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“Mr. Morgan’s stroke,” I say slowly.
That brings her back to reality.
“Oh yes,” she says, eyes shimmering with tears suddenly. “The stroke was so scary. And surprising. Ted is such an active man. We cycle together twice a week and run together three times a week. Just shows that you can’t outwit Mother Nature.”
“But,” she continues, taking a deep breath. “Some good has come out of it because the boys have all agreed to come home for a bit of the summer. Their dad needs extra help and it sounded like the right time to have everyone under one roof. I wish it were under easier circumstances,” she says reflectively. “But when crisis strikes, my boys band together.”
Wow. They definitely must be a close-knit family, which is so unlike my relationship with my parents.
“That’s awesome,” I say sincerely. “I’m so glad to hear you’ll have your sons’ support.” And at that moment, I see a guy fiddling with the pool gate. Mrs. Morgan hears the scrape of the metal as well, and turns, clapping her hands.
“You’re gonna get a chance to meet one of them now,” she says to me with a smile. “Mattie,” she calls. “Come say hi to Macy.”
Mattie? What kind of name is that? I had a boy Cabbage Patch doll way back when, and his name was Mattie. It’s cute, in a spunky, go-getter type of way.
But no way is the guy walking towards us a Cabbage Patch. The opposite in fact. Because the man’s a god, all strong thighs and washboard abs. Holy smokes. My lady parts are all in a twist just looking at the alpha’s jet-black hair, sparkling blue eyes and five-o’clock shadow.
And that smile. Oh god, that smile. Mattie or Matt, whatever his name is, reaches out a hand, smirking as his eyes travel the length of my body. I get goosebumps at just this tiny interaction. My nipples go rock hard, chafing against my bathing suit top. His eyes stop there, knowing and teasing.
But he doesn’t give anything away.
“Hi there, Macy,” comes a growl, that voice a sexy, husky sound that makes me ache between my legs.
“Um, hi?” I say, more of a question than a statement.
He grins, teeth sparkling, white and straight, and strides over to my mom, who’s fussing at the grill.
“How in the world?” she asks, frustrated.
But Matt’s got it under control. In two seconds, he’s got the barbecue going, gas hissing evenly as the flames flicker.
I can barely take my eyes off him, but that wouldn’t work. So seeing nothing, I turn away blindly, nodding as Mrs. Morgan chats away. Oh god, Matt is so hot. Unbelievably arousing, with muscles and a bronzed body that makes my insides warm.
More guests arrive and I feel more and more uncomfortable in my tiny bikini. There’s my slipping suit, for sure. The horny old bastard who lives three houses down keeps dropping things and asking me to pick them up. I oblige the first few times, but after that, no way. I’m not giving him any more peeks.
But even more, it’s an awareness of Matt Morgan. I can sense where he is, even without looking, like there’s a live wire running between us. So to cool down, I jump into the pool and manage to doggy paddle a little, splashing water here and there.
But when I finally catch my breath, hanging onto the cement edge, who’s there but Matt Morgan treading water, looking every bit like a male model with that bronzed chest and penetrating blue eyes.
“Hey there,” he drawls. “Nice doggy paddle you got going.”
I blush. Even with a pool at home, I could never manage anything more advanced. Me and water … well, let’s just say I’ll never be a mermaid.
“Um thanks,” I mumble shyly. “Thanks.”
Why am I so tongue-tied? But those blue eyes gleam at me, his huge body powerful even at ease.
“Yeah, real nice,” he drawls. “But I think you lost something.”
He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at my chest.
I look down and gasp. Yes, both breasts are bobbing in the water, huge and creamy, giant white buoys. I grab the material and try to rearrange the cloth to cover as much as possible. Meanwhile, Matt just sits there and grins, enjoying the show.
Finally decent again, I look back up at him, flustered. Why oh why does this have to be happening in front of the hottest guy I’ve ever met? Why me, God? Why?
But Matt shows no mercy.
“Please, please dive off the diving board so I can see your bottoms fall off as well,” he drawls then.
