She stood on the ledge, pulling her long brown hair up into a knot on the top of her head. Words. I didn’t have words. “Incredible,” maybe. “Beautiful,” definitely. “Sexy as hell”? Yeah, we’d go with that, too. Her suit was a two-piece and straight out of a forties pinup fantasy, complete with navy-blue bottoms, gold buttons up her stomach, and a red-and-white-striped top that looped around her neck and tied between her breasts in a bow that I was going to undo with my teeth.

God. Bless. America.

I locked my jaw to keep those teeth exactly where they were.

“Well?” she asked, and it took me a second to remember what she’d asked in the first place.

“It’s a balmy one hundred and four degrees, just like every other day of the year.” Though I really was wishing it was a hell of a lot colder at this moment.

“Perfect.” She sat on the edge of the stone, then lowered herself into the water until it covered her to her neck. Then she moaned. “This feels amazing.”

This was the worst idea I’d ever had in my entire life.

Except that it was her idea.

She made her way toward, then past me, stopping at the grouping of shallow stones that made up the east end of the pool. “Come sit,” she called out.

“That’s probably not the best idea.”

“Why?” She tilted her head to the side and leaned back so her weight was braced on her hands.

The water hit her neckline, but it was also crystal clear in that section.

“Trust me. This is close enough.”

“So you’re going to stay out there in the middle and tread water the entire time we’re here?” She disappeared behind a cloud of steam as the breeze shifted, then reappeared.

“Maybe.”

“Suit yourself. So you know the entire town thinks we’re together, right?” she questioned.

Ah yes, the elephant in the room or, rather, in the hot springs.

“I am aware.” I swam a little closer when another wave of steam hid her from me. I might not be able to touch her, not in the way I wanted, but I wasn’t going to deny myself the simple pleasure of looking at her.

“Because you keep putting your hands on me when we’re in public.” She arched an eyebrow in clear challenge.

“Define ‘hands on you.’” It was nothing compared to what I wanted to do.

“You put your arm around me at the diner.”

“You held out your hand first.” I moved through another cloud of steam when I couldn’t see her.

“You held my hand at the Historical Society meeting.”

“You…” Shit, I had nothing. “You hugged me.” There.

“You held on to my waist.”