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He set down a couple extra rolled towels on the bench ahead of him and two bottles of water. I glanced beside me to see one waiting for me along with another rolled up towel. He’d been so silent, I hadn’t even noticed.
Either that, or I’d been so zoned out in the peaceful heat, I’d just never sensed him. “Thanks.”
He looked over his shoulder with a charming smile. “Anytime.”
I closed my eyes again, letting out a contented sigh as I heard him take a seat across from me.
I sat there for the longest time, taking slow deep breaths, letting the heat permeate through me, erasing all memory of that cold from my body. I heard him open the bottle of water and slowly opened my eyes to see him on the bench across from me, putting the cap back on after a lengthy sip.
His dark eyes were closed, head tilted back, lips slightly parted as he relaxed. His legs stretched straight out in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, water bottle in hand.
With his eyes closed, I took a moment to quickly look him over. Beautiful tanned skin over well-defined muscles. A hint of a tattoo peaked out beneath his crossed arms over his chest.
I hadn’t even really asked him what he did…I mean, he’d tipped me a huge amount just to drive him six hours, so he had to have some kind of decent job, right?
So what was he?
I tilted my head back, letting my eyes drift closed while I started ticking off possibilities in my mind. Trust fund baby? Nope, he looked a little too…rough for that.
Businessman. Eh…not enough luggage. No briefcase. No carryon. Just one bag.
Tech guy? No, not glued to his phone nearly enough for that.
Athlete? No, he likely would’ve been playing thedon’t you know who I amcard.
I gave up and opened my eyes to look at him again. He sat sprawled in front of me. Didn’t look like he’d moved a single muscle since he’d sat down. . I guess I could do the normal thing and ask…I mean, we were stranded together for the moment. Might as well make conversation—we had hours to kill ahead of us. While we’d talked a little in the vehicle on the drive, it had mostly been about the roads and traffic and what song was playing on the radio until he had fallen asleep. I knew snoring when I heard it.
I took a sip of my own water then another closer look at him.
From my vantage point, what I could see of his right shoulder peeked the hint of a tattoo that looked like wings of a bird maybe, or angel wings? And another symbol on his forearm…and one more on his chest…and I kept my gaze from drifting further down in case he opened his eyes at any time and found me gawking at him. Because who needed that level of awkward?
My gaze homed in on the tattoo on his chest that his arm had been covering earlier, trying to make it out clearer.
Letters, maybe?
Initials? Could be a girlfriend’s or something, I thought, angling myself just slightly to better see.
With his eyes closed, he shifted slightly, and I froze as he moved his arms, dropping one far enough down that suddenly the tattoo came into full view…
A black and white guitar surrounded by thorns. Right above his heart.
I sank backwards, blinking rapidly to clear away the steam and even waving my hand uselessly in front of me to clear it and looking again.
The heat had to be playing tricks on me.
I peered at him again, dark eyes closed, perfect lashes against his cheeks, dark hair kind of curling from the heat, a drop of sweat trickling slowly down the side of his face.
Broad tanned shoulders…well-toned arms…strong biceps…a cross tattoo on his index finger…
And a damn thorned guitar tattoo.
Only one person I could think of had that precise tattoo…
Someone who’d been named the sexiest rock star of the year a couple years ago.
I knew…because my best friend had bought that specific magazine for purely that reason.
“Damnit. You’rethatDean.”
