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Luckily, the neighborhood is pretty quiet this time of day. It’s shortly after school let out, and too early for people to be home from work, so no one will see me like this. It’s just me, my chunky rottweiler, and the sprawling manicured lawns bordered by natural landscaping rather than fence lines to avoid interrupting the effect of money at work. I swipe my arm over my forehead and emit a tiny groan. Maybe I’ll whip up homemade ice cream when we get back. Pumpkin ice cream sounds so good right now.
Constantine doesn’t mind the heat, happily keeping pace at my side with his tongue lolling out. I laugh when he stops to sniff a garden bed, coming nose to nose with a fat bumble bee that bonks against his snout and sends him into a playful tumble in the grass.
“Oh, Con, you silly boy. Come on. It’s too hot to stay out for our usual walk.” I give his lead a tug and continue down the sidewalk. “When we get home, we’re making ice cream. How’s that sound?”
Constantine gives me the cutest head tilt, his black ears perked.
A jogger rounds the corner on the next block and my steps falter. Shirtless, abs and pecs glistening in the sunlight, Connor Bishop looks like a god amongst men. His light brown hair bounces with his effortless running form, his long legs powerful as he cuts his path. Everything about his aura says confident, knows what he wants, and nothing’s stopping him from getting it. It’s an alluring sight to behold, addictive to be around in school—it’s no wonder everyone flocks to him. He’s really hot, but I could never want him.
No matter how attractive he looks, especially now, running toward me in nothing but basketball shorts, it doesn’t forgive how he’s treated me the few times he’s paid me any attention since we were kids.
I force myself to keep walking toward my house. Self-consciousness creeps back in.
Why are these streets so long? Why are our houses both in the middle? Maybe he’ll reach his before me and I won’t have to worry about interacting with him. It’s not like he’s noticed me much this year.
We’re almost home free, but Connor catches my eye after I close out of the playlist on my phone once I reach my driveway. I freeze, arrested by the full force of his attention. It’s weirdly commanding, without him telling me to wait I’m obeying. He gives me a once over that floods my cheeks with warmth. Oh my god.
Does he think I look weird? A crop top is all wrong for me, I knew it.
No.
That’s not true. My inner critic can shove it. I have a body and I can dress it any way I want.
I bet Wyatt wouldn’t think my outfit is strange. He appreciates me. I’m already picturing taking a naughty selfie later where I lose the sports bra and flash my boobs, holding the hem of the crop top up with my teeth.
Knowing there’s at least one person out there who finds me beautiful just as I am gives me the strength I need to face Connor.
Constantine plops onto his haunches by my side, dragging me from being under Connor’s controlling spell. His cool gray eyes flick to the dog for a second before flying back to meet my gaze.
“Um,” I mumble, twisting the leash in my hands.
Connor takes AirPods from his ear and studies me again, slower this time, dragging his gaze down my body. “Were you looking at me, neighbor? Here? Or maybe here?”
As he taunts me, he smooths a hand over his pec, then down his torso, hooking his thumb in the waistband of his shorts. His knuckles are red and there’s a bruise on his jaw. It makes him look more dangerously handsome.
Air catches in my throat when I inhale too sharply. I fling my hands in front of myself defensively. “I—no, I—”
“Relax.” Connor’s voice is as smooth as the curve of his smirking full lips. He rubs his chin and rakes his teeth over his lower lip. “There’s no crime in it.” Each brush of his eyes is like a brand as they sweep over my legs and back up, lingering on my chest.
My breaths come faster. It’s hard to ignore him when he’s making sure I can’t look away. Those gray eyes have some kind of magic that keeps me rooted in place. This might be the closest I’ve ever been to him.
A raspy chuckle drops from his lips. “Look at you, turning red, little mouse. Are you blushing from the heat or—” He steps closer, leaning in, lips nearly brushing my cheek “—because you like what you see?”
I jerk my head back as my heart thuds from his proximity and the rich, earthy scent of his sweaty skin. He really enjoys the sound of his own voice. For a second, his voice almost sounds like Wyatt’s, but I brush that aside. It’s simply that he’s mocking me with his flirty over-sexualization of everything.
“It’s human nature to look. You know, with your dumpy clothes I never pictured you were hiding that underneath.”
Connor gestures at my midsection, where my curves are on display. I suck in another sharp breath and narrow my eyes.
“Now, just what is that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs. “You should lose the bulky sweaters. They do nothing for you. About as much sex appeal as a bunch of grandmas playing bridge.”
I open my mouth to tell him off for being such an ass, but our front door opens and Mom steps out, keeping to the shade behind the stacked stone columns. She lurks there, watching us. When I don’t move, she crosses her arms.
“Thea,” she snaps.
My mouth purses and I tighten my grip on Constantine’s leash. He shifts at my feet, restless from the tension rolling off me. Is she kidd
