"he's so good with kids," your friend says knowingly, an obvious smile on his face, as your eyes flit over his shoulder to see the man chucking the older kids around in the pool while they scream-laugh and swim back to him.
"mm," you murmur noncommittally to the friend. "I don't even think I want kids."
your sunglasses hide your heavy gaze, always finding him: in the pool, climbing out with shorts plastered to pillar-like thighs, the gold necklace nestling into his chest hair that the kids tease him about.
across the pool party, laughing with a friend, but eyes fixed on him grabbing a plate of barbecue food, piling it up high and clapping a big hand on the host's shoulder in thanks.
it's not a surprise when he eventually makes his way to your table, tucked in the shade, your legs sprawled out on a chair in front of you under a spare slash of hot sun.
"here with your husband?"
you laugh softly, shaking your head. "one of the few singles here."
the only reaction you get is creasing of his eyes. it's hotter than it has any right being. "that right. aren't we a pair then." voice grittier and softer than it should be. gets you between the legs like a finger.
"like these big family dos," he says lightly then, stretching back in his chair, his legs knocked obnoxiously wide (gets you like a second finger added to the first). the water drips off his curled chest hair onto his potato salad and chips. "seein all the mums and dads with the lit'l ones. sweet."
"any of 'em yours?" gesturing to the pool with the splashing kids.
"nah," said lightly. "not yet for me. when I meet her, i'll know. then it'll be a family decision, y'know?" a sun-hot hand landing on your thigh, shocking. could be he's squinting from the sun moving. could be he's winking.
"mm," you murmur again, noncommittally.
