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“I can’t even imagine eating that nightmarish black-and-red thing that invaded the wedding.”
I chuckle. “They’re not exactly cute. People are used to seeing crabs in the context of dinner plates or Disney movies. The real thing can be unsettling.”
There’s a spot close to my door for once, and I slide into it. “Let me help you out.”
“I’m not an old lady.”
Despite her protest, Tillie lets me help her out of the car. I spin a dozen excuses for my place, its plain carpets, white walls, and sparse furnishings.
But when I open the door, she takes in everything with wide eyes. “I love it. It’s so big and tidy. There’s no clutter anywhere.” She turns to me, an accusation ready. “Does your mom come over here to clean?”
I shake my head. “She’d be more likely to chase me with a broom until I cleaned it all up.”
Tillie skirts the coffee table to sit on the edge of the beige sofa. “She taught you to be neat.”
“I guess so.” The truth is closer to me never feeling particularly attached to the place, so I didn’t feel the need to decorate. I sit on the chair near her. “Can I help you with the burn? Does it hurt to wear clothes?”
She tilts her head. “Gabe Landers, are you trying to get me naked?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“It won’t do you much good.”
“I’ve guessed that.”
She shrugs the cardigan off her shoulders. Her arms don’t look too bad.
“Is it your back?”
She shakes her head. “Mostly the front. It would have beenyourback.”
I picture her in the water, lying with her face to the sun. “You want to show me?”
She stands, but before she takes off anything else, I lead her through the living room to the hall and into my bedroom.
“Okay, there’s more mess here,” she says, running her hand along the edge of the dresser that’s filled with shells, keys, business cards, and random items dumped from pockets. “Good to know you aren’t perfect.” She kicks off her shoes. “You’re not allowed to gasp or freak out, okay?”
I nod. I’m about to flip the light on when I decide, maybe not. There’s plenty of indirect sun from the shutters.
She grasps the bottom of her T-shirt. I’ve already figured out she’s not wearing a bra beneath it, which makes sense. That would be tight and painful.
When her shirt hits the bed, I see it. She’s quite red across the chest in a deep, even tone.
“In a couple of days, your lack of tan lines is going to be fucking hot,” I tell her.
She laughs. “Probably.” She looks down. “I do tan, but I don’t get much opportunity. I keep vampire hours.”
“How’s the rest of you?”
“Belly is about the same. Warning—there are no panties here.”
I hold up my hands. “I’m prepared.”
She slides the skirt down. The color of her skin is bold and unbroken.
My dick goes into overdrive.
“I know. It’s sexy. I guess this is why women get naked in tanning beds.”
