Page 43 of Hard to Love
Raylene’s eyebrows hiked up. “Normal? Sugar, don’t insult me like that. By the way, you never did say what you’re doing here.”
“Looking for Alex.”
“You may have found more of him than you were searching for.”
No way. She was pretty sure she wanted the rest of him. And she didn’t just want to admire the rest of that smoking body. She was beginning to want something that didn’t have a thing to do with his outsides. For some reason, shewas becoming convinced she was supposed to uncover whatever was buried deep inside that man. Supposed to reach in, wrap her hand around his heart, and bring it back to life.
Greer pulled in her feet and slid her back up the wall until she was standing. “Let’s pretend I just walked in, okay?”
“You lead,” Raylene said, “and I’ll follow.”
Greer straightened her own shirt and blew out a breath. When they returned to the kitchen, the lawnmower was giving out a sputtering, wheezing sound, but Alex was pushing it in straight lines as though it were a professional-grade tractor. His back muscles moved and flexed under the tight green shirt. The fabric hugged him so tightly, he could’ve won a wet T-shirt contest without a single drop of water. He gave the mower a shove to get over a mound of tall grass, and the shirt rode up to expose a couple of inches of his bronzed and inked lower back.
Pretend you didn’t see all that. For your sake. And for his.
“Here.” Raylene passed her a glass of ice water.
Smart woman. Greer took a couple of long swallows. Then she dipped her fingers in the glass and sprinkled droplets across her cleavage.
“That was for Alex.”
“Oh.” She quickly refilled it and headed for the back door. Stepping out onto the deck, she did an SOS wave with her free hand, trying to snag Alex’s attention.
He paused in the middle of a half-cut row, and it took the mower three-quarters of a second to sputter and die. His grip tightened on the handle, but then he just shook his head and stepped away from the machine.
“Thought you might need some water.”
“Raylene just brought me some not fifteen minutes ago.”
Why hadn’t she mentioned that? Greer strode toward him, glass in hand. “More water won’t hurt you.” She tried to keep her focus on his face—as stoic as it was—but it was lured away by a small bump under the chest of his skintight T-shirt.
The heat she was feeling had not one damn thing to do with the overhead sun. Her entire body was overheating because of that tiny bulge. Alex wore a nipple ring on the tattooed side of his body. My God, could he get any more panty-melting?
His right hand rose to cover the other side of his chest. If he was so damn ashamed of his body, why did he decorate it with jewelry and ink? Besides, being self-conscious of something that incredibly beautiful didn’t make a bit of sense.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I need you…for something,” she said. Something? She needed him for multiple things. First things first, though. “The competition registration starts first thing in the morning, but I’ve got issues. The sink is dripping in the barn’s bathroom, and only half the booths are set up.”
“I promised Raylene I’d finish her lawn within the hour.”
“That’s perfect. Registration doesn’t start until nine tomorrow morning, so we’ve got a good twenty hours to get everything ready.” She shoved the water glass into his hand and hightailed it back to the house before he could say no.
Chapter Twelve
An hour and a half later, Alex stripped down in his private bathroom at the barn. Probably stupid to wash off the sweat and stink when Greer planned to put him to work all over again, but he needed to scrub away the bits of grass clinging to places on his body that had no business wearing grass.
The mirror over the sink was small, and Alex normally didn’t check himself out. He damn well knew every mark on his body. Every design Javier had painstakingly applied to his skin. Now, he skimmed a hand over his left pec, feeling the cool metal against his palm. Greer had seen his nipple ring under that tight T-shirt. And from the way her eyes had widened and she’d touched her tongue to the corner of her lip, it had turned her on.
What would she think if she got an eyeful of the rest of him?
He slid his palm over the murder of seven crows on his stomach, grazed the jut of his hipbone, and circled his fist around his dick. He’d been half hard since Greer walked into Raylene’s backyard. Nah, since that stupid art class she’d dragged him to. Fine, since he’d touched her hand the first time.
Didn’t take more than two strokes to turn a semi into a full-on.
Hell, if he was going to have to work side-by-side with her over the next few hours, inhaling her honeyed scent, it wouldn’t hurt to get rid of this thing.
He ripped aside the shower curtain and stepped inside the tight space. With quick, economical motions, he soaped up his body and rubbed his hands over his recently shaved head. Couple of swipes under his arms and a quick rinse, and he was done. He was the poster child for low maintenance.
