Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(20)

Molly smiled. “Sounds like my kind of place.”

I nodded. “It was heaven. Anyway, the owner took pity on me. In the beginning, she’d slide me the day-old baked goods, and then once it became clear I wasn’t going away, she let me go behind the counter and help her.”

“Is that where you learned to bake?” Lexi asked.

I smiled. “She taught me everything I know.”

“So that’s what you would be doing if you weren’t competing in the Olympics?” Molly asked, laughing. “Baking?”

I stared up at the ceiling and closed my eyes, picturing myself behind the counter of the bakery. It was almost purpose-built for inducing nostalgia; the haze of flour hanging in the air might as well have been pixie dust, enchanting me with the everlasting aroma of fresh baked goodness. The radiant warmth from the enormous ovens enveloped my tired muscles, soothing them better than any heating pad could. After the technical demands of the gym, I reveled in the simplicity of following tried and true recipes.

“I guess,” I answered honestly. “I haven’t thought about it, really. It’d be fun—”

“GUYS!” Rosie shouted.

She was walking into the living room from the kitchen, but something had caught her attention out the window. “LOOK.”

All three of us jumped off the couch and ran to the window.

“Holy…”

Erik was walking back to his house from the hangar after a workout. He was shirtless, sweaty, and ripped. I’d seen his body the first day I arrived and I knew he worked out a lot—I’d nearly passed out trying to keep up with him during our morning run—but the sight of him still stole my breath.

“I want to lick this window right now,” Lexi said, pushing her face closer.

She wasn’t kidding. The glass was fogged over in front of her lips.

“He looks like Wolverine,” Molly said.

“Or Superman,” Rosie added.

“We’re gonna need a cleanup on aisle three,” Lexi said.

I waved my hand in front of the window to get them to stop. “Gross, Lex, we get it.”

“But look at that back.”

I am. It was broad and tan and glistening with sweat. He pulled his tank off his shoulder and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. When he reached the steps to his back porch, he took them two at a time.

“He’s so…” Rosie pushed her palm to the window. “Perfect.”

When he reached the top step, he glanced toward the guesthouse and all at once, we ducked and barrel-rolled away from the window.

“Shit!”

“Oh god! Do you think he saw us staring at him?” Molly said, covering her eyes.

I crawled back toward the window and pushed myself up on my knees just enough to peek over the windowsill. Erik was still staring back at the guesthouse, but his attention wasn’t on the first floor. He was focused on the second story, on my bedroom window. He propped his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. Tingles spread through my body as I continued to spy on him. He looked nearly angelic, encased in the light from the setting sun. His tan skin glowed and the muscles on his back rippled when he shook his head and turned for the door, whipping the screen door open with a touch too much force. I fought the urge to run out and stop him, to exchange every remaining dollar in my bank account to know what he’d just been thinking, if his thoughts had possibly centered on me.

“Brie! Did he see us?”

I sighed and slumped down to the floor. “No. We’re safe.”





The next day, before practice, I carried my pre-wrap and tape over to the vault and hopped up to sit on the edge. My right leg dangled off the side and I bent my left leg, bringing my foot close enough so I could twist the pre-wrap around my ankle. I’d sprained it a few years back and it rarely bothered me these days, but I liked to take extra precautions this close to a big competition.

My earbuds were in, my pre-workout playlist blaring at nearly full volume. After a few days in the house with the team, I needed a few minutes of peace and quiet, just me and my music. I hit play on the next song and then nearly jumped out of my skin as a large hand hit my lower back.

“Here, let me do it,” Erik said.

My body’s reaction to him was swift and all consuming. Tingles spread through my fingers, my stomach plummeted, and my breath came short.

I pulled the earbuds out of my ears and glanced up in time to watch him circle the back of the vault and come to stand in front of me. He was wearing a black t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest and shoulders. Thanks to our first encounter and the reminder I’d gotten the day before, I knew exactly what he was hiding beneath the thin cotton, and though I hated to admit it, I’d spent another night dreaming of that chest.

He held his hand out for the pre-wrap, assuming I’d just give in to his demand.

“I’ve got it, I’m pretty good at it,” I insisted, clutching the roll.

He smirked and worked the roll out of my hand. “I’m better.”

I shook my head and laughed. His confidence—no, arrogance—really knew no bounds.

“Or so you think.”

I saw his brow arch with amusement just before he stepped closer to the vault. His height made it so his hips were level with mine and with my knee bent, he was nearly standing between my legs. I inhaled a shaky breath. I should have scooted farther back against the vault, put a little distance between us, but I wasn’t going to be the first to retreat.