Brothers of Paradise Series

He shakes his head to get the wet tendrils off his forehead, sending droplets flying around us. “You were always a troublemaker.”

“Someone had to be,” I say, and then I splash him. Hard. A wave of water breaks over his head and he laughs. “You Marchands were always too pristine,” I say, and splash him again. “Especially you. The golden son, the winner of the regatta, a Yale legacy…”

Parker raises his arm in a sweeping motion. “You’re going to get it now,” he says.

I immediately duck under the surface, but a wave of water still crashes above my head. The salt water stings in my eyes. We never did this, in the past. Lily and I would go swimming with friends, sure. And in the distance I’d see the cool kids from school do things like this. Play volleyball, have water fights, and the guys would have the it girls on their shoulders in the water. Parker was at the heart of all of it.

And now he’s here with me.

I’m spluttering when I come up for air. “Truce!”

He laughs again. “So you can dish it out, but you can’t take it? That’s typical.”

“Perhaps I’m just a more peaceful person.”

He turns onto his back and floats beside me. One of his arms is outstretched and the hand rests only inches from me on the water’s surface. “You’ve become more peaceful,” he says toward the sky, “but you have the same fire.”

Perhaps I do. Perhaps I’d lost it, but day by day, I’m finding it again. The excitement, the will to provoke, the bravery. Determination and self-confidence. So much of it had been naive and misguided when I was young, but I hadn’t been scared of anything, and I miss that. The years with Lee had left me scared of everything.

There’s a happy middle there somewhere.

“This is the best time of the day out here,” Parker says. His voice sounds deeper, echoed across the waves. “It’s too early for the families or the tourists. The damn jet-ski rentals haven’t started up either.”

I turn in the water. It feels warm, now, lapping against my skin. My lips taste salty from the ocean.

“I’ve missed this,” I say. “More than I thought I did.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re back.” It sounds layered, the words like a caressing wind. He’s said that a lot. Welcome back, Jamie.

He gets out before me. His workout shorts seem to be perfectly capable of doubling as swimwear, falling straight and wet down his legs.

My clothes? Not so much.

I tug at the elastic of my panties, now soaked through and barely holding up. A quick look down at my sports bra reveals my nipples showing through the polyester fabric.

Excellent.

I cross my arms over my chest. “That was nice.”Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

Parker bends at the waist and grabs the towels he’d brought. He throws one at me, a crooked grin on his face. “You should start doing it more often,” he says. “Wear a bikini under your workout clothes and you’d be all set.”

I wrap the towel tight around myself. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“I’ve been known to have good ones every once in a while,” he says, using his towel to rub his hair. He’s close and big and water droplets run in slow tracks down his wide chest, golden from the sun.

I wet my lips. “Like standing still in the middle of a downpour, right?”

Something changes in his gaze. “Yes,” he says slowly. “I would say that’s one of the best ideas I’ve ever had.”

“Ever? That’s a big claim.” I run my hands up my arms, trying to get warm.

“It is, but I stand by it.” The distance between us shrinks. “Good things seem to happen when you’re standing in pouring rain. Even if I’ll keep ignoring them.”

My breath escapes me. “You’ll keep ignoring it?”

“Yes. As requested.” He lowers the towel. The dark blue of his eyes looks bottomless, a small part of the ocean behind him.

“Earlier, you said…”

“I said what?” he asks.

“That I wanted to keep things professional,” I say. “But we work out together a few times a week. We just went swimming. I wouldn’t say we’re all that professional.”

His lip curls. “No, James, I wouldn’t either.”

“The thing we’re ignoring in the rain wasn’t very professional either,” I say. My words hang in the space between us.

Parker shifts closer. “I’m sorry about that,” he says softly. “If that made you feel rushed in any way.”

“Rushed?” I whisper. “I didn’t feel rushed. I felt confused.”

His eyes darken. “Well, that wasn’t what I was going for.”

“Not by… the kiss. But by your reaction.” I shake my head. “I was the one who started it.”

“But I finished it,” he says, “and not briefly, either.”

No, it hadn’t been brief. Those seconds with him in the rain, with his hands on me and mine fisted into his T-shirt, had lasted an eternity.

Breathing feels difficult.

“Jamie, I can ignore it,” Parker says quietly, “if you truly want me to. But I would much rather not.”

I sway closer to him. “Is this a terrible idea?”

“It might be,” he says, “but I’ve always been a fan of your terrible ideas.”

A laugh escapes me. “Like the purple highlights.”

“I loved those,” he says, and it’s such a blatant lie, because it had looked awful. I did it myself before school started in the fall the year I turned sixteen.

“Liar,” I whisper.

“Never,” he says.

“Do I have to go first again?”

He smiles, slow and wide, and lowers his head. “No,” he says, and then he kisses me. It’s salty and warm and water drips from his hair onto my temple, cold against my flushed skin.