Page 46 of Under One Roof

“I want to. It’ll be fun.” I glance at the massive tub filled with ice water, shivering at the sight.

Jake snorts. “Fun isn’t the word I’d use, but okay.”

Griffin looks me over. “You can’t do it in that.”

That, meaning my cute flare denim with the star patch I sewed on myself to cover a hole because these jeans are my favorite, and I’ll wear them out until they disintegrate off me. He takes my hand. “I have something you can wear.”

He leads me to another room with lockers and opens the one with his last name on it to dig through a bag full of what I suppose are extra clothes, because he pulls out a T-shirt and shorts. Then he points me to a bathroom where I change out of my clothes and into his. I have to roll the elastic waistband so many times the shorts barely poke out from under the bottom hem of his shirt that hangs on me like a nightgown.

When I emerge, Griffin is waiting for me, stripped down to only a pair of shorts that leave little to the imagination. I swallow hard, trying not to stare at the expanse of tanned skin, the ripple of muscles, and curving tattoos. I’ve seen him without a shirt before, but still… I can’t stop staring. At the breadth of his shoulders, the tiger inked on his pec so big it encompasses the whole thing, and I’ve never been especially drawn to men’s nipples before, but I have the sudden urge to lick Griffin’s, trace them with my tongue, and then become very acquainted with the tiger. Farther down, a thin line of dark hair disappears under the waistband of his shorts. He’s all hard lines and raw power, and even has those indented muscles at his hips. I know he’s athletic and has to train hard for his job, but my god.

It’s not until he coughs that I blink back into reality. A flirtatious scowl slants his mouth, and my skin heats in some embarrassment but mostly desire. “Sorry.”

His eyebrow ticks up. “Are you?”

“Not one bit.”

He rakes his gaze in appraisal over me, like I did him, and even from where I stand a yard away, I can see how his pupils dilate. With a stiff shake of his head, he refocuses and places my clothes in his locker then takes my hand to lead me to the front of the garage, where we wait a minute for our turn. Marybeth writes the last team’s time on the board, one minute and seven seconds, and Griffin mumbles his disapproval. “That’s nothing.”

I laugh, a little too loudly. “A minute is a long time in zero-degree water.”

He pushes me closer to the tub so I can see the thermometer. “Fifty-three degrees.”

“Oh.” I laugh in absolute terror. “Fifty-three degrees.” Fifty-three sounds fine…for a fall day with a cute knit hat and scarf. Not water with ice and barely any clothes.

“You can handle it,” he tells me with a confidence I don’t feel.

Marybeth calls us over and asks my name so she can introduce me and Griffin. Shouts and applause go up because Captain Stone is evidently very popular with his coworkers.

“You ready?” he asks with a low voice, and I shake my head but place my hand in his and step into the tub with him, gasping at the cold.

Marybeth counts down from three, and Griffin taps on his watch, starting a timer before sitting down in the water. I follow and inhale so fast and hard that my lungs burn.

“You’re good,” he says from behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, pulling my back against his chest. He presses his cheek to my ear, his mouth by my temple. “You’re good, Andi.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” I grip his forearms, my nails digging into them. I don’t mean to, but my body is in fight mode, and I can’t relax my fingers from their contracted position.

“Breathe. Come on, breathe.” He inhales and exhales slowly, his chest rising and falling, his warm breath rushing past my mouth. “Try to relax into it.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. Do it with me.” He inhales and exhales purposefully, so I join him. “Good girl. Keep it up.”

The crowd around us is a blur of noise and color, cheering and shouting about our time. But all I can concentrate on is Griffin’s voice, how he envelops me with his arms. “Attagirl. You’re doing so good.”

“Griffin,” I groan, and he tilts his face so his mouth is right against my ear.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I am never doing this again.”

He laughs. Actually laughs!

I’m not sure how because my organs are shutting down, but he seems to be enjoying himself.

“I’m going to kill you,” I threaten weakly, and I feel more than hear his hum.

“Yeah? Think you already did, seeing you in my shirt and shorts. Reminded me of the day we met.”

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