Heart of Glass (Fostering Love 3)

“What, you think I couldn’t do those things?” she asked accusingly.

“Hell, I bet you could do any of them,” I replied, quickly realizing my mistake. “But you don’t have the tan for construction or flagging, I’ve never actually met an underwater demo expert, but I’m pretty sure they’re rolling in it and your house is kind of small—”

“Hey!”

“—and I just can’t imagine you plunging other people’s shit every day.”

“Maybe I just take really good care of my skin,” she argued, grinning.

“There’s no way,” I laughed. “I mean, I’m sure you do. But it’s impossible to stand out in the sun all day, even with sunblock, and not get some sort of tan.”

“I am a bit vampirish looking.”

“Surprising, considering where you live.”

“I really do take good care of my skin,” she whispered conspiratorially, before raising her voice to a normal level again. “But you’re right. I don’t work outside. I actually work at a tattoo shop.”

“Oh yeah?” I glanced at the tattoo on her shoulder, not letting my eyes wander any farther south even though I really wanted to.

“Yeah, I do piercings, though.”

“Cool.” I nodded. I didn’t have any piercings, I’d never even gotten my ears pierced, but I knew plenty of people who did. Ani had a couple different ones, always adding to them when she felt the urge, and currently had a septum ring. “You ever have to pierce any interesting places?”

“I’ve pierced everything,” she replied, with a roll of her eyes. “Etta,” she called, “come back this way, baby.”

She waited until Etta was a little closer to us, then relaxed again against the steps. “I’ll just say, women generally whine a whole lot less than men. Higher pain tolerance.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yeah. You wouldn’t believe the amount of guys that come in, planning on getting their dicks pierced on a dare, and then completely punk out once they see the needle. It was worse in San Diego, though. Half the idiots would come in with a little liquid courage and we’d have to turn them away. No piercings or tattoos if you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, piercing my junk has never been an aspiration of mine,” I mumbled, cringing at the thought. I covertly slid my hands away from my junk when I realized that I’d cupped them in front of me in an instinctual protective move.

“Different strokes,” she said with a shrug. “Women usually come in because they actually want the piercing, and they just want to get it over with before they lose their courage.”

“I’d imagine it hurts like a—” I stopped talking and glanced at Etta before motherfucker came out of my mouth.

“I don’t know. Tattoos take a lot longer, and a lot more people have those. Sit in a chair for hours while someone pricks you over and over, or take five minutes and be done, you know?”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, just as Etta decided to grace me with her presence again.

“You name?” she asked.

“My name’s Trevor, remember?”

“Twevo.”

“Yep.”

“Twevo,” she said my name and then continued to speak, but I had no clue what she was trying to tell me. I listened for a word that could give me a clue, but I didn’t hear a single one that sounded even vaguely familiar.

“You want us to swim with you?” Morgan asked.

“Twevo,” Etta clarified.

“Hey, what about me?” Morgan acted affronted. “I’m your best friend!”

Etta sighed like she was really put out, then giggled as Morgan dipped underneath the water and swam toward where we were sitting.

Morgan popped up just inches from Etta and the shriek the little girl let out practically shook the walls as she scrambled to swim away. Shooting me a grin, Morgan dipped back under the water as Etta yelled in excitement, thrashing her way across the shallow end of the pool. Once again, as soon as Etta paused to try to find her mom under the water, Morgan popped up and startled her, making her scream in laughter.

I’d been holding it together up to that point, but watching them play almost knocked me to my knees. I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life. Etta started splashing her mom just as I dipped down to swim toward them, my heart in my throat.

“Hey, I thought there was no splashing,” I said roughly as I slowly made my way in their direction.

“Oh, that’s just for us,” Morgan replied jokingly, sputtering as she wiggled her fingers at Etta like she was going to “get” her. “The no-splashing rule doesn’t apply to Miss Henrietta.

“Oh, no, Etta!” Morgan warned as I dipped lower in the water. “Trevor’s gonna get ya!”

I dipped below the water just in time to see Etta’s little legs going a million miles an hour as she tried to swim around me. Her movements were spastic and seemed like they’d get her nowhere, but she moved pretty quickly across the pool as I followed her, finally popping up when I ran out of air. As soon as I’d sucked in a bit of oxygen, my face was completely submerged again in the sheet of water that Etta had somehow sent my way.