Page 22 of Red Hot Rancher

And there it was. The reason she’d thrown a small shit fit when Oliver had insisted on moving back. She stared at herself in the mirror, at the boobs she had a hard time containing. Now that she’d gained some weight, they threatened to spill out of her bra. How could she be a damn adult and still be plagued by childhood insecurities?

Maisy May Jorgenson and her incessant need to point out that Brigit’s sports bra got an F in containment. Or Maisy’s best friend, Priya Patel, quietly whispering in Brigit’s ear that her gym shorts rode up when she bent over. Priya had acted like what she’d done was in Brigit’s best interest, but from the smug look on Maisy’s face, that was doubtful.

Brigit sneered and flipped the lever to the shower with more force than she intended. Water burst on, splashing over the tub ledge onto the fluffy charcoal gray bathmat and beyond.

Dammit, she’d have to clean that up. But for now, she had to scrub the grit off and hope her memories went down the drain with it. She freed her hair and stepped under the spray, shivering until it warmed.

High school for a girl with growth spurts like hers hadn’t been fun. Those tight gym shorts? They’d been long and loose when school let out her sophomore year. Over the next summer, Brigit had grown three inches and developed curves that had made her seem wider and taller than everyone else. The adult part of her saw her classmates’ behavior for what it was. Jealousy. Insecurity. Intimidation. Mean-girl tactics used to make themselves feel better.

Junior year, Brigit hadn’t lacked for homecoming dates, and for prom that year, she’d even gone with Maisy’s brother, who had been a senior. That’d been out of spite. And because Mom had refused to allow her to go with Caleb.

But I’d be more comfortable going with a friend. Though, she hadn’t been eying Caleb with a friend’s eyes. By then, he’d done his own growing, getting taller than her and developing those muscles. Those muscles. Their work today and through the night wasn’t sexy, but it’d been with him. All day. All that bending and flexing, and that ass…

All chill fled as she remembered Caleb’s sure movements. She’d only seen adult him in a shirt and pants, but—

Enough. No thoughts of shirtless Caleb Cruise while she showered.

She rinsed and flipped the water off. Stepping out, she grabbed a towel and dried off while staring at the door. All she had were dirty clothes. She couldn’t hear footsteps or any other sound to indicate Caleb had finished his shower, though he had to be done by now.

The towel wrapped far enough around her to be secure. It’d be nice if Justin bought a color other than pewter gray, but there was no one around to see how ashen it made her look. She brushed out her hair and bypassed the noisy hair dryer. She’d take care of that in her room.

She whipped open the door and pulled up short. The water on the floor. Spinning, she yanked the hand towel off the ring by the light switch and carefully bent to mop up the water.

Lobbing the hand towel toward the laundry bin, she turned. Her breath caught.

Whatever she’d thought about a shirtless Caleb didn’t come close to the real thing.

He was stopped in the hallway, like he’d seen her crouched in nothing but a towel and gotten glued to the spot. A matching gray towel was slung low over his waist, the rest of his lean body bare.

And wow.

Defined pecs. Rippling abs she wanted to gaze at as much as she wanted to trace with her tongue. There was nothing relaxed about him. This wasn’t the usual Caleb.

Because they were both wearing only a towel. Her gaze flew to his face, but his was stuck on the flare of her hips. His jaw tightened until she thought he’d bust teeth. He finally noticed her looking at him.

“Fuck, sorry.” He stiffly turned his head, like he’d defaulted to robot mode.

“Yeah.” She wasn’t sorry. There wasn’t any more chance she and Caleb would work than there had been ten years ago. Might as well torture herself with what she was missing. That view was worth it.

She took a step, her heel hitting a patch that hadn’t completely dried, which had turned into an ice rink for the unwary. The skid of her foot on the ceramic tile was louder than her startled cry. Her biggest worry wasn’t that she’d hurt herself. It was that she’d crash to the ground and lose her towel, or land with her legs splayed in the unsexiest peep show to ever hit Moore, Minnesota.

Her other foot hit with a thud and she caught herself. The pounding of her heart clogged her throat and she put a hand to her chest.

Caleb was at her side, a sexy safety net she would’ve gratefully fallen into. “Are you all right?” His hot hand was on her elbow. He was only inches away from her.

“You move fast.” She blinked and tried to lift her gaze to his face, but it was glued to the way his muscles flowed from his shoulders to his chest.

He dropped his voice. “Not when it counts, honey.”

He’d meant it as a joke, she knew that. But the timbre of his drawl and the proximity of his nearly naked body belied the humor. She couldn’t get past her raw need. How did the adult Caleb feel? Would he still like when she nibbled along his jawline to his earlobe? Would he groan every time she stroked his length?

She swallowed hard. Somehow, he’d crowded closer. Or had she drawn nearer?

Who cared?

“Bridge.” His voice matched the raging hormones inside of hers, the ones demanding answers to her questions.

She lifted her chin and kissed the corner of his mouth and pulled back only slightly. “Caleb.”

---