ANNIE

“It’s time to practice the big twirl. The ultimate twirl. The only reason we have this stud here is for this stinkin’ twirl.” Gran gestures toward the group of old women—and me. And to everyone’s amazement, Cohen is in the water, too. “Did you watch the video I mailed you, Mr. James?”

“How’d you get my email?” Cohen looks at Gran. “No, sorry. I didn’t see it come through.”

“Not email, you goon,” Gran says. “Through the mailboxes. I sent you a VHS.”

“A VHS? Why would you send me a VHS?”

“Because I recorded the Olympics twenty years ago, and we only had VCRs at that time. You were supposed to watch it and learn the moves.”

“We’re not going to be able to do that, Gran,” I say. “First, because neither of us have a VCR. Secondly, because this isn’t the Olympics.”

“Fine.” Gran expels a long, loud breath. “I suppose that’s fine. I came up with an alternate plan just in case.”

“Let’s stick with the original plan,” Lottie says. “Charlie Hubert will be there, and I want to look good for him. He’s been asking if I’ll help with his laundry for weeks, and I think this might be my big chance to move our relationship to the next level.”

“Once he sees you in that swimsuit,” Gran says. “He’ll be drooling all over you. Original plan it is. Pay attention, Annie and Cohen. I’m only demonstrating once.”

Cohen and I watch as Gran spirals through the water, splashing more than she’s twirling.

“Got it?” When she finishes, she extends one hand and puts it firmly on my butt. “Cohen, you’ll have to support her like this while you twirl.”

“I can do that,” he says. “I like this class.”

“Of course you do,” Gran says. “You get to touch—”

“Gran!” I say. “We get it! Let’s practice.”

“Like this?” he asks cheerily, looking at Gran as he takes a healthy squeeze of my rear end. “Am I doing it right?”

“A little too right,” Gran says. “Looks like you’ve had some practice.”

I close my eyes, wishing suddenly for the water to swallow me whole. I thought I’d been doing Gran a favor today by staying late after swimming lessons to practice. The synchronized swim team had rented the pool for an hour extra, and it was the first and last time we’d get a full rehearsal before the event.

“Move it along, folks. Let’s see the twirl.” Gran gestures for Cohen to lift me up, spin me in a circle, and then throw me back into the water. “It’ll be beautiful. So beautiful.”

“He’s throwing me across the pool,” I argue. “It’s hardly beautiful.”

“But there’s a twirl,” Gran says. “Like a flower.”

I’m rolling my eyes when Cohen latches on firmly. As instructed, he lifts me near his shoulder, turns in a circle, and then drops me into the water. It’s a good thing I’m wearing floaties and have a smoking hot swimming instructor next to me, or I’d be panicking.

Also, the water is only four feet deep, so that helps to keep the panic at bay. In fact, it’s almost exciting. I’m barely terrified of drowning. Proudly, I plant my feet on the floor and propel myself up through the surface of the water with a broad grin on my face.

We’ve done it. We’ve completed the twirl.

My smile turns slightly dimmer when I realize the room is silent. Shouldn’t people be clapping? I mean, the twirl wasn’t horrible. Maybe it wasn’t as beautiful as a flower, but still. It’s an accomplishment.

Suddenly, it hits me that not one person is staring at my face. Not a single person.

I take one look down—at my very bare chest—and shriek.

I don’t even feel embarrassed. There’s no time for embarrassed. Somehow, when Cohen tossed me from his shoulder, he snapped the string of my suit, and the whole top vanished. It must have landed three feet away because it’s bobbing like a sad little fish in the distance.

I lunge toward it like a crazed woman while Gran grins at her friends.

“She got those from me,” Gran says proudly, nodding in my direction. “Nice, huh?”

Cohen clears his throat and leaps to attention, fishing the top of my suit from the water before I can get to it. My arms are too busy trying to control the whole nude-in-public situation.

“Here, so sorry,” Cohen says, stepping close, shielding me as much as possible from the audience of curious women behind him. “Let me help.”

“You can’t help,” I hiss. “It’s broken!”

He glances down, the realization dawning on his face as he sees one triangle in one hand, and the other drifting away in the pool. “Oh, no. I owe you a new suit.”

“Ya think?”

“Good thing I brought you a backup,” Gran says. “That bright green beauty from the first day of class is in the locker—go get it. We’ll practice once more before Cohen has to leave.”

I swipe the single triangle from Cohen’s hand with one last glare around the room, then pull myself out and stomp carefully toward the exit.

“I’ll help her.” Cohen jumps out after me, grabbing a towel on his way, and follows without a word. “Here, let me cover you up.”

“You couldn’t have waited a few hours to get home?” I say under my breath, once we’re out of the pool area. “You had to undress me in front of my elders?”

“It was an accident. I owe you big time.”

“Yes, you do.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

“Come to my mom’s wedding with me.”

“What?” Now Cohen’s mouth is hanging open, and I’m pretty sure mine is too.

“Nothing. Sorry, I’m going to go change.” I try to move past him and forget my invitation, but he blocks my progress. I try again. “Excuse me.”

“Do you want me to be your date to the wedding?”

I inhale a shaky breath. “I hadn’t meant to ask you standing here, like this, but... I’ve been thinking about it. Unless—”

“I would love to come.”

“It’s not too soon?”

“Are you kidding?” He looks pointedly at my chest, now covered by the towel. “I’ve been dreaming of getting you on a cruise ship since you mentioned it.”

“Really?”

Cohen reaches forward and drapes an arm across my shoulders. He curls me into his body, giving me a kiss that melts my bikini bottoms right off. Nearly.

Until Gran whistles, and Cohen steps backward as if he’s been burned.

“I’ll go change,” I say, slipping away from him and into the locker room. “But I didn’t forget about your offer of a new bathing suit. You’re taking me shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“Shopping.”