Nova
“Of course,” I said as Colby led me through a door into an indoor, heated, Olympic size swimming pool. “I should have known you’d have your own pool.”
He shrugged, whipping off his blue sweater and throwing it on a bench by the wall. “My last name is Docks. My love for swimming was basically inescapable.”
“Not necessarily,” I argued. “You could have loved boats.”
He had already been in his swim trunks when I got to his house, and he made us both remove our shoes in the little mud room outside the pool. With nothing else to remove, the blond-haired charmer laughed and dove in a perfect arc into the deep end.
When he breached the surface, I held up eight fingers as my score for his dive.
“What?” he exclaimed in mock-offense. “Unfair scoring from the red-haired judge!”
I laughed.
