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And what a man.
I came in at just five feet two, and most people towered over me, but this man must have been over six feet. I barely came up to his chest. A ripped chest that his white T-shirt couldn’t hide. The sweat spots on the front and under the armpits caused the material to stick to delicious-looking abs I wanted to poke.
Dang, but who was he? A delivery man? Because I would have to ensure I get a delivery every day of the week if they were sending guys like these out now. All I usually got were ashy knees and skinny legs. This man’s thighs covered in tight denim could squeeze the life out of me.
Why did that sound so hot?
“What’s that?” he growled, his voice gravelly and hard.
Since when did my fairy godmother give a crap about my dream man?
“Umm, what’s what?”
“You were saying something about impolite.”
Intense blue eyes that looked familiar, even though I’d never met him before, stared into mine. I couldn’t look away. His hair seemed freshly cut, and he had a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. The sliver of silver that threaded through the dark hair made me hold on to the door tightly.
Oh crap, if gray hair could turn me on like this, I needed a Tinder hookup ASAP. This was embarrassing.
“Umm, just that it’s impolite to beat on someone’s door and ring their doorbell like that.”
“Sorry. Just checking someone was actually home. I should have called first, but…”
“Scottie, who is it?” Jay yelled down the stairs.
“I’m still checking!”
“Scottie?” The man widened his eyes and swept his gaze slowly up and down my frame and back up again. “Scottie McHottie?”
Scottie McHottie.
Scottie McHottie.
Scottie McHottie.
Heat seared my face. Nearly flayed me right down to the bone.
Oh.
My.
God.
Only one person knew me by that stupid name. The one person I was certain I would never meet face-to-face so he wouldn’t see I was more of a Scottie McNottie. As in the guy no one would ever want to date because he wasn’t real. The fun, sexy, worldly cool guy I’d pretended to be all these years in my letters to him didn’t exist.
“Gr-Griff?” I mumbled his name with stiff lips. He couldn’t be Griffin Burke. That Griff was behind bars, serving life in prison.
“Fuck me sideways. It is you.” He stared at me, looking as shocked as I felt. “You’re my Scottie?”
My Scottie.
My jaw went slack, and I might have ejaculated a little in my briefs. No one had ever called me their anything before, and when this sexy man uttered it so casually, I was prime and loaded to go off at any time.
“I-I-I don’t understand.” My tongue kept sticking to the roof of my mouth, making it difficult to get the words out. “You’re in prison. You can’t be here on my doorstep.”
If I’d known he would one day show up, I would never have replied to his letter to Jay. I would never have kept in touch with him all these years, and I certainly would never have fed him those lies, which had somehow filtered into my letters. They’d started as me keeping him up to date about Jay and had gradually evolved to me talking about myself.
“I won my appeal,” he replied. “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure if my sentence would stick and then I wanted it to be a…surprise.”
