“Just getting some water,” I answer with false sweetness. “You’re right, it is a little hot in here.”
“That sounds good,” he calls over his shoulder. “Would you mind bringing me a glass too?”
“I was planning on it,” I quip.
I don’t have to let the water run very long at all before it’s ice cold. I find the largest cup I can in the cupboard and fill it up, not bothering with one for me. This water is all for him.
He’s staring down at his tiles again when I return.
“I’m sure this will help you cool down,” I say, and then pour the entire glass over his head.
He jumps out of his seat, sputtering, his hair plastered to his skull and rivulets of water trailing down his face. He looks over at me in shock, goose bumps littering his chest and arms.
“Better now?” I ask, fighting against another smile as I set the empty glass down.
He gapes at me. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“I can’t believe you tried to distract me from the game with all that,” I say, gesturing up and down his shirtless chest. “You’re just a dirty little cheat.”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I cross my arms over my chest and give his ridiculous abs a pointed look. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I say, tearing my gaze from his twenty-six pack to pin him with a glare.
He loses the battle and his lips twist into a smile. “Are you trying to say that my chest and abs are distracting? You should have said something sooner. I had no idea.”
“Mmm hmm.”
I turn my head as he shakes his head with a laugh, sending droplets flying. When I turn back to him, there’s a calculated gleam in his eyes.
“You know, that was really refreshing.” He takes a step forward.
I retreat a step.
“You look a little overheated too. A little flushed.” The grin that spreads across his face is nothing short of wicked. “I’m guessing the snow is mighty refreshing.”
“Becks,” I warn, taking another step back. “Don’t even think it.”
“Oh, I’m doing more than thinking it,” he says, and then lunges for me, but I’m ready and dart out of the way.
I squeal as he gives chase, running to put the dining table between us. For a minute we run comically around it, first one way, and then the other. I get a stitch in my side from laughing as we dart back and forth. When it’s clear he’s not going to catch me this way, Becks gets fed up and jumps right over it, landing in front of me in one bound.
Giving a shout of surprise, I turn to flee, but he scoops me up, effortlessly throwing me over his shoulder.
“Gah, you’re getting me all wet,” I laugh-yell at him, wheezing because his shoulder’s digging into my stomach.
“And whose fault is that?”
I can’t see his face, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“One hundred percent yours! You were using your hotness to distract?—”
“You think I’m hot?” he asks, sounding interested.
Butterflies start battling in my compressed stomach, but I play it off.
“Becks, there is no one in this world or the other who doesn’t think you’re hot. The sun is bright. The night is dark. And Becks is hot. Get over yourself already.”
“Hmm,” is all he says as he eats up the space to the back door.
