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“I have no idea. I don’t understand how this is possible. Players from the University of South Carolina don’t play in this conference.” He had told me he was attending U of SC.
“Maybe he went to a different school?”
“Maybe.” But where? The air conditioner kicks on, the forced air causing me to shiver. I wrap my towel around me tighter and bring my hand to my forehead. I gasp as wetness coats my palms. “Oh no. My hair.”
“Believe me, he wasn’t looking at your hair.”
“But I look awful. He hasn’t seen me in three years, and I look likethis.” Plopping on my back, I let out a wince.
“It’s fine. Speaking of fine, did you see how he’s filled out?” She stands up and walks over to my desk, where her clothes lay in a heap.
“The whole ten seconds I saw him, I couldn’t get past those deep brown eyes.”
“Just wait, honey. Your libido is about to kick into overdrive. Wearing that black leather jacket over a white T-shirt and those ripped jeans, he looks like an eighties heartthrob ripped straight from the cover ofTiger Beat.”
I press my lips together to keep from smiling. Okay, I did notice that. But I can’t think about Dalton that way. It’s too risky.
She slides into her flip-flops. “Okay, I’m out of here. I need to get ready for my date.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to cancel, so I don’t have to face him alone?” I sit up and give her my best pleading eyes, but that only draws up a laugh.
“Chicken.”
“I won’t deny that.” I force myself to stand. Wallowing in self-pity won’t help my cause. I’m damp, cold, and could use a good shower.
“You know, you wouldn’t be in this situation had you talked to him.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don’t need a voice of reason right now.” What I need is to harness good acting skills.
She wraps her fingers around the door handle and glances back at me. “It is ironic that he’s here. Don’t you think?”
“A total kismet moment,” I whisper. How ironic indeed. If it weren’t for my overbearing loves-to-put-the-fear-of-God-into-you father, Dalton wouldn’t be here.
“I never believed in all of that, but I have to admit this is pretty weird.” She glances at her phone. “Ugh, I do need to go.”
“Go on. Tell Chaz I said hi.” I know she needs to leave, but part of me wishes she wouldn’t. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Dalton. How am I supposed to act normal when I feel anything but?
“I’ll talk to you later. Good luck,” Nicole singsongs as she opens the bedroom door and waves her fingers at me as Bellow trots down the hallway.
“Thanks.” I sweep Bellow into my arms and shut my bedroom door. Leaning with my back against it, I let out a long exhale. I look into his dark brown eyes and ask, “What am I going to do?”
His answer comes in the form of a lick to the face.
“That’s not helpful.” I laugh, but it turns into a low groan.
I didn’t get much of a chance to see Dalton when I slipped off the raft. I was too shocked, but when he stood in my kitchen, and his intense gaze traced my every movement, that same feeling I had three years ago slammed into me. It’s as if no time had passed, and he has waited for me this entire time.
As if fate finally brought him to me.
Bellow squirms and jumps out of my arms. Pushing off the door, I catch sight of my reflection in the dresser mirror.Jeez, I look worse than I thought. Not only is my hair a wet pile of frizz, but the smeared eyeliner makes me look like I’ve been on a bender. No wonder Dad was angry. He hates me wearing makeup.
I tighten the beach towel around my waist, determined to rectify my hair’s hot mess with a long, hot shower. As I swing the bedroom door open, Bellow darts between my legs, tripping me forward right as Dalton steps from the bathroom.
A small yelp escapes, followed by solid, muscular arms steadying me. I suppress the second whimper as my gaze takes in that rock-hard body. Mother of all things holy, he’s hot. My focus shifts from his tattooed arms to the towel draped low around that glorious waist that I remember so vividly in my dreams. My eyes continue to climb up his body. Dalton’s still fit, but more defined than I remember, maturity agreeing with him. I’m familiar with the ink sleeving his arms, but the wildcat tattoo covering his right chest is new. It takes great effort to restrain from tracing the animal’s outline with my tongue. Goodness, I want to eat him up.
“You okay?”
His deep voice pulls me to those dark, brown eyes. A water droplet falls from the wet ringlets framing his forehead and lands between us on the floor. The sound I make may resemble a yes, but I really don’t know. I’m so mesmerized by his presence my mind keeps reverting to when his body hovered over mine. I itch to reach out and touch him. To let my fingers wander over his defined muscles.
