This is the third part of a pool boy romance novel series entitled “Yes, I am the Pool Boy,’ written by the pros at Great Falls Pools. For part one, click here, and for part two, click here. For t-shirts, beach towels, and beach bags inspired by this story, check out our swag store.

The Barn Encounter

Cecelia reached out, her fingers just shy of brushing his sun-warmed skin when a sharp, sudden neigh split the humid air. She jerked back, pulse stuttering. The horses.

She turned her head toward the pasture beyond the pool, shielding her eyes against the glare. One of them—her stallion, Orion—stood near the fence, ears flicking, tail lashing in irritation. He let out another impatient call, stamping the ground.

“Something’s wrong,” she murmured, already pushing herself up from the tanning ledge.

The pool boy took a step back, watching her with curiosity as she grabbed a towel and draped it over her shoulders. “You have horses?”

She barely heard him. Years of instinct kicked in as she strode across the manicured lawn toward the paddock, her sandaled feet feeling the tickle of the soft grass.. The Virginia heat pressed down, thick and unmoving, but she ignored it. Orion’s ears swiveled toward her as she approached, his dark eyes wide and alert.

“Easy, boy,” she soothed, reaching up to stroke his velvety muzzle. His breath puffed against her palm, warm and familiar. She could feel the tension in him, the nervous energy running beneath his sleek coat.

Something must have startled him—a deer in the woods, a shadow moving across the pasture. Whatever it was, he was spooked, and she knew he wouldn’t settle until she led him in.

She unclipped the lead rope from the fence and fastened it to his halter, murmuring soft reassurances as she guided him toward the barn. His hooves crunched against the gravel path, a rhythmic counterpoint to the hum of cicadas in the trees. She felt the sun beating down on her as she walked down the path to the barn. 

The air shifted as they stepped inside the stables, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark. It was thick with the scent of hay, leather, and the earthy musk of horses. The temperature barely dipped despite the industrial fan humming overhead, pushing the stale air in lazy circles. Dust motes danced in the golden light streaming through the slats in the wooden walls.

Cecelia walked Orion into his stall, giving him one last stroke along his powerful neck before unfastening the lead. “There you go,” she murmured, watching as he sniffed at his hay, still restless but calming.

She was hot. Hotter than she’d been by the pool, the weight of the afternoon clinging to her skin. Dust clung to her legs, streaked in fine lines where sweat had dampened her calves. With a sigh, she padded to the wash area near the barn’s side door, where an old hose hung coiled on a hook. She turned the spigot, letting the water run cool before pulling the end of the hose free.

Her swimsuit was already damp from the pool, clinging in places she suddenly wanted freed. The barn was private. Isolated. She stepped out of her sandals. 

Without thinking too hard about it, she reached to her tanned shoulders to pull the straps of her bathing suit off. The straps slid down her arms, and she let the fabric fall, then tugged the hot wet fabric down over her hips, stepping out of it with bare toes against the dusty concrete floor. She dropped the swimsuit on the dusty floor, feeling the breeze of the barn fan on her naked body.

The first spray of water made her gasp. Cold, shocking against her overheated skin. She angled the hose up, letting the water run over her collarbone, down her stomach, tracing the dip of her waist. The relief was instant, washing away the dust, the sweat, the thick weight of the summer air.

She barely heard the soft creak of the barn door over the hum of the fan. But she felt the presence behind her. Slowly, she turned, water still dripping from her skin.

The pool boy stood in the doorway, backlit by the afternoon sun, his gaze dark and unreadable.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then he took a step inside.

He moved toward her slowly, each step deliberate, his gaze locked onto hers. Cecelia’s breath hitched, her heart pounding against her ribs. The hose slipped from her fingers, forgotten, landing with a soft splatter against the barn floor. Water pooled around her bare feet, cool against the heat that had nothing to do with the summer air.

She couldn’t move. She didn’t want to.

The way he looked at her—steady, intent—sent a slow, shivering thrill down her spine. He was close now, so close she could feel the warmth of his body even with the cool mist from the hose clinging to her skin. Every muscle in her body tightened, anticipation curling deep inside her.

He was going to touch her. She wanted him to.

But then— The sharp, jarring ring of a phone split through the thick, hazy air.

Cecelia sucked in a breath, the sound shocking her back to reality like a slap of ice water. The moment shattered. The spell broke. Panic flared. Who would be calling there? The barn phone only rang from the intercom system on the property. Someone was here. Someone was looking for her.

She gasped, arms wrapping around herself, suddenly hyper-aware of her nakedness. Shame burned through her, embarrassment knotting in her throat. What had she been thinking?

The pool boy didn’t startle at the interruption. He didn’t step back, didn’t stammer or avert his gaze. Instead, he crouched down slowly, his bare shoulder nearly brushing her thigh as he reached for the swimsuit crumpled at her feet.

Cecelia stood frozen, heart still racing wildly, pulse thrumming in her ears.

He picked up the hose, still gushing water, and ran the suit under the stream, rinsing the dust and hay from the fabric. Then, with quiet composure, he turned off the spigot and held the damp swimsuit out to her.

She swallowed hard, taking it from him with unsteady fingers.

The phone kept ringing.

Without a word, she turned on her heel, stepping into the tack room, clutching the wet bathing suit against her chest.

She snatched the phone off the hook. “Hello?”

“Cecelia? It’s Marguerite.”

Her stomach twisted. “Marguerite?”

“I just got here,” her cousin said breezily. “I wasn’t supposed to come until tonight, I know, but I wrapped things up early. No one answered when I buzzed the main house, so I figured I’d try the barn. Are you down here?”

Cecelia forced a laugh, wincing at how tight it sounded. “Yeah, I—I was just by the pool, but one of the horses was acting up, so I came to check on him. You’re at the gate?”

“Oh, no worries. I’ll just wait for you. Take your time.”

“No, no, hold on. I’ll walk up in a few minutes.” She hung up, pressing the receiver to her forehead for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. What had she almost done?

With shaky fingers, she stepped into the wet swimsuit, pulling it up over her hips, the cold fabric shocking against her overheated skin. When she finally emerged from the tack room, the barn was silent except for the rhythmic hum of the fan and the sounds of Orion in his stall. 

The pool boy was gone.

Cecelia exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her chest. Her pulse still hadn’t settled. She looked down at the damp spot on the floor where she had stood. The air still smelled like summer rain and hay and something else—something electric.

With one last glance at the stable doors, she turned and walked toward the house.

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