Hate You Not

“Lord, Leah. That’s not very nice. My dad is still a catch.”

“This is so weird.” She paces the floor. “I just can’t!”

She’s so scandalized, she says she doesn’t want to do the collagen masks. Despite her upset, Leah tends to crash as hard as she works and plays. In half an hour, she’s asleep, looking like a Disney princess with her pretty dyed hair flowing over my couch pillow.

I’m not tired at all, so I decide to take Mario and Peach out for a tinkle. That’s how I come to be out in my front yard under the full moon, tapping my toes while the pups take care of business. I turn a few slow circles underneath the stars, hoping to feel something besides weary and a little annoyed—though at who, I’m not exactly sure.

I hear a coyote somewhere, sounding lonely and restless. I hear that, sister. I strain to listen for her howl again, over the song of crickets. And that’s how I hear the splash.At first, the only thing I can think of is an animal. Or snake. Snakes do love the water. Maybe it’s a squirrel, fell in. My mind races as I take the puppies inside. I steal back onto the porch, lock the screen door as a safety measure, and spend a minute listening to the pattern of the splashes.

That’s somebody. Gotta be. Somebody came and took a dip in my pool! Somebody or some animal. But what could get in? It’s so high up off the ground.

I step back inside and use a stool to reach the cabinets over my refrigerator. There’s a gun up there—a little .22 my mama used to carry if she ever had to drive somewhere at night. I check that it’s loaded and take off the safety. Then I slip onto the porch and creep down the stairs.

It’s a quiet enough night. I mean, the crickets are doing their thing, but it’s not windy, and there’s no other noise, like from someone driving by. I can’t even hear the faint sound of county road traffic I can hear sometimes in winter, when some of the trees have lost their leaves.

When I was little, Mama used to watch those USA Network murder movies. I think about them as I creep toward the pool. There’s that one big boulder in the front yard, and a few trees, but no good place to hide. Moonlight spills over the lawn in silvery swaths, fading into skinny pine tree shadows and seeping into wet spots in the grass around the pool.

I stop maybe fifteen feet away from it, and I’m sure it’s a person. Someone big. Their movements aren’t erratic, and it also doesn’t sound like they’re trying to be quiet.

I’m aware, as I move slowly toward the pool, of what I want it to be. Who I want it to be. I’ve read my share of Danielle Steel and Nora Roberts. I like those plots better than the Mary Higgins Clark. I like happily ever afters, and a little strangeness. Some surprise and pitter-patters of the heart, and that sweet roller coaster feeling.

I feel all of that and more as I climb up the ladder that leads over the pool’s side, and I see it’s him.

It’s Burke in the pool, treading water on his back with his head tipped toward the moon, the contours of his gorgeous face outlined in pearly light. Each time he moves, the muscles of his chest flex, making white light and shadows sluice over him.

“Burke.”

I don’t mean to say it. His name rolls off my tongue like a marble. When he hears it, he paddles around to face me, and he smiles a little crooked smile.

“Hey there, June.”

His voice is soft and slow, almost a drawl in this one moment. My chest gives a little kick, like meeting his gaze sent electric current into me. I have the sense that he’s been waiting for me.

His eyes hold mine, and I’d bet the whole world that he has been.

He tilts his face toward the sky again, shuts his eyes.

“What’re you doing?” It’s a murmur.

“Nothing,” I say. “Are you drunk in my pool?”

He opens his eyes again, gives me a smirk. “I didn’t drink it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t have much of the mountain dew, as he called it. Your brother didn’t notice.”

“Why not?”

I think he shrugs. He sinks deeper into the water a little on one side, then paddles more to get himself back up. “Just had some work stuff to take care of.”

“Where is Shawn?”

“He’s at his house with some friends.”

“Oh you mean the whole town and their lady friends?” I roll my eyes.

He grins, but he doesn’t comment. “I wanted to unwind a little.”

“So you came to my house.”

His lips twitch into a smile—smug or abashed?

He strokes closer to me and looks up, dark hair falling over his temple. “Yes. I came to your house.”