Page 95 of Dream Chaser
Still damp, like he ran product through it fast, let it air dry, and somehow made “not trying” look like foreplay.
He moves like the whole world’s on mute except for whatever beat’s playing in his head. Relaxed shoulders. Easy stride. Total command of the space, and he hasn’t even stepped foot inside.
Mags glances at me then back at him. “That man walks like a sin.”
And I swear I’m never going to confess to anyone he’s committed against me.
The passenger door opens, and Oz Hunt slides out as Skinner pops the hatch and pulls out a giant box that says “Blackstone” on it. He brought a grill?
Oz opens the back passenger door and pulls out bags, handing them to the boys, and then goes to help Skinner carry the massive box.
“Where are we going with this?” he asks Lo.
“Up here!” Mags waves her hands. “We’re up here.”
“Mags, there’s nothing up here!”
“There’s about to be.” She laughs as she heads to the stairs and disappears.
Me? I stay right here and groan.
Chapter 20
Grilled
Griffon
The second I step out onto the rooftop, I see Iz. She’s wearing a damn Carhart and even that looks hella good on her.
I don’t look long, not after the shitshow at her parents, so I survey the space.
Mags is beside me, arms folded, her wind-blown curls whipping around like she lives in a shampoo commercial. “So?” she asks, smirking up at me.
I do a slow circle, taking it in. “Not quite dinner-party-ready yet,” I admit, eyeing the snow-dusted pavers and the short railing that barely screams safety. “But it’s got potential. Big potential.”
Mags shrugs. “We’ll get there.”
I can already see it in my head, a rooftop hot tub bubbling in that corner, an outdoor kitchen tucked near the wall, with a long counter, a smoker, and a wood-fired pizza oven. Big pots filled with herbs from the Ross greenhouse, planters growingvertically against the brick wall—tomatoes, peppers, fresh greens, all the things you need to make salsa. String lights zigzag between tall posts, flicking on automatically as the sun goes down. A mounted outdoor TV to catch summer baseball games, and a table long enough to feed the entire damn town.
“It’s going to be amazing, right?” Mags asks, nudging my arm.
“Oh yeah,” I say, grinning. “Give you girls a hammer and six weekends, it’ll be the best rooftop in Blue Valley.” I lift my chin to Iz. “Happy housewarming, Izzy Ross. We all bought you a grill. Where do you want it?”
“Thanks. Um?” She looks over the side of the building, and although I know she’s safe, smart, capable, my heartbeat kicks up a bit. I tell myself it’s the black pants hugging that ass and not that I am still digging this whole burying myself even deeper.
“Hey, this is my place, too.” Mags elbows me.
“Not till after that damn show.” I chuckle. “I’m sure they’ll have another for you when you come home whole and with a glittery winner’s sash.” I glance back at Iz. “So, where do you want me to put it?”
“Probably the carriage house until it has a home up here.”
“Good idea, but I mean, where can I set up to cook the crab legs and steaks?”
“You’re cooking?” Mags and Iz ask at the same time.
“You’re looking at the grill master.” I head toward the stairs, happy she’s not pissed, or at least that she’s pretending she isn’t. “Let’s roll.”
We end up putting the grill together and set up near the open carriage house. The guys are outside and the girls all inside, making this feel like a middle school dance.
