Page 31 of My Secret to Protect

‘You’re not forty yet.’ Smiling, she picks up a waffle, tearing a piece off and stuffing it into her mouth. ‘Why did you bring me out here?’ she says around the waffle, and I smirk, loving that she’s not putting on a show with me—she’s the same old Bree.

‘I don’t know. I guess I just felt nostalgic for the old days.’ I wait for her to raise her caramel eyes to mine, but she lowers them back to the food.

‘It was a long time ago, Arlo.’

‘It was,’ I admit.

‘Are we ever going to talk about it?’ She glances up at me hopefully, but I can’t get into that conversation with her. She takes another bite as I inhale and exhale deeply and reach out to snag a waffle myself.

‘I don’t think either of us has the energy for that conversation right now.’

I want to fight with her. I want to scream at her that she knows exactly what she did. I want to hear her apologies and excuses, but I can’t. She doesn’t have the energy for me to be an asshole, so I won’t be one… that conversation has waited for twenty years. It can keep waiting.

You Ain’t Thirty-Seven Yet, Short Stuff

Bree

Stretchingout,Igroanas my eyes try to stay closed. Slowly, the warmth of the sun and the sounds of nature seep into my consciousness, and I peel my eyes open to confirm where I am. And good fucking lord.

I’m on the blanket, lying on my side, and the first thing my eyes land on is the very naked, very broad, very tattooed back of Arlo Harper, waist-deep in the river.

I fell asleep, and he just let me sleep, then apparently, he decided to swim. The urge to tear off my clothes and go to him is strong, but I force myself to stay. I do not need to be getting my panties wet for this man, not in any way… although, I think that battle is already lost.

Arlo dips down, dropping his shoulders under the cool water, then his head, and I watch as he surfaces again and pushes the water out of his hair. As he starts to turn, I snap my eyes closed again, pretending I’m still asleep to mask the blatant ogling.

‘You can keep looking. I don’t mind.’ Fuck, how did he… ‘I’ll always know when your eyes are on me, Bree.’

So, fuck it. I push myself up to sitting, stretching out my legs and leaning back on my arms, and I watch as the water level drops, revealing more of his large body with each step he takes. I try to school my features, not show that he still affects me, but damn does he affect me. The man is gorgeous.

He must work out. He’s not all ripped and solid like Doug, Leo, or Nick, but he’s huge and muscular, so unless he lives on spinach—and I saw the way he ate the waffles this morning, so I know that isn’t the case—then he must work out to stay in shape. I’m about to let my mind wander to an image of hitting the gym with him when the water level drops below his gray boxers, and fuck, fuck,fuck…

My eyes are fixed on the outline of his dick.Jesus,Bree, look away. I should look away, but as he walks slowly toward me, I cannot seem to tear my attention any higher.

‘And that’s before it’s hard.’

Arlo’s words and the way he chuckles as he passes me snap me out of my daze, and I groan as I cover my face with my hands.

I turn slightly to see him pulling off the boxers, and I—admittedly, reluctantly, after a peek of a little ass—look away.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Getting dressed, what’s it look like?’

‘It looked like the opposite of getting dressed.’

‘I don’t want to put my jeans on over wet boxers, short stuff,’okay, fair,‘so you’ll have to deal with knowing I’m free balling for the rest of the morning.’

He sits next to me on the blanket and nudges my shoulder.

‘How long was I asleep?’ I ask, and he lifts his arm to look at his watch.

‘About an hour.'

Smiling softly, I flop back to the blanket and let my attention come to the expanse of tattoos on his back.

‘You have a lot more ink these days,’ I muse, and he nods but doesn’t turn around to look at me.

‘Yeah, well, it’s been a lot of years.’

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