the city," Addison said. "Being rich in a small town doesn't protect you from everything uncouth and provincial."
He reached over and rubbed the back of her neck. "Did you like the wine?"
"Yes. I'm not overly choosy, though."
"No?"
She shook her head. "We went to wine tastings all the time. I get it, the nuances in flavor and all that. But honestly, my favorite wine ever is this seven dollar bottle of sweet red at our local grocery store."
He laughed.
She blushed, thinking she'd said something dim or childish. But then she heard a hint of bitterness in his laugh. The light that they were at turned green, and he stepped on the gas. "I don't even like wine," he said. "I keep tasting it, trying to figure out why people like the shit."
She laughed, then. "What do you like?"
"I got into Scotch just to have something to drink at social gatherings. It's good…some are better than others. But I think I'm just not much of a drinker."
"My friend Jayce is a bartender. He makes some good mixed drinks. Maybe you'll like a mudslide or something?"
"I can see that at one of my parent's dinner parties. 'Sauvingnon or Chardonnay, Greyson?' 'Can you make me a mudslide?'"
He did an impression of his mother's voice that was hilarious. Then he said, "We should go to the water park."
They were passing the road that led to its entrance, now. She watched it go by. "Isn't it just for kids?"
"I don't know. I guess the parents have to go, too. So no one would know we weren't there with kids. We're wanting fun, right? Was that wine tasting fun for you?"
"I enjoyed being with you."
"Yes, but was it fun?"
She laughed and sighed. "No."
"So let's try something different. We'll be like explorers in a strange, new land."
She chewed her lip while she thought about it. "I didn't bring a bathing suit."
"Neither did I. But we could go buy some."
He was waiting for her answer. She turned to him, and he glanced at her, his eyebrows raised. "Okay," she said. "Let's do it."
He grinned and turned down a side street, making his way back through town. They stopped at a clothing store and found the bathing suits. She found some tasteful one-pieces and tankinis. She could get a wrap to cover her legs.
Grey whistled at her. She turned to see him holding up a hanger with a string bikini, black and pink, hardly anything to it. "I'm not wearing that," she said.
"Why not?" he asked, as though he was truly baffled by the question.
"Insecurity," she answered. "Massive insecurity."
"Trust me," he said. "I've seen the body. You have nothing to be insecure about."
"You're blinded to my flaws by lust."
He made his way through the racks of bathing suits, handed her the bikini, stuck out his bottom lip and said, "Please?"
She shoved it back at him. "There will be children there. Moms don't wear bikinis."
"Really? None of them?"
She shook her head. "I've never seen a mom in a bikini."
He looked around. "Let's survey the demographic, shall we?"
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the children's section where a mom was picking out bathing suits for her two kids. "Pardon me, ma'am," Greyson said, in his most scholarly voice. "My friend and I are at odds on something and were hoping maybe you could help?"
She smiled warily. "Sure."
"We want to know if this is an appropriate bathing suit for a mom to wear." He held up the bikini.
The woman laughed. "Would you seriously want to see this body in that bathing suit?" She gestured to herself.
"Yes," Greyson said, looking her up and down. "I would absolutely love to see you in this bathing suit."
The woman laughed, blushed, and said, "I think you'd regret it. But yes, I have several mom friends who wear bikinis to the pool."
Greyson gave Addy a smug, arch of his brow, and led her back to the bathing suits. "There you have it," he said.
"I'm not sure that was an adequate sample of the population, Dr. McDaniel. Plus, I'm fairly certain you stacked the question."
"But you'll wear it? This one?