Page 42 of Hard to Love
Greer squeezed her fingers. “Shush.”
“Young lady, did you just shush me?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want him to hear or see us.”
“Why in the world would you…” Raylene eased a couple of inches toward the window. Her mouth opened, her jaw worked, but no sound came out.
This was wrong. Alex would have a shit fit if he knew they were spying on him like a couple of giddy twelve-year-old girls. Greer pulled Raylene back. “I’ve changed my mind. We need to stop. He wouldn’t like us looking at him.”
“Ho…ho…holy molasses.”
“I can’t stand it.” Greer raised herself until she could just see over the edge of the window sill. Her thighs protested at the awkward position, but they could quit their grumbling. The sight in front of her was worth a million charley horses.
Alex had pulled off his own shirt and was wiping the sweat from his face with it. Then he dropped the shirt at his feet, revealing his chest and belly.
“God is good,” Raylene whispered hoarsely, climbing her way up the cabinet.
Greer bumped her back down. They couldn’t afford to get caught ogling Alex. And realistically, she wanted to be the only one ogling him.
Art. That was what this man’s body was. A museum should build a glass case around him and attach a donation box. Screw endowments. The place would have all the money they ever needed from women stuffing twenty dollar bills in that box.
His arms and shoulders were thick and powerful. Little, if any, hair spanned his pectorals, but she’d lay down a million-dollar bet the man didn’t wax his chest. All that smooth skin led to abs that rippled with the perfect amount of muscle.
But as delicious as all those muscles were, they were simply a canvas for what decorated them.
She’d thought Alex’s tattoos extended all the way up his arm, and they did. Above his elbow, the serpent morphed into an intricate armored plate that covered his shoulder. But his body art didn’t stop there. It meandered down his chest, over those abs to disappear into his jeans. The colors and designs covered only his left half, perfectly bisecting his body.
Alex stretched a butt-ugly green T-shirt between hishands then pulled it over his head. He squirmed and contorted, trying to work his arms and shoulders into fabric that was no match for them. In all the movement, he turned so he faced away from Greer. What she saw was a mirror image of his front side, with tattoos covering one shoulder blade, down his back, to once again disappear into his waistband.
There were more beneath his pants. She knew it.
But what did they all mean, and why was he tattooed on only one side of his body?
Lord, she wanted a magnifying glass, six hours, and a super-sized bottle of massage oil to spend on Alex’s body. And that was just above the waist.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Raylene said.
Crap, crap, crap. Greer had let him expose himself in a way she damn well knew he would never want. He would kill her if he ever found out she and Raylene had spied on him. His arms were one thing, but no one could see the designs on his lower abs and not imagine exactly where else they led. She dropped to her knees and pulled Raylene to sit flat-butted on the kitchen floor. “We have to crawl out of here.”
“What?”
“He can’t know we were in the kitchen when he changed shirts. Let’s go.” Greer grabbed Raylene’s hand and directed her into an awkward three-limbed crawl. Once they were in the hallway that split the house, Greer sat and braced her back against the wall. “Oh. Grandma. Moses.”
“You can say that again.” Raylene shoved a hank of her Texas big hair off her forehead, which showed off her earrings, each a mermaid complete with moving tails made of iridescent blue, green, and silver scales. “Why do I feel like we just escaped from one of those James Bondmovies?”
Because Greer had a hunch that Alex could be about as mean as a tank full of crocodiles if he was crossed. “He doesn’t like people looking at him.”
The snort that came from Raylene was half filled with humor, the rest with disbelief. “Surely he’s looked in a mirror and knows that’s a pipe dream.”
“He’s self-conscious about the tattoos.”
“Why in the world? They make a woman want to use her tongue on him like she’d lick the beaters after mixing up a Heaven’s Just a Sin Away chocolate cake.”
The thought of Alex’s honed body covered with a cocoa and powdered sugar frosting made Greer’s mouth go into salivation overdrive. “He thinks people will think he’s a thug.”
“Hmph,” Raylene huffed. “If those women bringing him covered dishes get a look at all that, they won’t be using Pyrex anymore. They’ll be serving up Tater Tot casserole in their C cups.”
Another reason for Alex to stay covered from head to toe. “Okay, he’s had time to wrestle his way into that shirt by now. We can walk back into the kitchen like two normal women.”
