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He runs his handover the mission-style crafted locker from the top to the bottom drawer. “Whatcha’ keep in here?”
“Not much, you can open it.”
He moves his hand around and picks up each item—glove oil, lip balm, and my backup pair of lucky underwear. He chuckles as his brown skin reddens. “Never thought I would touch another man’s underwear,” he says, as he closes the drawer then digs his hand into his pocket and pulls a pocket watch out.
“Son, you don’t have anything important in that drawer. Sure, you might need those things but as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never talked about someone special. Is there a girl in your life?”
Talynn flashes across my mind, but I shake my head. I sit down beside him and grate my palms over my thighs. “I’ve always been focused on my career. My parents made sure there was no time.”
He opens the pocket watch. One side shows the inner workings with all of the gears, and on the other side is his wife. She’s beautiful. Her short, black hair hangs to her shoulders.
“Son, I want you to have this. When you find a woman whose smile makes the earth stand still and her smile alone can make the sun rise, put her picture right here.” He taps his finger against the watch. “Then never let her go.” Tears form in the corner of his eyes. I slide my arm around his shoulders hoping that I can live a life like his.
As if the universe is throwing me a gigantic hint, Talynn comes bouncing around the corner with a fresh, breathtaking smile. “Hey, the kids are wanting us to play a game of tag. You in?”
Oscar grins. He slides the pocket watch into the drawer and pushes it closed. “You go. Who could say no to that smile?”
Not me.
ChapterEight
TALYNN
“Do not come in here.” I throw the phone onto the bed.
Tackett chuckles. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
I fold my arms over my waist and take in the smell of sweat and the tight muscles. I would love to get my hands on them, which reminds me that I need to get a job.
“Go take a shower. We’re going to celebrate.”
He leans against my doorframe. “What are we celebrating?”
“I passed my massage therapy test.”
He dives toward me and sweeps me into his arms. I feel the hard planes of his back and taste the salt on my lips as my head dips into the crook of his neck. Roommates. Ugh.
“Congratulations.”
I shrink out of the hug and back him out in the hall. “Shower. Now. We’re also celebrating your last night before the season starts back up. Hurry, and we’ll go see Megan before we get to our final destination.” One eye narrows as his cheek slightly rises. The smile that lurks behind his lips fills my body with an indescribable warmth before he steps into his room and closes the door.
Tackett and I have spent every day together delivering water and food to those who signed up at the stadium. We work, hang out, and he goes to practice while I submit resumes. He’s eating and using a shit ton of dishes to make sure I complete my end of the bet.
Although it’s been less than two weeks since opening day, it seems like an eternity. Our friendship grows every day. It’s easy being in the same proximity as him.
I open my bedroom door while trying to secure the strap of my sandal over my heel and I fall forward into a wall of…well…man.
Oh, good Lord, he just came out of the bathroom with my beach towel wrapped around his muscular hips. Fitting enough, the beach towel says,Girls Just Wanna Have Fun!
Yes, we do.
I take everything I just thought back. It’snoteasy living platonically with a man that not only fills out his boxer briefs but also a damn beach towel. I admit it’s a thin, cheap towel that I bought on spring break my senior year of high school, but I can see the outline of his manhood.
I can’t swallow. My mouth is drier than the Mojave Desert and he’s the mirage of water. I want to lick every last water bead from his chest and remove the towel.
“Tay? Do you have any petroleum jelly?” He snaps his fingers because I may be gawking at his package.
I realize my hands are floating up his chest when he gently covers my wrist with his hand. His body inflates and deflates gradually. My gaze finally meets his and those clear blue eyes are slightly shadowed with a look I’ve seen before in men—desire.
