Farin drifted his gaze over the man. He liked tall men, and this one was at least five-eleven. Thin, but not too thin. When he glanced back at Farin, he offered him a good look at his face. Chocolate-brown eyes and a dimple. Goodness fuck, the man had a dimple.
The tips of Farin’s ears warmed and his neck prickled. Shit. He shouldn’t be ogling the swim instructor. He was a dirty old man who needed a date.
The guy clapped his hands. “Okay, you guys. The others will be here shortly. I want you and Gage to do laps. Show me you’ve been practicing your breathing.” He put his hands together and dived into the water. He barely made a splash and moved through the pool like a fish. When he surfaced, droplets glistened on his body and accentuated his strong form.
Farin’s jaw slackened. The man was so hot and even better wet. He’d read plenty of books describing characters as poetry in motion, but he’d never believed something like that was possible until he saw the swim instructor. Or was he the coach? Farin wasn’t sure.
By the time Gage and the other children climbed out of the pool, an hour had passed. Farin barely noticed. He’d been too engrossed in watching the teacher.
Gage wandered up to Farin, leaving sloshy wet footprints in his wake. “Hey, Uncle Farin. Are you in there?” He waved his hand in front of Farin’s face. “Uncle Farin?”
“Sorry.” He focused his attention on Gage. “I was thinking.”
“About a guy?” Gage’s eyes widened. “Dad always says he’s thinking when he’s really thinking about Jordan—or when I’m in trouble. I’m not in trouble, right?”
“I don’t think you are.” He handed his nephew the towel. “It looked like you were having fun. You’ve got the backstroke down pat.”
“It’s my favorite one.” Gage draped the towel over his head. “I’m going to change. Mr. Moore wanted to talk to you once we’re all done. I don’t know what about. He’s in the changing room, so I can’t get into any trouble.”
“Oh.” Farin tucked his tablet into his bag, then stood and stretched. His ass ached from sitting on the hard bleacher, and his back had stiffened from being hunched over. Part of him wanted to follow his nephew into the changing room to monitor the situation. The rest of him wanted to check out the swim instructor. The wet trunks left little to the imagination, but Farin wanted to unwrap him and check out his package.
Farin blinked. No—no dirty thoughts about the swim teacher. Squelch the dirtiness before it overtakes you. Time to let his head, not his heart and libido, lead the way. If only his libido would agree to the decision. He’d screwed himself over one too many times by thinking with his dick. This guy had to be about nineteen at best and way too young. Farin sighed. He was thirty years old. He needed to start thinking about settling down and planning for retirement, not finding a date.