Page 8 of A Way Out
“I get it,” he said. “Come on in.” He led them up the steps to the house. “I assume you’ve been here before?”
Maria nodded. “I was here when Holly and Sam got engaged. They threw a New Year’s Eve party, and Sam popped the question right after midnight. It was so romantic.”
Ho boy, did she ever sound wistful. He bit back the urge to assure her that there were plenty of romantic guys out there in the world, and once she was over whatever the hell was going on with her current situation, she’d find one of her own.
Was it weird that he suddenly wished he were more romantic?
Yeah, it was totally weird.
Chapter Three
Holly’s house sitter was hot. It did not escape Maria’s notice that this was the first time she’d noticed a guy in this way since… God, college, maybe?
The guys she’d chosen to date in high school had been curated, selected as a means to attempt to win her mother’s approval. She’d spent her life until this last year trying (unsuccessfully) to please her mother.
College had opened up her options somewhat. Mom wasn’t there to judge, so Maria actually tried to date men outside her norm. But it hadn’t been comfortable.
Vic had been comfortable. Dating Vic had felt like living the exact life she’d grown up in. While he was a good-looking guy, that hadn’t really come into play when they met. Instead, she’d thought, my mother would finally approve of this one.
Watching Oz as he led her and Riley up the front steps of Holly’s house, Maria did not even think about her mother’s approval. She admired his thick, dark hair, gelled to stand up all over his head. Chocolaty brown eyes framed by thick lashes. Full lips with a thin silver hoop. The man wore earrings and a lip ring, and she wasn’t running the other way.
Her mother would be so-o-o-o appalled.
He had a heavy brow and a thick coating of scruff on his face. His skin was bronze—and not tanning bed bronze. She’d bet it was his natural skin tone.
Her gaze trailed down the back of his basic white T-shirt and landed on a firm, rounded butt. The kind that should be on those charity firefighter calendars that always popped up for sale on Facebook during the holidays.
Maria could say with all honesty that she’d never been a butt girl before—which sounded dirtier in her own head than she even meant it to be—so it was taking her by surprise how attractive she found this man’s backside.
Oh, and his legs, too. All muscle and sinew. He was utterly gorgeous. She’d been around attractive men plenty of times in her life and never had such a visceral reaction before.
She felt a tug on her hand and managed to tear her gaze away to look down at her daughter, who was trying to pull her toward the house. Apparently, Maria had stopped at some point so she could simply admire Oz as he walked.
Well.
Giving herself a mental shake, she smiled at Riley and allowed herself to be led into the house behind Oz, who very politely held the door open for them.
“Thank you,” she said demurely. She wanted to know more about him. What did he do for a living? How did her sister know him? He said he’d been invited to the wedding, and as Holly and Sam were throwing a very intimate, secret wedding, that meant Oz had to be part of their inner circle.
He wasn’t part of Panic Station. Maria had met all of them at her grandmother’s funeral last year, and this guy had definitely not been there.
Was he in a different band? Or tied to the recording industry in some other way?
How intriguing.
Voices assaulted her ears. It sounded like several someones were arguing.
“—said to stay out of the pool, Daniel!”
“It’s hot. I know how to swim. I’m getting back in.”
“You’re gonna get in trouble.”
“Son of a—” Oz threw her a guilty look. “Sorry. Give me a sec. I’ll be right back.”
He hurried down the staircase, presumably to the patio she could see through the wall of windows directly in front of her.
Too curious to resist, Maria scooped Riley into her arms and followed. They entered a huge living area with a wall of windows leading out onto a patio, where a tempting pool filled with perfect aqua-colored water sat.
