happened.
And none of it would’ve happened if I wasn’t drunk. ”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Oxygen whooshed from my lungs. “Thank goodness.”
“I’m sorry, Sarah, that you had to—”
“Stop.” I shook my head, relishing in the way my body relaxed. “Don’t—no more sorries, okay? All is forgiven and we’re starting over.”
“Okay—”
“That said, if you ever get depressed again and reach for a beer, I’m cutting your hand off.”
Peter’s shoulders pulsed with a laugh. “Atta girl.”
“Now you can kiss me again.” I lifted my face, going to my tiptoes. But he pulled back, out of my reach. When I frowned up at him, his eyes danced with a wild light, like twinkling flames combating the darkness and my heart rolled.
I lightly smacked his chest. “What’s that look for?”
His excited hands gripped my sides. “Want to cross something off the list?”
“What?” I laughed. “I thought we were mostly done with that.”
He tsked and narrowed his eyes. “You know we’ll never really be done with the list. It’s too much a part of us.”
For reasons I didn’t fully understand, my throat squeezed. Yes, the list was a part of us, and I was glad he said it. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well…” He turned his gaze to the darkness beyond the driveway. “If my memory serves me well, there should be a pond somewhere over there.”
My eyes followed his until they landed on the glistening body of water beside the driveway.
A surprised cackle lifted from my lips. “There’s no way my germaphobic husband will jump in that pond.”
Jump in a pond had been a longstanding list item that we’d never crossed off because as city folks, we didn’t know of many ponds. And up in the mountains were bodies of water like lakes and reservoirs and rivers. But not many ponds.
“I will. I’ll do it.” His voice was resolute. “Meadowbrook might be our only chance.”
“But it’s cold out here.”
“Good. Less algae.”
“We’ll have to walk all the way back—we’ll be freezing.”
He shrugged as his hands slid up, one of them slipping beneath the band of my bra between my shoulder blades. His voice purred over my ear, “Nothing a steamy shower can’t fix.”
His insinuation was crystal clear—a steamy shower together. Want zipped through my body with such ferocity, I struggled to draw my next breath. I could definitely get on board with a cold pond jump and subsequent steamy shower with my husband. That was a splendid itinerary.
Still, I played hard to get.
I screwed up my nose, hemming and hawing. “I don’t know, Peter…I’ll have to think about it.”
He tilted his head, laughter brimming in his expression, because he knew my game.
“I’d hate to catch a cold.”
“It’s not the arctic, Sarah—it’s Texas.”
“We might get muddy.”
“You’ve never been afraid of mud.”
“Plus, I think I’m wearing the wrong clothes.”
Leaning forward, he whispered, “Then don’t wear any.” Driving his point, he kissed my neck, forcing a light gasp out of me. His lips moved against my neck as he whispered, “Just take it all off.”
“Will anyone see me?”
“Nope.” He gave one puff of laughter. “Not even me.”
“Peter!” I smacked his shoulder as a wild laugh shot from my throat.
He stood straight, letting me go and finding my hand. With a gentle tug, he led me off the driveway, through the grass, and towards a rickety dock that looked like the oldest thing on the ranch. When he felt us getting close, he slowed.
“You first,” I said. “I’m not convinced that thing can hold us.”
“Alright. Don’t let me walk off the side.”
“I won’t.”
He lifted a foot, testing it, and we slowly inched down until we stood on the very edge, overlooking the black pond.
A soft trickling sound lifted over the quiet, indicating where the creek fed in.
A sudden swish of fabric cut the moment as Peter yanked his hoodie over his head, kicked off his shoes, and tugged his pants until he stood on the dock in nothing but underwear.
My eyes trailed over him, my breath going shallow.
As much as I loved a spontaneous adventure, I wanted to skip straight to the good part.
The shower.
And everything after.
The rough wood scuffed the bottom of my feet as I removed my socks and shoes and lifted my crewneck over my head, gently folding all my clothes in a little stack. When I was down to my sports bra and underwear, he held my hand and counted down.
Then we jumped.