“Oh, God!” I cry as I scramble to grab the bag that I dropped by the pool which has my bikini in it.
Clark doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Not yet!” he calls out as he stands and watches me pulling out items that I’m not even looking at as I try to find the damn bathing suit that I threw in here earlier.
“Chill,” he says and reaches over me and into my bag. A moment later, he hands me my bikini top and bottom just as Tabby clears the tree line with Vera in a stroller.
I slink in the water.
“Couldn’t resist the pool, huh?” Tabby states with her arms crossed as she looks at Clark.
He grins at her. “Oh, come on. You can’t be mad at me. I had to show it all off to Megan. It’s her first time here.”
“I commend you, Clark. I thought I had the younger-sibling thing down, but you win. I can’t even be mad at you. I’m sort of proud. Shit. You somehow weaseled your way out of the last hour of packing. You got here first and haven’t even done anything yet. And somehow, you are still adorable and I can’t be angry. How do you do it?” she asks.
I start laughing and give her my smolder look.
“Uh, no. Just no. And also, I love you, but get your ass up to the grill and get it started,” she commands.
Clark starts to get out of the pool and Tabby averts her eyes. “Commando? Seriously?” She reaches down and covers Vera’s eyes. “Don’t look at Uncle C-Dog’s privates.”
I giggle and finish tying my bikini top that I have been covertly trying to put on for the last minute.
“Megan, enjoy the pool. Seriously, I’m giving Clark a hard time, but you are most welcome to stay in there as long as you want. We have chips, potato salad, and cookies inside when you are hungry.”
“Thank you. I’ll come help you get stuff out,” I say as Clark holds out his hand and hoists me out of the pool.
“OK, I’m going to get Vera settled in the family room,” Tabby says as she leaves the stroller by the back door and goes inside.
I slap Clark’s chest. “I could murder you right now,” I seethe.
He gives me the smolder look again. “Sure about that?”
“Yes,” I grumble.
He increases the smolder and I laugh. “You fucking suck.”
Grinning he roots around in a closet over in the pool house and comes back out with a pair of swim trunks on.
“OK, let’s get this party started,” he says as he heads inside. I follow him and stop when I enter the house. If the outside was crazy awesome, the inside is legit crazy.
“Wow,” I manage.
“You want the ten-cent tour?” Tabby says. I look over and find her on the floor with Vera who is chewing on something that resembles an octopus.
“Sure.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m a hundred percent sure that Kent is most definitely a multimillionaire and also that he spent way too much on this house. As if reading my mind, Tabby opens up a refrigerator that looks like it belongs in a restaurant and starts taking out containers of potato salad. “It’s over the top but trust me when I say that it is way homier now that I live here. You should have seen the crazy artwork he had in this place, and the furniture, or lack thereof. It was like a bachelor designed it and hired a weird interior decorator to administer his concept…oh wait, that is what happened.” She laughs and pulls chips out of a giant walk-in pantry along with a basket of burger buns.
I laugh as I ask her where she wants things. We work in amicable silence, getting all the required items out onto the back deck.
Two by two, all the rest of the Moore clan arrives and lastly Kent shows up, taking over grilling duty from Clark. A few of Kent’s friends, one of which I recognize from the baseball team, stop by and join us as we all eat and play in the pool.
I realize, as the night winds down and Clark and I lean back in the hot tub and gaze up at the stars, that I haven’t once thought about homework, the internship, or anything school-related at all since we arrived here.
“You want to go grab ice cream and head back?” he asks.
“We probably should,” I begrudgingly agree.
He lifts my pruney hand out of the hot tub and kisses the back of it. “I had fun today.”
“Me too.”
He helps me up and we grab the biggest, fluffiest towels that I’ve ever seen and start to dry off before changing in the pool house bathroom.
The pool house has a small bar area, two bathrooms, and a giant room with a sofa that apparently can also convert to a bed. There’s even a washer and dryer out here just for pool towels.
We thank Kent and Tabby and head to the car.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before,” I admit as we drive toward Main Street in Banneker.
“Yeah, Kent’s house is extra,” he says, pulling over and parking along the street.
We get out, and I immediately freeze. Mrs. Miller is walking our way. Shit. If she says anything to my parents, I’ll be getting quizzed about being with Clark.
“Well, look at you two. I haven’t seen you hang out together since you were little itty-bitties,” she says.
“Hi, Mrs. Miller. How are you?” Clark asks.
“Oh, you know, old, but fine. You kids getting ice cream?”
We both nod.
“Well, you better get in there before Frankie closes up.”
“Yep, good to see you, Mrs. Miller,” I say as we hurry away.
“Dear God, I think we just got outed by Mrs. Miller. We may as well have put out a full newspaper ad letting every citizen of Banneker know that not only did we finally make up, we are also dating,” I add.
Clark looks down at me as he reaches out for the ice cream shop door. “Is there a problem with everyone knowing?”
I shake my head. “No, I just…I haven’t said much to my parents, yet.”
He laughs and opens the door. “Well, mine are somewhere in Colorado, so they don’t know much at all.”
Giggling, I walk up to the counter and order my favorite, mint chocolate chip.
We sit outside on a bench and watch as people walk by us.
“Mr. Walters,” I say, grinning over at Clark.
He looks around. “Ms. Jones.”
“You remember.”
“Of course, I remember the ridiculous name game. How could I forget that shit? By the way, I’m still fairly certain that I’m in the lead.”
I roll my eyes. “Right, like you remember the last head count, which was what, like seven years ago?”
“I invented the game. I absolutely remember. I was up to three-forty-six and you were only at three-twenty-five,” he states with a smug smile.
Clark and I had invented the name game while sitting on this very bench. Whoever could name the most people walking around Main Street won. We had a game, set, and match. Each ice cream watching session was a game. Three games were a set. And the match could only be won by the first person to reach five hundred.
“Mrs. and Mr. Watkins,” Clark announces.
“Maybe we should update the game. I mean, we are adults now. We should know that it’s Mary and Greg Watkins,” I suggest.
Laughing, Clark finishes his ice cream cone. “If you say so. Although, changing the game halfway through seems like…cheating.”