My mouth clamps shut as anger and embarrassment swirl inside of me. Why am I acting like a fucking lunatic? I have no right to. I shouldn’t feel this jealousy. But, God, I am jealous. I despise Misty and hate the fact she’s ever touched him. As the realization dawns on me—that I do, in fact, want George McDermott—like want, want him—my knees go weak. Placing a hand on the desk behind me, I attempt to hold myself up without looking that way. I can’t tell George I have feelings for him. How could I? How could I admit that to him, or anyone, when I have the same feelings for Ike? I’m a fucking mess right now. I need to change the subject. “No. You asked me to stay, and you made a promise to stay clean. She’s your dealer. I’m concerned, not jealous.”
George steps toward me, closing the distance between us. My heart beats wildly as my stare remains trained on him as I refuse to look away. “Listen, Charlotte,” he whispers. “I realize you’re concerned, but you can’t make outbursts like that. All of my employees will think it’s okay to behave the same way.” My lips fall into a hard line and I stare at my feet. Damn it, he’s right. “Charlotte, please look at me,” he says, softly. When I continue to stare down, he brings his hand under my chin and cups it, tilting my head up. “With that said, I know I’m a hypocrite because I want to kiss you so bad right now. More than I’ve probably ever wanted to kiss a woman before. But I want to be clean, and I don’t want my face to look pulverized when I do it.” His confession weakens my defenses. My shoulders slouch as I succumb. I have no idea what to say so I nod once in understanding.
He removes his hand from my face and asks, “Would you let me take you somewhere?”
“What? Now?” I ask; my brows furrowed.
“Yeah. It’s a really cool place.”
“Okay.” I shrug.
George lets Sniper know we’re leaving and pulls me out the back door. Once again, he helps me into his jacked up truck and we drive. During the day Warm Springs is a bountiful abyss of color with sloping fields and round hay bales everywhere, but at night it’s the darkest place I’ve ever seen. You can’t see any of the day’s beauty here at night.
We drive just past the gazebo with the Welcome to Warm Springs sign on it, and turn down a gravel road. “Where are we?” I ask as I squint my eyes, trying to make out the building in front of us with the limited light from the truck’s headlights.
“The Jefferson Pools,” George answers as he parks in front of a round, rundown-looking building.
“There’s a pool in there?” I ask.
“Well, it’s a warm spring, hence the town name. It stays ninety-eight degrees all year round. It’s kind of what put our town on the map.” He grabs a flashlight from the glovebox then climbs out of the truck and rounds it, opening my door and helping me out. As my body slides down his, it seems as if it happens in slow motion, but every single nerve inside me is aware of it, and I love every second of it.
“So this is where Thomas Jefferson used to come to soak and rejuvenate?” I ask, remembering Ike telling me something to that effect.
“It is. You’re going to swim in water our third president swam in.”
I stop in my tracks. “We’re swimming? I didn’t bring anything to swim in, George.”
I can’t see his face, but I can hear the smile in his voice. “Looks like we’ll have to skinny-dip.”
Shaking my head, I follow him and say, “So it’s too soon to kiss me, but not too soon to see me naked?”
“I’ve already seen your ass,” he points out.
“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” I grumble.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” he says, as if the thought gives him great satisfaction. I’m thankful it’s dark out so he can’t see my cheeks blush.
“You really expect me to skinny-dip?”
He laughs. “I won’t look, Charlotte.” He pauses. “Much,” he corrects himself. “I won’t look much.” I want to protest, but I can’t. I love this side of him; the carefree and fun George. His laugh is my drug; I need more, and I’d do almost anything to have it.
When we get to the door George pulls out his wallet, removing a credit card. “What is that for?”
“To pick the lock,” he says, casually, as he inserts the card between the door and doorjamb.
“We’re breaking in?” I hiss as my eyes dart around frantically.
“No. My debit card is the key to this place,” he jests, earning an eye roll from me he doesn’t see. “Relax,” he urges me. “I know the guy that manages this place. If we get busted, we won’t get in trouble. I promise,” he assures me. “There it is,” he cheers quietly as he pops the lock and opens the door. “Give me your hand.” In the darkness, I find his hand and he leads me inside. The smell of sulfur assaults my nostrils and I cringe, but it soon fades as I quickly become accustomed to the odor. “Stay close to the wall or you’ll fall in.”
“It’s so dark, I can’t see a damn thing,” I complain as I plaster myself to the wall.
“Well get undressed and hop in. I can’t see a thing anyway. That’s what I’m doing.”
“You’re undressing?” In the darkness, I sense him bend and hear the ruffling of clothing. He must’ve taken his shirt, underwear, and pants off.
“Done,” he answers. Then there’s the sound of a splash. “Come on, Charlotte. It feels awesome. Don’t dive in though. It’s only about four feet deep.”
Good thing he can’t see me roll my eyes. Removing all of my clothing, even my bra and panties, I prepare to hop in. “What about my cut?”