Page 68 of Drop the Mitts

She shot out the tube into the landing pool, water exploding up around her in a geyser. The world came back in pieces—chlorine in her nose, slick hair plastered to her face, lungs dragging in oxygen like it was dessert.

She blinked, coughing. And then a rush of adrenaline hit her so hard, she started to laugh. Wild, shocked, breathless laughter bubbling up until she was doubled over in the pool, completely soaked, completely unglued.

“Miss, please exit the pool.” Another employee motioned for her to stand and walk forward. She forced herself up on shaky legs, extricated her bikini bottom, and stood on the concrete, her arms wrapped around herself.

The slide wobbled and then—whoosh. André came firing out of the slide like a torpedo, water spraying in every direction as he hit the landing pool. His long body arched up through the surface, every lean, soaked muscle on full display as he pushed himself up and adjusted his damn shorts.

They rode low on his hips as he reached back and raked a hand through his hair, grinning at her like a lunatic.

Grace’s brain short-circuited. “I did it!”

“I know!” He jogged forward.

“Sir, no running?—”

André yanked her up from the step, one hand sliding from her waist to wrap solidly around the backs of her thighs.

Grace couldn’t stop laughing. “I didn’t die.”

“Not even a little.”

“I didn’t get stuck.”

André spun her in a circle, then lowered her slowly to the pool. “You should probably listen to me more often.”

Grace’s hands slid over his slick skin, the heat from his body seeping into hers.

André blinked, heavy lidded. “Looks like I got you wet after all.”

“Ah, sir, I need you both to exit the?—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it,” André snapped, pulling Grace up the step with him. She stepped away from him, lifting her arms to pull out her hair tie and redo her bun. Her heart was still sprinting. Her skin tingling.

Shaky, soaked, and half-certain she left a piece of her soul back at the top of the launch tube, she caught sight of herself reflected in the mirrored edge of a smoothie stand. Hair clinging to her cheeks, eyes bright, lips pink with exertion.

She stopped, staring. Who was that person? She looked . . . hot. Exciting. Fun.Happy.

André grabbed her elbow and led her around the kids’ play area. She reached the chair beside Jenna’s and sank down onto the towel.

Jenna raised a brow. “Umm . . . you look pleased with yourself.”

André struck a pose in front of the group. “I popped Grace’s Cyclone cherry.”

“Ew! Gross!” Emma threw a towel at him, and the guys laughed as he used it to floss between his legs. When he was finished, he tossed it at Grace and winked.

She rolled her eyes and threw it onto an empty chair.

The morning and early afternoon melted into snapshots. Laughter. Food and drinks. Sunshine filtered through the skylights.

Grace couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much—real, full-body,ridiculouslaughter. Emma dared Rhonda to go on the double tube slide backwards. Brett and Curtis made a sport out of cannonballing as close to Tyler as possible without getting caught by the lifeguards. Country somehow convinced one of the teenage employees to let him and Hope go down the tiny frog slide in the toddler area—twice—while Jenna stood at the edge shouting, “Gentry, she’sbarelysitting up!” and “Her neck is stilldeveloping! Stop throwing her like she’s a football!”

Hope squealed with glee every single time.

Grace nursed a frozen cocktail with a little umbrella in it, warm from the sun and from the people around her, trying to pretend she wasn’t aware of every time André threw her a look.

Because he did.

Often.

---