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Cue the depressing of my lust button. My forest comes alive with the sound of my ovaries singing. My boobies tighten up, wanting to get noticed while my nipples fight their way through the bikini fabric—my girly bits tingle. I want to dance a Scottish jig in celebration. The list is endless, really, of what the kilted one does to me, and he doesn’t even know it because my poker face is champion.
Today’s tartan is forest green and gold. I see Shamus is trying to get with today’s theme, or it is pure coincidence. Most probably the latter. Angus told us his brother does wear other male clothing, but I’m all for this dress code. Boots, kilt, and a long-sleeved black lightweight knit sweater.
Jensen follows Shamus through the door, a handsome guy with the most beautiful blue eyes and the best afro, but I only have peepers for the kilted one.
Why is that?
I can’t explain how my attraction meter decided Shamus was a ten-out-of-ten because Jensen is gorgeous, well-built from working outdoors, and an all-around nice guy. But it is what it is. I am Team Shamus.
Ophelia lifts herself over the edge of the pool, getting to her feet with a grace I can’t pull off. She raises her goggles over her head before readjusting her tiny black bikini bottoms because one side will inevitably get sucked into the butt crack area.
I try not to be envious of her toned, petite body. I’ve always been curvy, and I know it suits me, but we all sometimes wish for what we don’t have. I’m taller, thicker, longer limbed, heavier, but I am proportioned. It all works in harmony, but sometimes we can all feel insecure, but we just need to remind ourselves: I am woman; hear meroar.
Angus claps his hands together. “Well, if you two sheilas aren’t a sight for sore eyes in sexy string bikinis. Outstanding bodies ladi—”
Shamus’s arm swings out with his palm smacking Angus across the chest, silencing his brother while his mouth drops open then shut. “Woman, where’s yer towel ye need to cover up?” Shamus grumbles at me, shoving the enormous bunch of cheery sunflowers into Angus’s face, blocking his vision.
“What did you say?” I narrow my eyes at Shamus.
“Ye heard me, lass, I said ye need to cover yer body—”
“Well, G’day to you too, oh-Scottish-grumpy-bum!” My face is flaming as I blaze a trail, stomping through the sliding door, swaying my hips for extra effect, my lust-button taking a nose-dive.
I hear Shamus call out, “What did I say wrong? Hey… Gwendoline… hold up!”
“Not likely,” I murmur under my breath, not going any farther than inside the sliding door, behind the curtain because my towel is right behind Shamus; he didn’t give me a chance to pick it up, and I don’t want to drip water through the house. I know Ophelia or Paisley will help a girl out.
I have curves like a back road—nothing to be ashamed of. I’m the opposite of a string bean, but I certainly don’t need to cover myself up when in a bikini just because my hips are a little wider, my arse a little chunkier. Yeah, I got junk in the trunk, butwhatever.
I’m pacing back and forth, feeling humiliated and overheated, while I catch some of what Angus is saying to his Shamus, “… brother, not cool. I was enjoying the view,” Angus complains. “Ye have only been back home for a day, and now yer upsetting the neighbors. Bad little brother,” Angus reprimands Shamus.
“She wasshivering,ye randy goat. It’s too bloody cold out here for a teeny bikini. The lass will catch a cold standing about after being in the heated water. I meant no harm. Of course, she looks bloody nice in a red bikini. I was offering to get the towel for her. I’m not insulting the lass or her body.”
I peek around the curtain and watch Angus shove the massive bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers back into the kilted one’s arms, then sidestep him and snatch up my towel before moving to walk inside.
“Give it here.” Shamus shoves the flowers back into Angus’s arms while swiping my Aboriginal flag towel from his older brother, ignoring his scowl. Then he storms toward where I amhiding,standing inside. “Gwendoline…” My name rumbles off his tongue, and I get girl tingles again. He walks behind the curtain. “There ye are. Here ye go.” I get swaddled tightly in my fluffy beach towel. “You… um… look mighty fine in that scrap of material, lass.” Then he walks back outside.
Oh,I misunderstood the sexy kilted one. Shamus likes what he sees.
And all is forgiven.
Lust-bomb detonates.
Fifty-One
GETTING THE SISTERHOOD BACK TOGETHER
Ophelia
My heart pinwheels. Shamus is here.
Does that mean Tucker is here?
My hope builds as I tensely wait for Tucker to walk through behind Shamus, but Jensen does instead. He’s dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved button-up. I invited him and his dad to our Aussie shindig because that’s what friends do, so of course, he is here.
Jensen’s blue eyes glide over my body before catching himself. He gives me a casual wave and a smile.
How quickly my life changed. One minute I am preaching to Jensen we are only friends, I don’t date, and then the very next day, Tucker walks back into my life as though he never left it, and now I am pining for the guy.
