No Perfect Hero(32)
“Damn it, Mozart. That you again?”
A loud, frayed meow answers back. When he speaks up, there's no mistaking the high-pitched, deafening music that's his namesake.
He's a big Tom, a stray Grandma's been feeding since winter. I've taken to the habit, too, seeing how he started hanging around this cabin more ever since I came back.
He calls at me again, his orange tail swishing in the darkness.
“No vittles tonight. I'm trying to relax. Go on, git!' I sink back in the tub, slapping the water as I hear him dart away.
I'm rewarded by a few minutes of peaceful bliss. Finally.
I halfway drift off with my eyes open, watching how the Milky Way explodes across the night out here. That's one of my favorite parts of Heart's Edge, hardly any lights to drown out the sky.
I'm so focused I don’t hear Haley come home. Or even realize she’s here until the creak of the back door opening snaps me out of a waking dream.
She steps out, her head bowed as she folds a towel over her arms. Then I see what she's wearing – or not wearing – and my jaw nearly makes a splash.
Hay's all slim and pretty with that tight, curvy body nearly naked in a pale teal bikini. One with the kind of little ribbons that tie over the hips and make you want to pull 'em loose with your goddamn teeth, licking your way down paths of bare flesh with every slip of fabric falling away.
There’s another one tying the top closed over her tits, a little bow between, and all that soft suntanned flesh straining against little stretchy triangles of fabric that can’t quite hold them in.
Fuck.
I don’t know what’s worse.
Seeing Hay like this...or the fact that I’m fucking buff underneath the swirling, barely-concealing froth of hot tub bubbles. I’ve suddenly got a lot to hide.
I grunt as I shift to adjust myself, hoping a little pressure will coax my surging cock to sit the fuck back down.
The sound makes her jerk, sucking in a breath, looking up just in time for me to look away before I get caught staring.
There’s a moment of silence. Then a low, “Oh.”
Just that oh and nothing else. I think it’d be easier if it was disgusted or angry, annoyed that I’m in the place she wants to be.
There’s no way we can both relax in this hot tub together, not when the moment we’re in each other’s presence, the air crackles with a sizzling, wild tension that seems to turn the night into a silent storm. After a few laden seconds of silence, her quiet footsteps pad closer, soft against the wood of the deck. Then there’s a low splash, and I risk a glance from the corner of my eye.
She’s sitting on the edge of the hot tub, her legs dangling in the water, her hands braced to either side of her naked thighs while she swirls her feet in the bubbles. Her vivid green eyes watch me idly, turning into glowing stars by the reflections of the lights under the water.
Her gaze is curious, thoughtful, and very obviously staying above the water’s surface, her cheeks a touch pink.
“Rough night?” she asks softly.
It feels like a white flag. A truce. Like she’s saying I come in peace, let’s not trade shots right now.
“Should be asking you that, feels like,” I venture. “Haven’t seen Brody’s that busy in a good long while.”
“So that wasn’t normal? Thank God. My feet are killing me.” She laughs, kicking said feet a little in the water, splashing me gently.
“Bad first night?”
“Not bad. Just been a long time since I was a waitress, and last time, I was at least on wheels.”
I blink, tilting my head. “Wheels?”
“Sonic.” She grins. “You know, the cute little waitresses that spin around on roller skates in tiny shorts and Sonic hats? That was me in college. Had to pay for textbooks somehow.”
There's another image I don't need.
I’m trying like hell not to picture her gliding around a parking lot in shorts almost as tiny as that tempting bikini bottom, and I distract myself from thinking about it by reaching into the ice bucket and fishing out a fresh beer.
“Here,” I say, nicking the cap off with the edge of the bucket and then offering her the bottle. “You earned it.”
Grinning, she takes the bottle and raises it in a salute. “Damn right. I didn’t bite anyone the entire night.”
I snort back a laugh and swig my own beer. “Didn’t think that was part of the job description.”
“It should be.” She rolls her eyes. “Employee-customer relations sub-clause 12A: any college boy who calls me ‘sugar tits’ gets bitten. Then I dump his beer in his lap.”
“Not sure the kids these days say ‘sugar tits.’”
“They do when they’re drunk and messing around with their frat brothers. Ask me how I know.” With a sigh, Hay slips down, easing herself into the water with a low, sensuous groan that makes goosebumps stand up on my skin.
Her lithe movement reminds me very pointedly of the throb in my cock I’m trying to ignore.
Settling on the seat opposite me, the water bubbling up around her shoulders, she leans her head back against the edge of the hot tub and taps her beer bottle against her lips.
“That bad, huh? Shit. I'm sorry Grandma sent you in there without waders.”
“It's not all bad. Good tips. Should make you happy. The more money I make shaking my ass for minimum wage and a few little gratuities, the faster I can get out of your precious town.”