Page 38 of How You See Me
“Josie." He drops the makeshift weapon into the sink and takes hold of my arms.
I zero in on the warmth of his hands on my skin and the sparks now zipping through me. The intensity of that one simple touch dulls everything else.
Reveling in it, my gaze slowly travels from his rippled torso up to his face. He’s concerned. Concerned forme.
Even if it’s coming from a sense of duty, a promise he made to Jordan, it still counts.
“I didn't see anything.”
His hands fall away as he steps back, the distance feeling colder than the night.
“Good. I need to brush my teeth, then we’ll head back,” he says, voice edged with exhaustion.
“Me, too.” Yes. There is no need to rush this. If this became our nightly routine for the next week, I wouldn’t complain. Seeing him bare and looking too good to be trueovershadows the negatives—dingy, scary public restroom and all.
We walk back in our default awkward silence, and surprisingly, Hayes breaks it first, opening the side door of the van for me.
“If you need anything, just wake me up.”
I hesitate.
“Can we argue about who deserves the mattress tomorrow?” His eyes close briefly as he takes a calming breath, surely praying for my compliance to speed up the process. “Please?”
“Sure.” I step inside and kneel by the door. “But the matter is not settled.”
“It is on my end. Good night, Josie.” He closes the door gently behind me and climbs into the passenger seat.
“You know I can still talk to you. There’s no wall separating us.”
“I’m pretending there is. And you should too.”
“Why? Tired of listening to me?”
“Only because I’ve lost . . .” He lifts his wrist, checking his watch. “Four hours of sleep.”
“You’re the one who wanted to drive this far in one night.”
“Lesson learned.” With his arms crossed, his voice trails off, replaced by long, heavy breaths.
I wish I could fall asleep that fast. After our little bathroom escapade, I’m still buzzing. My mind will be reeling with visions of Hayes in nothing but thin shorts fora long while. I may have sworn off men, but no one said I couldn’t appreciate their gorgeous anatomy.
Isn’t that why they work out so hard? Sure, his job requires him to stay in shape but not like that. When a man takes extra time to sculpt his body into an unforgettable work of art, he does it to be admired.
And I plan on admiring him every chance I get.
???
At some point, sleep must have claimed me. I awaken curled around my sketchpad, its sharp corner digging into my ribs. I try to push it off the bed, but it doesn’t budge.
My eyes fly open. The pad pressed against a wall, and it all comes back to me. I’m not in my apartment bedroom butan adorable, antique van in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee with the hunky Marine I dreamed about last night. Yet, he’s not a dream—other than looking like one—and he’s outside.
The scent of bacon pulls me fully aware, and I peer out the window. Hayes sits by the fire, cooking on a cast iron skillet over a campfire as if it were a normal, everyday thing.
A baseball cap sits backwards on his head, and the worn fabric of his gray T-shirt stretches tight across his shoulders. The same gorgeous anatomy I got a close-up view of mere hours ago. If I could, I’d order another glance and the accompanying dopamine shot for breakfast.
Sliding open the door, I realize I’d forgotten to at least check to make sure a nipple wasn’t hanging out of my pajama top. The oversight comes to mind when Hayes’ eyesjourney from my face to the rest of me before quickly diverting his attention. Guess there’s no sense in confirming it now. Everyone gets the authentic me, including Hayes. Headlights and all.
I lower to the lawn chair next to him, tying my wild morning hair up into a ponytail.
