Page 55 of Best Laid Plans

I find them laid out on side-by-side loungers. Tatum is wrapped in her towel, while Natalie lies on top of hers, soaking in the sun, looking every bit like a goddess.There I go again. Jesus. It must be all the skin she’s showing that’s got me so keyed up.

“Who’s hungry?” I ask, setting the platter down. I pass each of them a small plate and glass—well, a sippy cup for Tatum.

While Tatum is happily munching away, I ask Nat, “Do you mind if we Skype my parents? They’ve been dying to meet her.”

“No, not at all.” She downs the last of her lemonade. “I’ll give y’all some privacy.”

“Oh, you don’t have—”

She holds up a hand, stopping me. “I want to.” She leans over and presses her lips to Tatum’s temple before leaving us for the refreshing water of the pool.

“Hey, pretty girl. How do you feel about video calling your grandparents with me?”

She scrunches up her nose in the most adorable way. “Nana and Popsie? Dey already know me.”

Damn, this kid is cute. “No, I mean my parents.”

Tatum’s eyes widen. “You mean I have two?”

“That’s right.”

“Dey get me Christmas presents too?” I bite back a smile at her innocent question. God bless the kid that her biggest worry is getting extra presents under the tree.

“I bet they will. They’re so excited to meet you.”

She eyes me expectantly, and I stand and move to the end of Tatum’s lounger, grabbing my phone off the table and dialing them. I had sense enough to warn my parents that this call was a possibility, so when they answer, it is with bright smiles.

“Oh, my goodness!” My mom’s voice croons through the speaker. “She is absolutely precious!”

“Pretty girl, this is Phyllis and Bob, your grandparents.” Tatum smiles at them, and they smile right back. “Mom, Dad—this is Tatum.”

“Well aren’t you the prettiest little girl ever?” Dad asks, sounding sappier than I’ve ever heard.

Tatum nods seriously, causing them to smile. “My daddy says I’m a pwincess!”

I swear, my dad wipes away a tear. “Then it must be true.” His voice is scratchy. It does something to me to see my dad, who is usually so stoic, this choked up.

They chat back and forth for a while, with me adding input when needed. More than once, my gaze flits to Natalie and her lithe body cutting through the water. Good God, I think I’d give my left nut to get her under me.

After about fifteen minutes, Tatum yawns and her eyes droop shut, so I end the call with a promise to do it again soon. After setting my phone back onto the table, I turn to ask Tatum what she thinks of my parents, but she’s out like a light, curled up on a lounger in the shade. I sit with her for a few more minutes, stealing surreptitious glances at Nat as she swims laps from one end of the pool to the other.

Eventually, the heat wins out, and I head for the pool. I make sure to stay in the shallow end in case Tatum wakes up and needs either of us. Though, judging from the logs that kid is sawing, she’sout.

I strategically position myself to the right side of the steps, propping up against the wall. Not-so-coincidentally, this also happens to be the side where Natalie’s been swimming her laps. I watch her sinful body slice through the water like a hot knife through butter. Her movements are fluid, effortless.

As she nears me, I realize my error. But it’s too late for me to move. I only wanted the best view of her, not what I know is about to happen. Though, let’s be real, I’m not gonna complain, either.

Natalie surfaces, taking a breath before heading back under. She reaches out for the wall, but her hand connects with the hard planes of my abs instead. Her head pops out of the water and she rears back, struggling to find her footing. I reach for her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling tight to me.

“I’ve got you, Small Fry.”

Breathlessly, she blinks up at me, water clinging to her lashes. “That’s the first time you’ve called me that since—well, you know.”

“Is it now?” I try and think back, but it’s an impossible task with her skin touching mine.

She nods, the up and down movement causing her breasts to shake and like the dog I am, I watch. I’m so totally transfixed by the sight of her, pressed against me beneath the surface of the water, that I’m not even sure I’m aware of my actions as I trace the contour of her body with my fingertips.

“Alden,” she whispers my name like a prayer. “Wh-what’s happening?”