Owen still wasn’t talking. Had I overreacted? Not even a little. His mouth opened and closed. His eyes spun up to study the ceiling. His focus was so intense he could be trying to burn holes through the roof.
“Owen? Man, my heart is racing.” I put my hand on my chest to find only bare skin.
“Your, uh, clothes,” he said.
Now it made sense. I was pulling a peep show in my bathing suit. “Yeesh. You act like you’ve never seen a woman in a bikini before.”
Owen’s jaw was clenched, the muscles in his neck tense, eyes still trained on the roof, as he lifted a finger and pointed in my general direction. “I think, uh, in the jumping around the, uh, string got caught. You’re …” His face contorted in a wince.
I looked down to discover that, yes, in fact, in the chaos of my jumping around, the tie holding my top together must have come undone. Hanging out for all to see was my left boob. The headlight was on full display, and the right one was seconds from the same fate.
At least it was the better-looking boob.
Chapter 11
Owen
I spun around,facing the opposite wall. I bent over and grabbed her outerwear and the hat and gloves, tossing it all back in her direction.
“Get dressed,” I said.
“I sort of want to burn these, but okay.” There were more shuffling sounds, and she added, “Sorry about the nip slip.”
I cleared my throat aggressively. “We don’t need to talk about it.”
I had seen women in bikinis before. I had seen breasts, of course. But not Bee’s. Her breasts were full. Her hips flared out. Her smooth skin begged for a hand to run all over it. I would never shake the image of her standing there with that perfectly delectable breast on display, except for the neon green pieces of fabric that barely covered her. Or in fact, didn’t cover her at all.
Those breasts, so soft yet heavy and begging to be pushed together and played with.
I balled my fists, trying to take control of my mind that wanted to go down that path further. I tried not to think about kissing and touching her. I wanted to make our own heat in thislittle box until the windows steamed. Until nothing else but her pleasure was on my mind. My attraction to her had always been there as a low-level simmer in the background, but now, it boiled over. I was never bold enough to act on my crush. I never felt good enough for her company, never worthy enough to talk with her.
But this night, chatting with her, laughing with (and at) her unique way of seeing things, the attraction roiled out of control, demanding more of my attention, more than the fear or anything else that might be on my mind.
I swallowed and shifted. These feelings for her were too strong, too fast. It didn’t make any sense. I had to get a grip. I needed to get it together. She might not be afraid of me, but that in no way gave consent for all the dirty images in my mind.
I could lift her onto me so easily …
I was here for a job.
“Are you decent?” I asked, an edge to my voice.
“As if I ever stopped.” There were more shuffling sounds as the tram shook with her movements. “But yeah, I’m dressed.”
When I cautiously spun around, she was back on the bench, shivers wracking her small frame again. I sat next to her but gave her space.
Time to get my head on straight. It wasn’t smart to think of her as anything other than the package to be delivered to Benny. I was here to get paid, not drool over Bee. I tilted my head from side to side, finding relief in the cracking.
There had to be an explanation for all of her actions leading to this moment, and it was time she delivered.
“Now,” I said. “I think it’s time you explained what the hell you’re doing in a bikini and why you are so desperate to get back up that mountain.”
“You don’t even want to know.” She sighed and looked away.
“I guess if you’re too chicken, you don’t have to.” I had a feeling that might be a more fruitful approach to take with Bee.
Bee’s mouth dropped open before it snapped shut, pinching as tight as her narrowed eyes. “I amnota chicken.”
That much was obvious. There were many words to describe Bee in our short acquaintance—rambunctious, precocious, life-threatening—butchickenwas not even close. If she was so eager to talk, let her talk. I’d finally crack this mysterious little nut yet.
