Page 73 of Just a Plot Twist
Inme. A deep interest in me. That’s what his expression says. I let out half a laugh, smile again, and turn back around to the door of the pool house.
Suddenly, there’s a gruntywhoop!And then a deep, plunging splash.
Benson’s in and out of the water in such short order that I don’t even make it back over to the pool before he’s already got a towel—courtesy of a nearby guest—wrapped around him.
His face is red. He lifts the towel to the back of his head and rubs it against his hair. His shirt is dripping wet now, positively glued to his frame.
His laugh is sheepish. “So, yeah. I walked straight into the pool.”
I reach up and place my hands on his shoulders, trying and failing to remove the whisperings of a smile from my face.
“Did you get hurt?” I ask, tugging on the towel and sliding it over his broad shoulder.
He cocks his head to one side. “Aw. Are you worried about me?”
“I didn’t see what happened. I only heard it.”
He closes his eyes and takes in a breath. “Please tell me I didn’t squeal like a little girl.”
I tip my head back to laugh. “Maybe a little.” At his paled face, I shake my head. “Kidding. There was sort of a grunt and then a big ol’ splash.”
Mandy arrives with another towel. “Peter did the same thing the other day! Do we need to have guardrails set up?”
“It’s fine,” Benson says. He grabs me in a bear hug. “Claire will help me dry off.”
He presses himself to me and I scream at the cold moisture seeping through my dress to my skin. His chuckle is low as he tightens his grip on me.
I scream again and push on his shoulders, my laugh ringing out over the party. I manage to wriggle free and he chases me. I dodge him and feel his fingertips brush my back. I’m just out of reach.
We’re making a spectacle of ourselves, like a couple of infatuated teens. But I don’t care.
I’m overcome with stark horror.He wants to throw me in the pool!
I scream again as I maneuver around some lounge chairs and pull one in front of my path to slow him down. It works. I’m back around to the pool house door, where I was when this whole thing started, and this time, Imanage to yank open the heavy door. Oof. I slam a hip into the side of the small sink before jostling the door closed. I lock the door.
I’m plunged into darkness and breathing heavily. The bathroom is so dimly lit it takes me a moment to adjust my eyes from the brightness outside.
“Careful. That door is oddly close to the sink.”
I blink. It’s Lora. Her smile is kind, as she leans forward to peer at her reflection in the mirror while she washes her hands. “I keep telling my dad to do something about that.”
“Oh, thanks. You must be Lora.”
And she must notice that I’m out of breath.
“You okay?” She turns from the mirror to look at me.
I lick my lips. “I’m all good. Just running around out there.”
“It is a party, so makes sense,” she says, smiling. “And yes, I’m Lora. What’s your name?”
“I’m Claire Lawson.”
Lora focuses on her reflection, dragging her fingers through the front of her short, dark hair. “Nice to meet you. Are you from around here?”
I meet her gaze in the mirror. “I’m from Longdale, about an hour northwest of here. And you?”
“Denver, mostly. But I spent a few years in Boulder. And now I’m starting my own company in Longdale, actually.” She smiles brightly.
