Page 29 of Raised On It

Complimenting me in my current state takes charm to a level even I’ve never experienced.

Come to think of it, maybe he needs glasses?

Either way, here’s hoping the shower calms me down enough to act my age, and more importantly, I stay in long enough for him to be gone when I get out.

My intention was to take my time, but the butterflies (I see them as pink and purple and maybe even with some glitter thrown in there) are causing havoc in my stomach, keeping me on edge and rushing to finish. My brain may tell me I want him to be gone, but the dopamine-laced butterflies racing around my insides know this is a lie. I can’t get ready fast enough in hopes that I get to see him again.

The first thing I notice once I’ve toweled off and slipped into my robe is that it’s quiet. The new friends in my stomach start to slowly float away since the silence most likely means he’s gone. Bummed as I may be, I still keep replaying our interaction in the front window over and over, finding it hard not to smile at myself while doing my makeup.

I’m just about to turn on the blow dryer when I freeze. Hearing what sounds like the barking of a dog coming from the backyard.

Holy crap.

That sounded like Lou.

Was that Lou?

Is he still here?

No way!

I run out of the bathroom like a woman with my hair on fire so I can look out the kitchen window, and sure enough, there they are. Two of the most handsome bachelors of Eastlyn, Oregon.

Lou is up on his back legs going crazy over something up one of the giant pine trees in the backyard, doing what dogs do, but his daddy has just dropped a big bag of soil on the ground and is using the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, revealing his stomach.

Oh. My. Goodness.

The six-pack.

The V.

The way his jeans…

Oh, snap. I’ve been busted.

The arrogant smile gracing his lips says he knows I was looking, and not only was I looking but I clearly like what I see.

Shit!

Still behaving like a preteen, I run out of the room with my face on fire this time and slam the bathroom door behind me, hiding from the hot jock who caught me staring.

I am such an idiot.

This time, I actually do take my time blowing out my hair and getting dressed. Heading back to the kitchen to feed my grumbling stomach, I force myself not to look out back. But when I see the bottom shelf of the fridge lined with bottles of water, I can’t help but think how thirsty Miles must be out there in the summer heat.

Glancing out the window, it looks like he’s cleaning up, and I begin to panic, thinking he might be leaving when all I’ve done so far today is stare at him through a variety of windows.

I’m pathetic.

I grab two bottles of water and a bowl and take a deep breath before opening the door to the backyard.

“You guys thirsty?” I yell, holding the cold beverages up.

Lou bounds across the yard at full speed, his tail wagging and tongue dangling probably thinking I have a treat of some sort.

A few feet before the shepherd gets to me, Miles yells, “Lou, down!” and just like that, he stops in his tracks and lies down. He’s panting, tongue hanging out, but he’s doing exactly what his daddy told him to do.

I throw one of the ice-cold bottles at his dad, whose long strides have him heading across the grass toward me, and then I put the bowl in front of my new furry friend and fill it for him.

---