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from the sink.
I turned off the water as fast as I could, but my pants were still soaked.
I looked down at them then decided, ‘fuck it.’
Taking them off, I kicked them into the corner of the bathroom, then went in search of my suitcase.
I didn’t find it. Not anywhere in the house.
Which only had me guessing that Luca had focused on bringing me in, not anything else.
But I did find a discarded t-shirt on the back of the couch that belonged to Luca.
Thinking it would cover more than my t-shirt that was partially wet as well, I shucked mine off
over my head, and immediately put Luca’s on.
Luca.
It was so easy to call him that in my head now.
Speaking of Luca, I saw him still standing exactly where he was at earlier, only now he had a beer
tipped up to his lips and he was drinking it quickly down.
I smiled as I saw him, then opened the back patio door.
The first thing that assaulted me was the smell of brine.
The next thing was the sound of the waves crashing into the sand.
The third? Well, that was Luca of course.
He turned when he heard the door open, and it wasn’t the scars that I first saw.
But the muscles underneath the scars.
They were still there.
And though he may not be as pretty as he once was, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still ripped as
hell.
“Hey,” I said.
He grinned when he saw me.
“The faucet got you?” he asked, sounding amused.
I nodded.
“Me, too.” He gestured to the shirt I was wearing. “It got me in the chest. I took my shirt off about an hour ago and laid it out there. I’m guessing it’s dry?”
I only nodded.
“Looks better on you anyway,” he murmured. “Like a dress.”
I didn’t wait for the invite.
