My heart swells with love and heartache for moments that only live in my head now. Grandpa asking me the same thing when I’d come into the backyard to see what he was doing. In this very spot. So many times over a glass of lemonade.
Eagerly, I nod.“Yeah. I do.”
Patting his stomach, he demands in a cookie monster voice, “Moon Pie first.”
It makes me giggle, and I twist to grab the treats off the tray, handing him one.We unwrap them silently, though I’m not totally paying attention to what I’m doing and finally stop working on the wrapper. The way Wyatt’s hands deftly work, pulling the plastic off, catches my attention as the muscles in his forearm flex. It’s ridiculous, really. He’s not even doing anything with them, but I can’t stop staring as he lifts the marshmallow sandwich to his lips and takes a bite.
Of course, that’s when he notices me noticing him, the pie still at his lips. He lifts an eyebrow in my direction. “What?”
Shaking my head, I finally break mine open. “Nothing. I was just, uh, looking… at, uh, your… tattoos!” The last word comes out in a breath of excitement that my brain kicked into gear, deciding not to leave me hanging. “Yes! Your tattoos.”
There’s a smirk on his face, like he knows I wasn’t looking at his tattoos, and I shove my Moon Pie into my mouth to keep fromsaying anything else. Though, I suppose Iwaslooking at them. It’s not my fault his muscles were distracting me.
After he’s more than half demolished his pie, and I’m a few bites in, I comment, “Gran told me you took her for lunch yesterday.”
“Yeah, her and Mildred.” In amusement, he shakes his head.
“What’s that look for?” I ask.
He leans back, slowing his eager mouth from finishing the pie. “We went to this fancy place. Fancier than I was expecting—”
“Were you as sweaty as you are now? They probably liked that.” The words come out before I have a chance to stop them.
When his eyebrows shoot to the sky, I know my question admitted my guilt in also liking it. But I keep my head high, not backing down from my comment. Idolike it. I can appreciate that my friend is hot. There are plenty of friends that I find hot. Savanna, Quinn, Liam. Hell, all of them.
Minus Nate. He’s too brotherly to be hot.
“Not sweaty. Fresh out of the shower,” he says, and without intending, my eyes drop down to his body. They pop back up a moment later, realizing he probably meant to make me do that. His grin confirms it. “Jeans, white t-shirt, and my cowboy hat.”
Nibbling thoughtfully on my pie, I glance at him again, rocking my head back and forth. “I suppose you probably looked okay like that too.”
“Woman…” The word sounds like a warning, but it’s full of the same playfulness my words were.
“Okay, tell me. What happened?” I ask, turning towards him on the rock to give him my full attention without interruption.
Except this time he’s the one that interrupts. Not with words, but with his eyes when they fall from mine to the skin exposed on my chest, now front and center for him. The plunge of the Vneckline in my dress has cleavage forming even with my only-a-handful breasts, and Wyatt isn’t being shy about looking.
It has warmth filling my belly.
“So, we, uh,” he starts, then finally looks away, shoving the remainder of his treat into his mouth. He refuses to look at me while he chews. Then, swallowing thickly, he says, “Go to this place, and it’s, uh, fancy.”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes. “You mentioned that already.”
This feels like a turn of events. Since the day I told him I couldn’t see him anymore, it seemed like he was calm and collected whenever I saw him. Holding it together, keeping anything brewing beneath the surface at bay. But now he’s like a pile of nerves, and I can’t deny that I’m enjoying it. Even more than the muscles.
“Right, so, we…” Again, he looks at me, and again his eyes drop, like he can’t help himself. Which leads to him giving his head a hard shake. Brushing the crumbs off his fingers onto his jeans, he then reaches for his lemonade. “Fuck. I can’t look at you right now. That dress is distracting.”
“You were fine a few minutes ago,” I muse.
“No, I wasn’t.” Wyatt doesn’t skip a beat. “I haven’t been fine since the second you came in the backyard.”
Biting my lip to keep from either gasping or giggling, I stare at him for a moment, totally flabbergasted. I wouldn’t have guessed that. “It hasn’t seemed like it.”
“Only because you were too busy looking at my ink.” Finally, he turns back towards me, this time keeping his eyes above my neck. For now. “But I haven’t stopped looking.”
When his eyes dip, I can’t help but laugh when he throws his head back in exasperation for himself.
“I’m sorry, this dress is just too good,” he groans, staring upat the sky. “It’s making me a wreck.”
