Page 20 of Memories of Us

Rebeka

WITH EACH STEP, BRADLEY's old mesh shorts sank lower on my hips, forcing me to hitch them up to keep them from falling to the dirt and exposing my bare ass. With the soft material fisted in my grasp, I shuffled toward the truck, my attention on the mild morning sun peeking over the horizon and shining a glow across the flat land.

When I woke up at five, Bradley was already out starting chores, and Daddy was sound asleep in the recliner where he'd passed out the night before.

Most people were anti-mornings, but not me. The fresh air and coolish temperatures set the tone for the day. Plus, mornings offered that first glorious sip of steaming coffee. Most nights I'd fall asleep with visions of that first sip in my dreams.

But last night, my thoughts were not of coffee. I tossed and turned from varying dreams with Brenton as the star. Some were good, X-rated good, but others were quite terrible. The terrible ones had him leaving the moment he remembered why he’d forced us apart thirteen years ago and proceeded to recount, in heartrending detail, why he decided to walk away.

“Whose clothes are those?”

I jerked my head in the direction of Brenton's voice. He leaned against the other side of the truck, glaring with narrowed eyes. Was that jealousy in his tone?

“Not mine.” I knew I shouldn't egg him on, but where was the fun in that? “Problem?”

Annoyance flashed behind his green eyes, making them sparkle in the morning sun. If I didn't hate him, I'd swoon at the sight. But I did hate him. Yep. Hate. That was the warm tingling feeling simply hearing his voice invoked.

“No problem besides it's fifteen after and already fucking hot out here. I don't like waiting. Be on time when you suggest meeting up.”

“Wow, someone's grouchy this morning.” I gave him a wide smile and pulled open the driver door. “And hate to tell you, but the heat part is about to get worse before it gets better.”

Brenton slid into the passenger side and slammed the door shut behind him. “Oh, and why's that?”

After situating my sunglasses, I shifted in the seat to tell him about the broken air conditioning, then cursed under my breath and looked back out the windshield to avert my eyes from his bare arms. “Nope. Out. Get out of my truck. Right now. Out.”

“What the hell is your problem?” He tossed his hands into the air in exasperation but didn't make a move out the door.

“Nope. Out. We can't do this. Not with those.” I gestured at his elaborately tattooed arms. “I can't.” Shit, this was not happening.

Gorgeous. Military. Tattoos.

Did any woman have enough willpower to withstand that combo?

“What’s your problem?”

Banging my forehead against the hard steering wheel, I kept my eyes sealed shut. “Can you put long sleeves on or something? A parka maybe?”

When I didn't get a response, I rolled my forehead along the hard plastic to sneak a peek at the sexiest man alive. His green eyes locked with mine after my long perusal up each arm, a cocky smirk pushing a faint dimple in his left cheek.

Shit. Dimples too.

Hell.

I might as well strip right here.

“Have a thing for tattoos, do you?”

After clearing my throat, I took a deep breath and twisted the key in the ignition. Keeping my eyes out the windshield and hands at ten and two, I started us down the drive. “Nope. They're quite offensive actually, so I'd appreciate it if you don't show them again. Ever.”

“Right.”

We didn't make it halfway down the long gravel drive before he was fiddling with the AC controls and adjusting the vents. Without making it visible, I cut my gaze back to his arms, watching the way his biceps flexed and moved beneath the ink. The pictures were elaborate and detailed with black and blue shading.

“Shit,” he blurted and grabbed the door handle.

Oh hell. “Sorry,” I yelled and focused on not overcorrecting the truck into the fence. “Guess I'm not awake yet.”

Yep, that was it.

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