Page 11 of Take the Plunge

Kian crawls over to the stack of DVDs and browses through them, calling out titles and sorting them into piles according to the genre. “Some of these are pretty old.” He pulls a face as he looks at the back of one of the DVDs. “Some of these were old when we were kids. Oh well, classic films are fun, right?” He grins. “Anything grab your fancy yet?”

“I don’t want to watch a film.”

Kian puts on a fake grumpy pout, which is equal parts annoying and endearing. “You want to sit there being miserable all day? Not my idea of a fun pastime, but whatever floats your boat.”

“I wish I had my laptop.”

“So you’ve said. But you don’t, so stop pining after it and let yourself relax.” He stands, walks over to me, and rubs my shoulders. “Relax.”

His fingers dig into my tight muscles, kneading the tension out of them. At least they’re trying to. The impromptu massage is painful yet nice. My pulse picks up. Blood races in my body, which is not an appropriate reaction to have.

“Ow.”

He pulls his hands away. “Sorry.” He returns to the DVDs and tells me what the last few are. Then he leans back onto his hands. “I think there are some board games somewhere. I know we have a deck of cards. Do you play poker?”

I sip the coffee. “You’re not going to let up until I do something with you, are you?”

He purses his lips. “I could play solitaire. Granddad taught me how. I used to play while he, Dad, and Rufus went fishing for hours on end. Granddad’s fishing gear will be in the outhouse if that’s something you enjoy doing.”

I lift my foot and wiggle my toes.

Kian laughs. “Oh, right, no shoes.”

“You don’t fish?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re vegetarian. Of course you don’t fish.”

“I haven’t always been vegetarian.”

No. He became one in high school. When he was in year nine if I recall correctly. I think back to the summers we spent here when we were younger. “I don’t remember you ever liking fishing.”

He rocks his feet from side to side. “Nope. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why I stopped eating meat. Even if I wasn’t vegetarian, fishing seems boring.”

“More boring than playing cards on your own?”

“Yes. Of course playing cards with someone else would be more fun.”

“You can’t play solitaire with someone else.”

Kian rolls his eyes. “I know that. But we could play rummy or spades, although we’d need four players for that. Hearts. We don’t have enough players for that either. Blackjack.” His smile lights up his face. “Strip poker.”

He had to say it as I was swallowing some coffee, didn’t he? I almost spit it out but manage to choke it down.

“Aww, you like that idea.” He stands. “I’ll get the cards.”

“No, I don’t.”

He gives me a sad face as he sits again. He’s just like a golden retriever puppy—eager, bouncy, and sweet.

“Actually, we’re going to have to get naked later,” he says matter-of-factly.

My eyes bug out of my head. “Why?”

He lifts his T-shirt and sniffs it. I stare at the sliver of pale tummy flesh until he drops the fabric.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve been in these clothes for at least twenty-four hours, and they’re starting to whiff. By tomorrow evening, they’re going to be gross. So we should throw our clothes into the washing machine while we have showers.” His eyes shine. “Separately.”

“And what will we wear while we’re waiting for them to dry?” I squeak.

“Towels? Or we could use sheets and have a toga party. Or we could do what the naturalists do and wander around naked. It’s warm enough.”