Page 33 of Make Her Mine

The guys work for about five minutes, putting more pieces together. When his panel is screwed into place and he can let go, Jefferson straightens.

Then he whips off his shirt and tosses it in my direction.

On instinct, I reach out and catch it.

He sends me a smirk, but I don’t even have time to work up a frown before he’s turning back to the job at hand.

Which is just as well. I do not want him to catch me studying all that bare skin, those muscles, and the ink on his left shoulder.

He’s an athlete. It’s been a few years since he played football, but he still works out with the team. He’s lean but his arm, shoulder, and back muscles are chiseled with tan skin stretched over all of those firm ridges. His hands suddenly look bigger, and his forearms ripple as he works.

And I don’t stop there. I follow the taper of his back to his waist and then his hips down to his firm ass in the worn blue jeans he’s got on, and over his muscular thighs.

I’ve seen him without a shirt many times. Swimming, working around his house, working out at school. I’ve seen the tattoo before too, though he adds to it periodically. It covers his left shoulder blade then wraps over his shoulder and down his upper bicep. I know it’s a combination of symbols including a tree, his football number from high school, the M from his college logo, some other numbers, and a swirling design I think just fills in the spaces. But I’ve never asked.

“You are doing a really good job of seeming into him.”

I turn and look at Margot, who somehow sidled up next to me.

I sigh. “Shut up.”

She laughs. I now notice my sister crossing the square toward us as well.

“I don’t need to like him to recognize and admit that he’s good looking,” I say. “It’s an objective fact that Jefferson is hot. Lots of women think so.”

That I am aware of, even if I don’t know who he has dated and how they feel about him post-break-up. Or what they’ve said about what it was like to be with him.

Margot crosses her arms and juts one hip to the side as she studies the men in front of us. “He’s not the only hot guy here.”

“No. He’s not.”

She leans in and lifts her hand and covers my eyes.

“Hey,” I protest.

“What color shirt does David have on?”

I think for a second, but I barely noticed that Tucker’s son was there. I puff out a breath. “All right. Point taken.”

Laughing, she drops her hand. I look over and note that David is also not wearing a shirt. But no, I hadn’t noticed that before.

Mia has joined us by now.

“I take it that you and Jefferson decided to do the fake dating thing after all?” Margot asks.

“Yes, we were on our way to tell all of you.”

“What changed since last night?” Margot asks.

“Ran into Zach.” I sigh. “He got to me and I caved.”

Margot frowns. “Well, I say make that fucker sorry. I’m all for this plan.”

“Yeah. Strangely, it seems everyone is,” I say, watching my sister nod her head.

“It’s not really that strange,” Mia says. “If you weren’t fighting over Graham all the time, you might’ve actually dated in real life.”

Nope. We fought over Graham for sure. That’s how the antagonism started. But it was just the beginning of learning how differently Jefferson and I see things. Big things. Life, family, relationships. We would have never fit. Not long-term anyway.

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