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Drew clears his throat. “But your dress is down there.”
I glance at my lap. The peach satin bodice lies in a heap around my waist. Great. I try to pull it back over the strapless bra, but it’s a wet, twisted mess.
I fight with it until it at least covers my bra. The clingy satin outlines my belly and legs like a shiny second skin.
My empty cup has fallen sideways on the cot. I snatch it up and hold it out to Drew. “Get me a damn drink.”
His jaw moves back and forth as he works it. But he takes the cup and pours another inch. “Take it easy.”
I probably should. But if I’m stuck with Drew for hours, I’m going to need all the liquid courage I can get.
I take a gulp.
“You might want to hang up the dress so it can dry,” he says.
I might be bullheaded, but I’m on the shy end when it comes to skin. I don’t flash mine around. “I’m not getting naked around you. I know about your reputation. Franklin told Ronnie about your ridiculous number of one-night stands. That you’re worse than a rabbit. Did you know a male bunny can bang a girl in less than five seconds?”
“I’m aware.”
“Oh, right. You’re a veterinarian. Ronnie said you can seduce the humps off a camel.”
His eyes bore into me. “Trust me, seducing you is the last thing on my mind.”
Oh, is it? Now he’s pissedmeoff.
I let go of the bodice, and it falls to my waist again. I don’t have to look to know the white bra has gone sheer with the wetness.
He growls and turns away to pour himself another shot of bourbon.
I’m mad enough to be crazy, so I decide to do as he says. Let the dress dry. I stand up and unzip the back, shimmying until it hits the floor.
He acts like he’s not looking, but even though his back is to me, I can see the side of his face.
He’s definitely looking.
My throat feels thick as I take the dress to hang over a mower handle like Drew did with his jacket. I move quickly, feeling self-conscious about the panties, which might be see-through from being damp.
When I turn around, Drew has stripped off his shirt. He kicks off his shoes and peels off his socks. Then his pants drop. Soon he’s in nothing but shiny black boxers.
“Seemed fair,” he says.
All right, then. I guess this is his way of being chivalrous.
My breath catches. His chest is broad and muscled, leading to wide shoulders and bulging arms. I remember seeing him without a shirt once, back when he was Garrett’s friend and they were playing football on the front lawn during summer. Sweat had glistened on his skin, and I’d fallen off my perch at the window, knocking over a lamp and making the boys laugh.
But that moment is nothing compared to this. I’m on fire. I want to touch him, and for him to touch me. This pull is like nothing I’ve felt before.
He brushes past me to spread his pants and shirt across the mower handles.
I plunk down on the cot, trying not to shiver. The warming effect of the bourbon is wearing off, but I’m afraid to drink more. I’m a lightweight, and I need my head on straight for this.
Drew takes his time arranging his things, as if he’s avoiding turning around. What’s that all about?
Then I wonder—does he have a woody?
A giggle threatens to erupt. Did I have an effect on Drew? The twelve-year-old girl in me who would have died to know says I have to find out.
I stand up again, heading to the opposite cabinet to see if I can get a good angle. “I don’t guess they have a heater in sheds like this,” I say, pretending to look around like there might be one somewhere.
