Page 61 of Lucky Shot
She’s attached a picture of Flynn working out in their backyard. He’s shirtless and holding dumbbells that make his arm muscles strain. Shaking my head and smiling, I click off the image. Flynn is a handsome guy, for sure, but the way I feel about him is too brotherly to enjoy checking him out.
A pang of something else hits me though. A restlessness to have that type of relationship. They’re still so in love but they also have a deep trust and connection that I’ve never had with a man. I can see how it’s changed my sister. She’s more secure somehow, less guarded. Let me be clear, I don’t think a man is going to make me less of a hot mess. It’d still be nice to have someone that brought out the good in me instead of the usual insecurity, fear, and lastly, rage.
I’m downloading an app that says it can identify birds by their sounds and appearance when something catches my eye down by the water. Or rather, someones.
Two men are running side by side. I pick out Nick first. His dark hair flops with every step. He’s too far for me to make out his facial expression but his jaw is set in its usual hard line. When I’m finally able to pull my gaze off him, I recognize the bulkier man next to him as Penn. Their words from last night about meeting up to run around the lake resurface. Jesus, did they literally run around the whole damn lake?
I’m still wondering about it, and staring, when Nick stops jogging. He lifts a hand in a wave to Penn, who keeps going, and then starts toward the house.
The closer he gets, the better able I am to see him. I have the sudden desire to snap a picture and send it to Olivia because my view just got a lot better. He’s tall and broad, but lean. His waist tapers in and his muscles are well-defined.
Nick’s gaze drifts to me when he’s halfway up to the house. He adjusts his path, heading toward the cabin instead of his place. My heart beats rapidly. I take a sip of tea, hoping to appear completely unphased, but the heat of it mixed with the warmth fluttering through me with the hot, grumpy man coming my way has sweat beading up on my forehead.
“Morning,” he says, a little gruff and a little breathless, when he’s ten feet away.
This close I can make out the sweat dripping down his temples and chest and abs. Good god. I swallow hard.
“Morning,” I chirp back, so high-pitched it doesn’t even sound like me. I glance down into my tea and take another small sip. I am on fire, inside and out.
He rests both hands on his hips and his chest moves as he works to catch his breath. “You’re up early.”
“Not as early as you, apparently.”
“Trying to beat the heat. It finally feels like summer.”
I glance down to the lake, so I won’t be tempted to check him out again. Who am I kidding? I’m tempted. Fuck, am I tempted.
“Maybe I’ll take a swim today.” I glance back at him and am hit with that buzzy, warm feeling in another wave.
“I wouldn’t suggest it unless you’re looking to do a polar plunge. It’ll be another couple of weeks before the water is warm enough to brave swimming.”
Momentarily I think of the pool at my old apartment building. The hot concrete that burns your feet and the lounge chairs with blue and white striped umbrellas overhead. Hard as I try, I can’t imagine being back there. Though a dip in the non-frigid water does sound nice.
“No writing today?” he asks.
“No, I try to take Sundays off. Though now that swimming is off the table, I’ll have to find something else to do.”
“I might have a solution.”
My brows lift. “You do?”
“Meet me out front in twenty minutes?”
“Ominous.” A grin pulls at my lips. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
I tamp back the giddy sensation rising in my chest. “I need more information. What should I wear? Do I need to fix my hair? Do I need a hat? Sunscreen? Wait. You’re not going to make me run around the lake, are you?”
A small huff of a laugh leaves him, and his hands fall to his sides. “No running. And wear whatever you want. Where we’re going, it won’t matter.”
Even more ominous. But I’m still grinning as he starts for the house. A few steps away, he glances back over his shoulder. “Wear socks.”
“Socks?!” He doesn’t care what else I wear, but socks are necessary?
Of course, he doesn’t bother responding, and I’m too excited to let it stop me from springing into action. I should probably question the excitement of going somewhere with Nick, but I shove all that away. And I pull on socks.
Of all the places I imagined Nick taking me, this wasn’t in the top one hundred. And it absolutely should have been.
