Page 38 of Gorgeous

I’ll admit, I had my doubts any of them could do it, but when they asked me to count down, I knew they were serious and my panties were headed for the hamper early. It wasn’t the confidence and hilarious taunts they threw back and forth at each other while they were ground level, holding half of their chiseled bodies up with one arm. Or even the way their forearms strained under the evening sky.

Nope. It was none of those things.

Don’t get me wrong, those were a bonus, but the real show was Connor Hayes. This ham laid down in front of me, blowing on the kindling he had gathered, describing in great detail how starting fires was like warming up a woman.

“Firm strokes,” he crooned, rubbing the two twigs together, one vertical, the other horizontal. “And when she is burning up…” He flashes those cerulean eyes to mine and lightly blows at the center of the joined sticks. “You give the core what it needs to explode.” I couldn’t even answer the son of a bitch when he licked his lips, my throat and clit throbbing as I watched him hollow out his cheeks, blowing ever so lightly until the wood (and my temperature) went up in flames.

“You alright, darlin? You look a little warm.”

You will not wipe your forehead. You will sit on this log, get one good look at this devil of a man, and then you will never think of it again.

The corners of my lip tip up into something resembling smug. “You lost,” I declare, hiding behind my smile, praying no drool pools at the corners, stealing the effect.

Hayes tilts his head to the side, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes narrowed.

“Come again?”

I glance back at the other three guys huddled around the giant campfire, their grins egging me on. “I said… you lost. While you were being the fire whisperer, the guys had their fire roaring and even got the s’mores from the house.”

Lips that no man should ever have fall into the cutest pout I’ve ever seen. I push up from the log and pull Hayes behind me, toward the guys. “Come on,darlin. I’ll make you a s’more to cheer you up.”

Hayes snorts out the laugh he was holding and pulls me close to him in a bear hug. “I think you’re picking up bad habits living with us.” My eyes narrow, trying to figure out just what he means by his statement, when he chuckles. “All I’m saying, B, is that a week ago youwould’ve sat all wide-eyed and quiet.” He shakes me when I throw him a you’re-getting-a-laxative-in-your-breakfast-smoothie-tomorrow look. “Now you give just as good as you receive.”

Is it possible to feel like you just got voted prom queen at twenty-three?

Hayes kisses the top of my head and fields the jabs from the other guys. Midnight falls over the world, but in the glow of the flame, I gaze out to the four Marines laughing and tossing marshmallows to each other.

It starts in my feet. Bubbling and tingling, the sensation travels up my thighs, across my six-pack abs—fine—my zero-pack abs, swirling and digesting until it settles in my chest.

One week is allit took for me to fall in love.

One week to figure out what my brother used to rave about.

One week to find a home.

“Okay, Okay. B, give us your best pick-up line.”

The guys and I are several beers in and the conversation has only taken a turn for the worse. Mason insisted that I drink with them, and who am I to turn down a man with eyes the color of gold that melt the bra right off you? Yeah, I took the damn beer, and the subsequent three.

I wave off Hayes’ asinine request. “No. Women don’t need pick-up lines. We have vaginas.”

Vic smothers a noise in the neck of his beer. “Not the kind Hayes takes home,” he mumbles, intending on insulting Hayes, but Hayes gives Mason a high five. He’s the opposite of insulted.

I hold my breath to keep from laughing at the two idiots and nod to Tim who’s been the quietest of the bunch. “How about you, Tim? Show me how you woo a woman.”

The group goes scary silent and I worry I made a colossal mistake. I know Tim has issues with speaking, but that doesn’t mean he can’t participate. But again, I don’t know. I’m the new kid. This could be a total no-no.

“I mean, if you want. You don’t have to,” I clarify before it gets any more awkward.

You can literally only hear the crickets and the crackling of the fire.

Mason breaks first, clearing his throat. I bet he’s going to tell me I’m not allowed in their circle anymore and to go back to the house. “I—”

Tim stands, handing over his beer with a smile. Shocked as hell, I blink several times, hoping that I didn’t upset him or embarrass him by asking him to fake hit on me when he has such a hard time communicating.

Tim claps Mason on the back and heads toward my chair with a wicked smirk that tells me I have no idea what I’ve just done. He stops in front of me, his deep brown eyes sparkling under the firelight. “Fuck me, huh?” I joke, this ridiculous laugh tagging onto the last of my sentence like a schoolgirl.

A twitch of a grin attempts to bust through Tim’s façade, but he holds it back, squatting down in front of me, his earthy smell of firewood and soap washing all over me. Hands the size of plates lock down on my knees. Breathing seems like a bad idea at the moment.

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