Work Text:
“I had no idea you even had this,” she said, stepping onto the back porch of John’s house, clad in the singular bikini she kept in her Montana apartment since moving to D.C.
“I probably use it once a year, but it’s good for the joints after a few decades of riding,” he explained.
“A few?” She asked, eyebrows raised, laughing.
“Whatever,” he brushes her off. “Anyway, I thought it would be good for this.”
Lynelle turned to stare over the spa at the valley and surrounding mountains, covered in six inches of snow and counting. Large flakes were drifting towards the uneven ground, settling on the barely green spring grass in the valley and on the still barren mountaintops above the tree line. It was beautiful, but not what she’d hoped for in June.
She slung two southwestern print towels over a nearby rocking chair that was tucked away from the snow, then deposited their beers on a shelf next to the hot tub.
John stepped in, smirking, then asked: “Hey, what happened to that suit you had up at Flathead that weekend last July?”
“Fourth of July special. I leave the fun ones in Washington so I can drive to the beach,” Lynelle laughed.
“I thought you could only get that kinda view in the mountains,” he chuckled.
Lynelle just rolled her eyes. She climbed into the warm water facing the mountains, sighing as it tempered the freezing air. John reached for their beers and handed one over to her. She grabbed the chilled bottle and maneuvered herself closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her, and she leaned into the contact, brushing his side with her shoulder.
He raised his beer bottle, inviting her to join him in a toast. She followed and raised hers in turn.
“To neither of us being able to get to the office,” he laughed before clinking their bottles together.
“I’ll drink to that,” she said, smiling up to her eyes.