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“I’ll take you up on that.” He grinned and climbed out of bed, allowing her a good look at him in his boxer briefs and nothing else. They left little to the imagination, and yep, he had a semiserious case of morning wood happening. “Quit gawking, and go brush your teeth,” he teased.
She scurried out of his bedroom before she could say or do something stupid.
Like tackle him to the ground.
Chapter Eleven
THEY STARTED OUT the afternoon running a few mundane errands—she needed to go to the post office to temporarily forward her personal mail to the dance studio, and Tate wanted to stop by the hardware store for a few things. They joked around and he helped take her mind off the disaster that had become her life. He was sweet and kind, and she wondered at first if he had an ulterior motive until she finally realized he was just . . .
Being himself.
It was dangerous, hanging out with Tate, running errands like they were a real couple and living a life—together. They so weren’t. Yes, they were attracted to each other and might end up messing around with each other, but come on. They hadn’t even kissed yet. What was he waiting for?
What are you waiting for?
“Where are we going next?” she asked after they got back into his SUV.
He flashed a secretive smile in her direction before returning his attention to the road. “The lake.”
She gaped at him. “The lake? Why?”
“First, it’s hot as hell today, and I wanted to cool off. Second, you need to do something fun to take your mind off the shit you went through lately. And third, I want to see you in a bikini.” His grin was wicked when he said that last bit.
“But I don’t have a bikini,” she said, her head spinning. He wanted to see her in a bikini? Of course he did. He’d had his hands all over her this morning before, like an idiot, she’d leapt out of his bed and ran away like a chicken. Something would’ve happened. Something momentous that she’d been too scared to face.
But Tate acted like it never occurred. He’d been easygoing the entire day, never bringing up their extremely close and potentially awkward moment in bed earlier.
Now she sort of wanted to talk about it. Or explore it further.
Okay, fine, she totally wanted to explore it further.
“I have one for you.”
She stared at him. “You have a bikini for me?”
He nodded.
“Where’d you get it?”
“I bought it.” He shrugged, sending her another quick look. “When you were at the post office? I went to that little clothing store next door.”
Oh. God. She shopped there often. Did he know her size? What if it didn’t fit? What if it exposed too much skin? What if—
“Stop worrying. You’re going to look great, and you’ll have fun. I promise. We’ll hang out at the beach and swim for a little while, and then we’ll go grab lunch,” he said, his words shutting off her overactive brain.
Well, not quite. She still couldn’t stop wondering why he would’ve bought her a bikini. Or how she might look in it. Or that she’d feel exposed in front of him, and she didn’t want to do that. He made her feel exposed enough when she was fully clothed.
In all honesty, he made her feel lots of things she didn’t understand, and that left her confused. Always with a look or a joke or a smile, he seemed so at ease around her. So nice. And she’d been nothing but awful, like some sort of weird defense mechanism to push him away.
Instead here they were. Together. Not together together, but still. She was staying at his house. He bought her a bikini. He’d wrapped himself around her in his bed while she slept there wearing only his T-shirt.
Everything had just turned . . . frighteningly weird between them. In a good way.
In a very, very good, very, very confusing way.
She didn’t want to like him. She didn’t. So . . . why did she? Because she was in a vulnerable place and he was being so kind?
Her mouth curved into a frown, and she averted her head, staring out the window and watching the world pass by. She hoped he didn’t pity her. That he was being so nice only because she had nowhere else to go, w
