Page 100 of A Lucky Shot

He tugged it on and wrapped the scarf around his neck, the fleece instantly smothering the lingering chill from the outdoors. If there was such a thing as a perfectly fitted hat, he was wearing it.

“I just figured, since you’re always cold …”

“I love it. Thank you.” He’d wear it every one of the remaining days before he went home.

She nodded, rocking on her heels, and glancing at her bedroom. “I’m going to jammy up. Two shakes and I’ll be right out. You can wait until I’m done and get changed in my room or get changed out here.”

Jammy up? Fucking adorable. He smiled as he watched her disappear into the bedroom.

“You remember I’ve seen you naked, right?” he called after her. She stuck her head back out the bedroom door to blow him a raspberry. He stripped his jeans and sweater, pulling on a change of clothes and groaning in relief as his distended belly was freed from his jeans.

Thank god for elastic waistbands.

The sounds of closet doors opening and dresser drawers closing knocked through her closed bedroom door, so he wandered over to the wall covered in paintings. Barely an inch of wall was visible between the twenty-odd pieces. A few framed, most on stretched canvas. Some of them were very good. Deliberate, measured. Others were random bursts of colour and texture. No skill, but fun nonetheless. All done by different people, from the looks of them, but on a theme he couldn’t place. Bold colours he’d have never chosen, but bright and joyous.

“What do you think?”

Cass spoke from just behind him, and he crossed his arms over his chest without turning. He thought they made him feel optimistic. Oddly happy. About what, he wasn’t sure. “I think I want to know this story,” he said after a moment.

“Libby and my birthdays are a week apart, and when we turned thirty a couple years ago, we surprised each other with a whole day each. She always wanted to try archery, so I sewed her a complete Merida princess dress, and I wore a bear costume. I asked the armourer on the tv show we were working on to give her archery lessons.”

Josh huffed a laugh through his nose. Cass would have looked like a teddy bear. “Did she forgive you for making her wear a dress?”

“She’ll never admit it, but she loved it, though she was thinking more of Katniss energy than Merida.”

That sounded like Cass. Thoughtful and giving. Able to see past the surface to the unspoken thing someone wanted. “That’s not your story, though.”

He felt her rock beside him. “Libby had all our friends paint how I made them feel. She had an instructor give everyone a quick lesson. Then we all went to a movie, because there is a whole expression around watching paint dry,”—he loved that he could hear the smile in her voice—“ and then we packed up the paintings, came here to hang them, and played all my favourite songs on Guitar Hero for the rest of the night. It was awesome. I still remember who painted each one. That one was Libby,” she said, pointing. “This one was, well, you don’t know any of these people, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Who did that one?” he asked, pointing at one in the bottom corner. While the other paintings made him want to smile, this one made his chest feel empty.This one looked undone. Like someone lost interest halfway through.

“Oh. Just a guy I was seeing at the time. I’d finally convinced him to come out with my friends.” Her voice hollowed, and she shifted beside him. “He started dating a friend of mine he met that night. They got married last year. I was one of her bridesmaids.”

Jesus. She hadn’t been kidding when she said her track record was flawless.

“Why do you keep it up?”

“A reminder that even though one person didn’t love me, I still had a room full of people who did.”

“That—” he started, turning to her, and shook his head, “is not what you’re wearing.”

She glanced down in confusion. “Why?”

Frolicking kittens in Christmas hats festooned the matching two-piece set, but the fabric clung to her lush thighs. Never mind that the top buttoned right to her collarbones, completely hiding her cleavage. Knowing what was under it was worse than being able to see it. Almost. He wanted to stroke the material to see if it was as soft as it looked.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. It was physically impossible for him to not want to take this woman’s clothes off. “It’s too cute.”

“So?”

“It’s not even a one piece. It’s easy access.”

“Access to what?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you were full!”

“I’m also not dead.”

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