Page 44 of When Love Gives You Lemons
The freckles dancing across his large pecs used to remind me of the Big Dipper, and I trace them now in my mind. It’s like finding my North Star again after living in the dark for a year.
A gold chain hangs around his neck with a circular pendant that looks almost like a ring, but I can’t make it out because it’s too dark. He moves so quickly to cover his junk that he inadvertently covers the pendant, too.
“Sorry—I didn’t mean to—” I turn to leave.
“It’s okay!” he calls out, moving again, but he nearly trips because his pants pool at his ankles. He laughs. “I mean, you’ve seen me a lot more naked than this.”
Sure have.
I laugh nervously and say the honorable thing. “Was looking for Topher.”
“Across the hall.”
“Right.” I don’t know what to do now. There’s so much tension between us, and it makes me want to cry or scream or create a diversion so I can duck out and run.
I turn towalkaway, when Ricky says, “Hey, Fielder. Thanks. For Cam. That was . . . really very sweet. You didn’t have to.”
“Of course. My pleasure.”
Why is thissoawkward?
He nods and clears his throat. “What do you think about this look? Sienna picked it out for me for the ceremony, and I’m not sure about it.”
“Why don’t you ask Cam?”
“He took a walk into town to grab a water while he waits his turn, so—”
“You’re stuck with me?”
“I wouldn’t put itthatway.” He’s wrestling to put on his clothes. “I always valued your opinion more than anyone’s.”
A burst of warmth blooms in my chest.
I turn back around, and the pants that were around his ankles are buttoned around his waist. His arms are loose at his sides.
Don’t stare, Fielder. Keep it aboveboard.
My head is fuzzy as he smirks, puts his hands on his hips, his arms like arrows pointing toward—
My phone buzzes again, and it snaps me back. I try to speak, but my voice is suddenly gone. “What, uh, do you want me to see?”
“Ah.” Ricky turns around to grab a shirt on a hanger, and there’s his butt.
Good lord, help me.I’m weak.
“I love my sister, but I’m just not sure about these gold shirts. Sienna wanted me, you, and Matty to be distinctive, but.” He shakes his head and sighs.
“Gold shirts?” I hadn’t noticed anything in my own fitting room earlier.
Ricky’s broad back distracts me, the way his muscles move as he fumbles with the hanger. The entire room could be covered in gold leaf, and I wouldn’t notice.
Whipping the collarless Italian linen button-down around like a cape, he threads his arms through the sleeves, fluidly, effortlessly. He fluffs the front before buttoning it up. I study his reflection in the mirror in front of him. Furrowed brows. Thickthumbs fumble with small buttons. He looks up and into the mirror and runs his hands through his hair before turning back around and facing me.
He looks like a Roman god. “Thoughts?”
“Huh?”
“Gold shirt,” he reminds me.
