Page 59 of My Best French Wedding

“Hmm?”

“You’re going to have to hold on a lot harder than that.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Too late. The words floated into Hildy’s head, sharpening her resolve. “I can take it.”

He slid his hands a little higher, abandoning the knees after a brief clench. When his palms finally settled on her upper thighs, he huffed as if she’d just kicked over his sandcastle.

“Are you wearing sunscreen?” He sounded judgy, as if he couldn’t believe she’d made such a rookie mistake. Poor Walter, tortured by her naked quads.

“I’m sorry for caring about skin cancer.”

“It’s slippery.”

“Squeeze harder.” Hildy ignored the corresponding clench in her stomach muscles when his fingers flexed.

When Fiona and Robbie lined up on the opposite end of the pool, Hildy sent Walter a silent cue that it was time to move.

“Did you just steer me with your thighs or are you trying to strangle me?”

“Be glad I don’t have a whip. Assume the position, Seabiscuit.” She made clip-clop sounds with her tongue.

While the referee reminded them of the rules, Hildy took practice swings with her pink pool noodle. The poke, the slash, sideways sweep, the thumper—

“It’s much more intimidating when you give them a name,” Walter said, cluing Hildy in that her monologue had gone audible. He let go of her right thigh long enough to give her an encouraging pat.

The crowd gasped as Hildy wobbled, weight shifting to one side. She slid halfway down Walter’s arm before he managed to arrest her momentum with a firm shove in the other direction. The only problem was that she was now draped horizontally across his face and neck, clinging to his opposite shoulder while he anchored her ass with the crook of his elbow. It probably looked like a figure skating lift gone horribly wrong.

He laughed, and Hildy felt the heat of it from her stomach down. She couldn’t even writhe away for fear of dunking herself before the match even started.

“You guys okay over there?” Robbie yelled.

Hildy raised her thumb.

“The joust starts on my whistle,” the ref announced.

“Let’s do this.” Hildy reached down to pat Walter’s stomach.Under other circumstances, she would have asked about his core workout. “As soon as you turn me around.”

By some miracle, they managed to slip and scramble her body back into position by the time the whistle blew, though they’d probably both need physical therapy later. And maybe the other kind of therapy. Shaking off those memories, Hildy gripped the pool noodle with both hands, ready to enter the fray.

“Can you go any faster?” she asked, several shuffling paces later. “More gallop, less stagger?”

“I’m trying not to drop you.”

Hildy bucked her hips, urging him forward.

“Not helping,” Walter grunted.

When they finally reached the midpoint, Fiona surprised her with a swipe to the ribs.

“Hiyah!” she bride cried out.

“Nice one, babe!” Robbie held up a hand for a high five.

“I thought she might be ticklish,” Fiona confessed.

“Not there,” Walter said under his breath.