I clear my throat, waiting for him to turn off the damn saw.When he doesn’t, I flick the red button for him.“I said, did you put on sunblock today?”
He braces his hands on his hips, right where they cut in toward his low-hanging jeans, but doesn’t answer the question I’ve asked twice now.
Maybe I don’t want to go out with a jerk.
I don’t care how hot hate-sex is.
My gaze accidentally trails to the front of his jeans.
Imagine all that in a wetsuit.
Stupid Lola putting crazy thoughts in my head.
My gaze flies back to Ethan’s frowning face.
I came over here on a humanitarian mission that doesn’t include drooling or ogling.“Look, if you insist on working without proper attire and don’t put on lotion,” I say, “your back is going to get even more sunburnt than it already is.Here.”I hold out the lotion.A coconut-scented olive branch.
Ethan swipes a hand across his sweaty forehead.“How do you expect me to put that on my own back?”
Walked straight into that one.“I guess I can do it.”
He mutters something under his breath but turns around.This isn’t a big deal.I put lotion on my friends all the time.A back is a back.“You’re sweaty.”And yet he smells like sawdust and men’s soap.
“No, I’m Ethan.”
This guy’s jokes are terrible.I’m completely unaffected and definitely not enjoying how disgusting his hard muscles feel beneath my hands.Gross.
“Are you done yet?It’s making me cold.”He shudders.
“Skin cancer feels worse.”
It’s not just the pain of getting a chunk of yourself removed or the fear that maybe they didn’t get it all that sucks.Don’t get me wrong.That hurts like hell.But the worst part about getting cancer is the pit in your stomach that opens up from the day you receive the diagnosis to the moment the doctor hopefully gives you a clean bill of health.And every day after that, because you’re afraid they were wrong and it’s going to come back.
I was one of the lucky ones.There are way too many stories I’ve heard that don’t end happily.No one deserves that.
Ethan glances over his shoulder, his green gaze searching my face.“You had cancer?”he asks, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.
“Afraid so.”I nod and tap my arm where the hideous scar dips into my skin.“Right here.”Originally, I wanted to get a tattoo to cover it up, but my doctor told me not to in case the melanoma came back.Instead of scrapping the idea, though, I decided to get one in a different spot as a celebration of my health.Willow claims that mermaids symbolize rebirth and renewal, and when I saw her sketch, I knew it was perfect.
It takes me a second to realize my hands are still pressed to Ethan’s broad back, his serious eyes focused on me.The blazing sun has nothing to do with the heat that climbs up my chest.
I yank my hands off his skin, then twist the cap back onto the tube and toss it onto the pile of short boards next to me.“Consider this payment for the tire and my brakes,” I say.
The corner of his lips twitch, almost as if he’s about to smile.“Thanks.”
I should leave.
I helped, and he let me, and this should conclude our business together.
Imagine all that in a wetsuit.
Curse you, Lola.
I draw a breath.“So, I was thinking about our conversation last night and thought we could find some adventure this weekend.”
His mouth tightens and a crease finds his brow.“I’m working on a tight deadline, Chloe.”
I like how he says my name—all irritated and grouchy, just gruff enough to make my stomach flutter.“You’re not a robot,Ethan.You can’t work all day every day.”That’s a surefire way to burn out.“Come surfing with me.I promise it’ll be fun.”
