“Right,” Geoff says. “Slipped.”
Jasper mutters something under his breath before waving his good hand toward the hot tub. “Anyway, since I can’t enjoy it, the rest of you might as well.”
Geoff eyes the bubbling water with interest. “Now that is a good idea. Three hours at a hospital is the opposite of relaxing. I think I’ve earned a hot tub soak.”
Christa claps her hands. “Excellent. Everyone in.”
I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
Geoff gives me a pointed look. “Theo. Don’t be boring.”
“I’m not boring.”
“You kind of are,” Ivy chimes in.
Lucy bounces up onto her knees, grabbing my hand with her little fingers as their spa alarm goes off. “Daddy, pleeease?”
And just like that, my last shred of resolve crumbles.
Before I can even attempt to refuse again, Geoff claps me on the back. “I’m sure Jasper’s got spare swim shorts for us.”
Jasper waves his good hand. “The black ones should fit you.”
“Hold on—” I try, but Christa is already shooing me toward the house.
“Go, go, before we drag you in.”
I sigh heavily, but Lucy’s hopeful little face is beaming up at me, and I know I’ve already lost.
I shake my head, muttering under my breath as I head inside. “Completely outnumbered in my own family.”
As I turn toward the house, my gaze flickers back to Ivy, almost unconsciously. She’s watching me, a pink hue spreading from her neck upwards, disappearing under the thick layer of quark, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her bathrobe.
She blushes.
And for some reason, that tiny reaction hits me more than it should.
My stomach tightens, and my brain—useless, traitorous thing that it is—decides to remind me that beneath that dressing gown is definitely a swimsuit.
And Ivy in a swimsuit?
I swallow hard and force myself to look away before my thoughts go somewhere they really shouldn’t, especially not when I am surrounded by my brothers and my five-year-old daughter.
I am so in trouble.
By the time I’ve changed into Jasper’s black swim shorts and made my way back downstairs, the girls have already washed off the quark and are back in the hot tub.
Christa and Geoff are sitting on one side, chatting easily, while Lucy bobs happily in the centre, her swimming armbands keeping her upright as she sings her favourite nursery rhyme. That leaves the only available spot right next to Ivy.
Of course.
I step into the water, letting the heat wrap around me as I sink down into the seat beside her. The jets hum quietly beneath the surface, sending a gentle current swirling around us, and I can feel the warmth seep into my muscles.
Ivy shifts slightly, and under the bubbling water, our legs brush.
It’s nothing. Just an accident. But the contact is like a tiny shock to my system, and suddenly, my entire focus narrows to the fact that her bare skin is against mine.
Ivy doesn’t move away.
