The Pool Boy

He laughs softly. “Yeah, it has a bit to do with that.” He listens for a moment. When he speaks again his voice softens. “No. I promise that it’s good. It’s a very good thing.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “All right. Keep me posted, and I’ll give you a heads up when I’m going to come by. Take care.”

There’s a soft tap of his finger against the screen as he hangs up and I hear him set his phone on the nightstand. I stretch, my muscles feeling amazing from the work he did on them. Rolling over to face him, I ask, “Who was that?”

James smiles at me, a brilliant smile that tells me he’s happy I’m awake. He drags me across the bed and pulls me against his body. “That was Mike,” he says.

“Ah, the infamous Mike,” I say. “I’m so happy Mike happened to need this week off.”

“Thank god for Mike,” he agrees, and kisses me. He smoothes an arm down my back, pressing me harder against him as he traces my lips with his tongue. I open my mouth for him, and he plunges into me, reminding me of all the other things he’s done and has yet to do with his tongue. God, I could live forever in his kisses.

I pull away for a breath. “Were you supposed to see him tonight?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m hoping you weren’t actually thinking about Mike during that kiss.”

“No,” I say, blushing, “but I don’t want to keep you from seeing your friends.”

James runs a hand along my side, and I suddenly have goosebumps. “It wasn’t anything official. I said I might stop by the hospital.”

It clicks in my brain, then. “You said his dad was having surgery.”

“It was successful. Mike’s been a good friend for a long time, so I know his family. I figured I’d stop by and say hi.” He laughs. “Mike says his dad’s grumpy as hell.”

“We can go,” I say.

“It’s all right. He’s staying in the hospital for a few more days. Right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

I make a face. “I’m not made of glass. I’m upset, but it was just an argument. I’ll survive.”

“An argument where your dad threatened to disown you.”

“Still,” I say softly, “it’s only words. There are worse problems to have.”

He looks at me for a moment. “If you really want to go, a visit might cheer him up.”

“Then let’s go. I really mean it.”

“Okay,” he agrees. I try to roll off the bed and he stops me. “That is, if I can stand to let you out of this bed when you look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you just woke up naked in my bed,” he says, rolling over me and pressing me into the mattress. It feels so good I let out a long sigh.

“I did just do that,” I admit.

“I know,” he whispers, mouth against my neck. “And I can only imagine what you’re going to look like when you wake up in my bed after you’ve been thoroughly fucked.”

My breath is suddenly shallow, and I feel my pussy get wet at the thought. I wrap my legs around his hips and he grinds against me. The fabric of his jeans is rough against my clit, and the grind of it has me gasping already. His mouth slides along my neck, leaving a trail of tingles behind from the heat of his lips and tongue. It’s not enough. I pull his face back to mine as he thrusts against me again, and I groan into his mouth. The muscles of his back are hard under my hands and I can feel the hardness straining in his jeans.

I force myself away from his lips, trying to gather enough breath for speech. “If we don’t stop, we both know that we won’t leave this bed.”

There’s a wicked gleam in his eye. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Let me up.” My attempts at a stern face dissolve into a smile. “I want to see Mike.”

He groans, but he does let me up. I find my suitcase by the wall and dig through it for some clothes. I’m opting for casual again, since that’s pretty much what I brought. I get dressed quickly and grab my makeup bag, determined to make myself look like I didn’t sleep for half the day.

James pulls a shirt from his closet—a thin long sleeve shirt that clings to his body and makes me stare so long that he notices. He pushes up the sleeves while I’m watching and it just makes the look so much better.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“Guilty,” I grin. I force myself back to the mirror. “It’s just so much better than the polo shirt.”

He cracks up laughing behind me.

I finish getting ready and within a few minutes we’re back in the car and on our way. “Should we bring something?” I ask. “Maybe cookies?”

“That’s a nice thought,” James says, “but I don’t think that we should bring cookies to a man who just had heart surgery.”

“Fair point.”

We pull up to St. Mary’s hospital, and I find myself suddenly nervous. It’s clear that Mike and his family mean a lot to James, and I don’t want to embarrass him. Maybe he was right—maybe we shouldn’t have come. But it’s too late to turn back now.

James takes my hand as we walk into the hospital. It strikes me how much I like something as simple as walking hand in hand. I don’t know that I’ve ever had that with another boyfriend. If I did, the feeling wasn’t nearly as natural.

Mike’s father is on the third floor, and before I know it we’re there. As soon as we walk into Mr. Willis’s room, I recognize Mike from his work around our house. He’s a little bit shorter than James, with a young face and close-cropped brown hair. I’m suddenly embarrassed by the fact that I never knew his name until James told me. I never cared to know. Just another instance of my own self-absorption. I hope I can make it right.

I see Mike’s eyes go wide as he sees me. Then his gaze moves to my hand entwined with James’s and I think he’s struggling to keep his mouth closed. “Miss Caldwell,” he says, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

He holds out a hand and I take it with a firm grip and a warm smile. “Hello, Mike. It’s so good to see you again.”

James lets go of me long enough to give his friend one of those complicated guy handshakes before taking my hand again. I’m glad he does.

“I suppose I’ll get none of the attention even though I’m the one who’s admitted?” a voice says.

I look over at the hospital bed, and find that Mr. Willis is not what I was expecting. When James said he was grumpy, I thought he might be a tiny old man, face tangled with frown lines and disapproval. Mr. Willis in reality is closer to Santa Claus with his rosy cheeks and a face tha

t has joy written all over it—even if he is glowering.

“Who did you bring with you, James?”

“Hey, Mr. Willis,” James says, pulling me with him over to the bed. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“They’ve failed to kill me so far, though the nurses are certainly doing their best with this sorry excuse for food.”

I laugh in spite of myself, and Mr. Willis’s eyes focus on me again.

“This is Vera Caldwell,” James says. “My…” He looks at me, and I don’t know what he’s going to say. How do you describe us and the backwards way we went about things? “She’s my girlfriend.”

A glow, warm and golden, slides through me as I extend my hand toward Mr. Willis. “It’s nice to meet you. Sorry about the food.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose and inspects me. “Well,” he says, “I can already tell you’re far too good for our James.” I think I see a hint of teasing beneath his cranky facade.

“I doubt that.”

“Well,” he says, “pull up a chair and tell me about yourself and we’ll find out.”

“That’s a good idea,” Mike interrupts from across the room. “I need to talk to James for a minute about picking the slack back up at work. So you two talk, and James and I will step outside.”

“Sure,” I say, nervous as all get out. I tend to be shy with new people. James gives my shoulder a squeeze as he heads for the door, and I’m left alone with Mr. Willis.

“So,” he says, all pretense of a grumpy old man fading away, “what kind of dirt do you want on James? Because I know it all and am happy to give you enough blackmail material to last for the rest of your life.”

My laugh echoes through the room. I think I’m going to like Mr. Willis.