“Yeah, I want to help her learn.”

“Is that all you want to help her with?” She batted her eyelashes over her large brown eyes.

“We’re just friends, Morgan. I know all about Will.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m not sure why I’m surprised, really. Paisley wouldn’t carry on behind his back.” Her southern accent drew out the words like dripping molasses.

“We’re not carrying on. I only want to make sure she doesn’t drown again.”

She cleared her throat as Paisley descended the stairs. “Ready?” The neck strap of her swimsuit peeked out over her tank top, and I had the momentary fantasy of untying it. Right, because I’d gone straight back to ninth grade, hormones and all.

Morgan slid down from the counter, snatching the coffee cup out of my hand and taking a long pull. “Yum. Caramel macchiato is my fave. Thanks!” She smacked a loud kiss on Paisley’s cheek and headed up the stairs, pausing to blow me a kiss.

“Hey, that’s—” I started, pretty pissed that she was stealing the only nice thing I’d done for someone in…a while.

“I don’t drink coffee anyway. Don’t worry about it, and I really appreciate the gesture.” Paisley half smiled. “I guess I’m ready. And I’m trusting you not to poke fun at me.”

“I would never.” How easily she said that word. Trust wasn’t something I was going to discuss, even in passing. That was something earned.

She pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Just don’t take me anywhere I can embarrass myself.” She bent over to grab a purple backpack, and I clenched my hands to keep from touching the blond strands that dangled near my fingers.

No distractions. No women. Only friends.

“I have just the place.”

“You’re certain about this?” Paisley asked from the passenger seat. We hit another bump on the dirt road, and her grip on the oh-shit handle tightened.

“Certain. You want to go somewhere you won’t be seen, right?” Ridiculous, but if that’s what it took, then…fine.

“Right, but I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

I snuck a look at her. Her lips were pursed, and her eyebrows puckered, worry lurking in her eyes. Our bodies jarred as we hit another mud-soaked rut, and I forced my attention to the road. “Don’t worry so much.”

She laughed, but it was forced. “That’s kind of all I do.”

My mouth opened, but her phone rang before I could get a word out. She dug through her purse and caught it before “Shipping Up to Boston” hit the chorus. The girl actually was a Dropkick Murphys fan. Well, shit, if that didn’t attract me more.

“Hey, sugar,” she answered, sticking my dick in cold water with the reminder that she had a boyfriend. “Yeah, I know.”

What kind of guy held Paisley’s attention?

The pissed-off tone of his voice came through the phone, but I couldn’t make out the words. “I didn’t know you were coming over this morning. No, of course you don’t need an invite, I just wish I’d…seen you before I left.” She giggled, and it damn near killed me. “No, of course not. I know you’re upset.” There were more words cutting off any attempt she made to get a word in edgewise. “Yes, I know it’s on the counter. Will, seriously, don’t you think I can keep track of that myself? I don’t always need it on. I’ll be fine, it’s only a swimming lesson.”

She told him. Score one point for honesty.

“I understand you’re upset, but you need to give me a little wiggle room here.” Two more of her deep breaths and we rounded the corner to our destination. “Will. Will! Please trust me enough to know what I’m capable of.”

Two breaths and the small lake came into view. “I know. I love you, too. I’ll call you once I get home.” I threw Lucy into park and reached for the door handle as she hung up. “I’m so sorry about that.”

I shut my door and made my way around to hers. “You don’t need to apologize to me.” I helped her down.

“He worries.”

“You guys sound like you have great communication.” Okay, that was officially the lamest shit I’d ever said, but I envied it.

She propped her sunglasses on top of her head and squinted at me. “We do. We’ve been friends nearly our whole lives. There’s a lot of history there.”

Before it could get any heavier or more awkward, I kicked off my flip-flops into the heavy grass. “Are you ready?”

She peeked behind me at the lake. “Wait, you want to swim here?”

I shrugged. “One of the guys told me about it. It’s secluded, clean, and we have it to ourselves.”

She shook her head and waggled her finger at me. “Oh, no, not here. This is not a good idea.”

I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on the hood of my truck. “This is the idea, Paisley. Get your clothes off and get in the water.” Her eyes widened, and I didn’t miss the way she raked her eyes down my chest. Was she a tattoo kind of girl? Or was her boyfriend the clean-cut guy she could take home to her mom? “Does the ink bother you?”

She blinked a few times, then jerked her eyes to my face as her cheeks flushed. “No, not at all.”

I knew what would come next, the inevitable what does it all mean every girl asked. I hadn’t told anyone the real translation of the words that stretched across my chest, arm, back, and abs. Those truths were mine and mine alone. “Let’s swim.”