“You sound like my mother.”
“Water, snacks, SPF, shades, floppy-ass hat. Good.”
She ignored my quip. Bane hadn’t mentioned last night. Either she hadn’t noticed that I was about to lick her as if she were the last scoop of ube ice cream in the world or she didn’t remember. Either way, good. Excellent. We didn’t need a lapse in judgment affecting the rest of our working relationship.
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked if I’m wearing a swimsuit,” she said. “You’d seemed so concerned with me looking nice for your friends.”
“Please don’t wear sweats to the wedding is all I really asked for.”
She shimmied in her short shorts and long…I dunno…was that a silk cardigan? Was she wearing a swimsuit underneath or a tank top, or was this thing a top?
“It’s called a cover-up,” she explained, as if reading my perplexed expression. “I’m wearing a swimsuit beneath this just in case, but there is a less than one percent chance of any of it showing.”
“Are you wearing a bikini?” I mused aloud.
A sly smile curved her lips and I wanted to kiss it off. Damnit. Not even one hour around her and my brain cells were frying themselves. Must’ve been too much sun. “Why are you asking?”
“To be prepared.”
“Nothing will prepare you for seeing me in a swimsuit. In fact, your eyes might melt from the sheer glory.”
“I bet,” I mumbled.
“What? What are you possibly trying to mutter under your breath? Because nothing you say will burst my self-esteem.”
“I’m not arguing. I bet you look fine as hell in a swimsuit.”
She studied me pensively. “What new angle of snark is this?”
“It’s not snark. I believe I’m not ready to witness you in a bikini.”
“You’re not.” She side-eyed me in the shade from underneath the bouncy rim of her giant hat.
“Agreed.”
“All wet and wild.”
“Okay…”
She shoved me with her shoulder, although without any weight to it, I didn’t budge.
“Don’t start with me, Bane.”
“You’re the one wondering what I look like underneath my clothes.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything because I wasn’t just wondering, I was imagining.
“So your friends rented a boat for a few hours?” she asked.
“Yep. At least there will be some shade for you, or we can shove you into the water to cool you off.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Can’t swim?”
“I can swim but there are deadly things in the water. No thanks.”
At least we could agree on that.
When we met the others, they greeted Bane like she was the missing link to our circle while Sejal kept a cordial distance. We drove out to the marina and excitedly stepped onto a good-size boat large enough for all of us with plenty of space to spare.
Aamar and Maya had splurged on the couple by renting a boat to take everyone out into stunning turquoise waters. I wasn’t a water guy, but the intensity of these colors in clear water was tempting.
Even Bane was leaning over the railing, holding her hat on her head as the boat sailed out. Sun glistened on her skin, speckled with ocean mist kicking up from the side of the boat. She beamed at the water, on her tiptoes and so close to teetering off that I almost grabbed her before she could fall overboard. The silky belt of her cover-up flapped in the breeze. What would happen if I caught it? Tugged at it? Would that open her cover-up and reveal her swimsuit?
How the hell was a piece of clothing so interesting? Was she wearing a bikini or a one-piece? Just a top to go with the shorts? What color was it? Red? Black? White? How did white hold up when wet? Shit, now I needed her to get into the water.
“So beautiful,” she was saying.
When I didn’t remark, Bane looked to me and said, “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about work instead of enjoying this.”
“I was actually thinking about how to get you wet.”
Her mouth dropped, cheeks flushed.
“Um…in the water. The ocean, Bane.”
I walked away before I said anything dumber, only to find one chair left, kitty-corner to Sejal and Pradeep. I had every intention of standing when Sam slapped my shoulder, inadvertently sitting me down. At least Sam had placed a cold water in my hand. Others had beers or iced coffee.
