Run To You

sidestroke, freestyle, and breaststroke. Pull. Pull. Twist. Breathe and glide. His body sliced through the water as he worked tension from his muscles. With each pull and twist and kick, he relaxed in the comfortable rhythm.
    The cool water rushed over his face and body, and he thought of his business in New Orleans with retired gunnery sergeant and scout sniper instructor Kasper Pennington. After Kasper had retired from the corps, he’d returned to his home just outside New Orleans. Instead of sitting back and living off his retirement pay, he’d started his own construction company. He bought and flipped homes for profit, but due to Katrina and the poor economy, he’d expanded his business to include remodel and reconstruction. He employed a lot of former military men and women, whether for just a few months while they adjusted to civilian life before they moved on, or if they stuck around longer. Beau wasn’t sure what business discussion Kasper had in mind, but Beau never passed on a good investment opportunity. Could be Kasper wanted some names of guys who needed work. Whether they thought they did or not. His brother came to mind.
    After several laps, his thoughts turned to the drive tomorrow. Originally, he’d planned to drive to New Orleans, meet with Kasper, then leave the rented Escalade at the airport and fly home to Nevada for a while.
    At the deep end, he flip-turned and swam under water across the pool. His business had grown and he didn’t need to travel as much. He’d hired capable people in key positions and his life could settle down now. He could stay at home and start a new phase of his life. One that included a wife and kids. Not because his mother pressured him, but because it’s what he wanted.
    He broke the surface and pulled oxygen deep into his lungs. He had a lot to think about between now and when he dumped a certain black-haired irritant in Texas. One thing he didn’t want to think about was Stella laughing it up with his mother. Pulling her hair over one bare shoulder as she and his mother got inebriated. Tanked while sharing a bottle of pinot. He didn’t want to think about her smile or the shape of her lips or the things the accidental touch of her arm did to his insides. He didn’t want to think of how she looked sitting across the table, the late sunlight tangled in her hair and bathing her smooth skin. He didn’t want to think about the curve of her neck or the shadow her chin made on her throat. He didn’t want to think of her breathy little moan or her blue eyes looking back at him as she rambled about unicorns and padded bras.
    At the wall in the shallow end, he turned and headed back across. No, he didn’t want to think of blue eyes and breathy moans and padded bras, but he seemed to be having a harder time controlling his thoughts than usual. No matter the mind tricks he’d used in the past. Earlier, he’d sat at his mother’s table, converting wind velocity to minutes of angle in his brain while his body drowned in deep, dark lust. Lust that had finally cooled, not because of his mind-over-body tricks, but because of his mother’s talk of Facebook friends . He wondered how many of his other old girlfriends his mother had stalked.
    He didn’t know how long he swam, lost in his thought and paying attention to his muscles rather than counting laps, when he noticed a white blur at the edge of the pool. He stopped in the middle of the deep end where the water reached the top of his shoulders and brushed his hands over his face. Light from within the pool shone up on Stella’s bare feet and legs. She wore white. A long shirt maybe. The full-value wind picked up the bottom and it fluttered against her thighs. Beau stared through the outlying shadows and into the umbra shades covering her face.
    There were a lot of things he could have said. Could have asked. But the most important seemed to be “What are you wearing?”
    She bent forward, and the white shirt slid down her thighs to her knees. “A nightshirt?” she said, her voice was disjointed and soft, like a caress clothed in black velvet. “Your mother lent it to me. She gave me the pants, too, but they’re way too long, and I don’t like to wear pajama pants to bed anyway.” She straightened. “I forgot to pack pajamas this morning.”
    She hadn’t packed anything to sleep in. What would she wear tomorrow night? “Why aren’t you asleep?”
    “Your splashing woke me up.”
    “Sorry.” He ran his