Up close, I see he’s much more than a backside and athleticism. He’s high, sharp cheekbones and a perfect jawline. A full mouth. Wavy dark hair, a little floppy on top, and an intriguing scar slashing across his left cheekbone. Full tattoo sleeves along both arms. He’s deep, earnest brown eyes that belong around your mother’s dinner table at Thanksgiving, as he regales the family with wholesome stories of cat rescues and road-side cleanups.
Then the corner of his mouth stretches in a smile and… no. I was wrong. This isn’t a nice boy you simply bring home to Mom. This is a man who charms the pants off your parents, opens the car door for you after dinner, and drives you to a dark corner of a nearby parking lot to fuck you lights-out in the back seat, because he couldn’t wait ’til you got home.
Also, he looks incredibly familiar.
“I hope you’re okay.” He holds out a hand to help me up with an impressively fretful furrow to his brow. Once I’m on my feet he reaches for me again, eyeing my grass-stained front. As though he means to brush me down but then thinks better of touching a strange woman in the breast area.
What a shame.
“Totally fine.” I wipe off my overalls. “Can’t say the same for my knees tomorrow, but who hasn’t woken up a little banged up after a doggy-style tryst on the ground?”
The man chuckles almost uncertainly. Like he wants to laugh but can’t decide whether it’s particularly gentlemanly to laugh at a joke like that. His gaze drifts to Shy, as though seeking her permission.
Where the hell have I seen him before? The face, that build… I’m positive that I know him.
He seems to relax when Shy offers her own laugh and hands me my phone. “Here, I assume the photo shoot’s over.”
“Daddy.” Rosie throws out her arms toward the man.
“Not Daddy.” Shy kisses the top of Rosie’s head and shoots Mr. Wrecking Ball an apologetic look.
“She’s very sweet.” He waves at Rosie. Then he zeroes in on my phone, and there’s definitely no trace left of that amusement. “Hey… I know this is probably a weird thing to ask, but is there any chance you can delete that picture?”
I swipe at my phone, bringing up the photo in question. There I am on all fours, pink in the face, hair disheveled, with this beautiful man plastered on top of me. And we lookgoodtogether.
I turn the screen around, letting him have a look. “Are you sure you don’t want me to send you a copy instead? This is definitelyplaster above your bedmaterial.”
He peers at the screen one long moment, and I certainly don’t miss the twitch at his jaw as he stares at us all tangled up. Nor the way his eyes find me beyond my phone, taking me in like it’s the first time he’s seeing me properly.
He clears his throat, gaze cutting to Shy before settling back on me. “It’s not really a good time for me to be seen having a public… What was it? ‘Doggy-style tryst on the ground’?”
“Oh, now I’m intrigued. You’re saying there’s usually a good time for it?”
His lips twitch. “You’d be doing me a favor. If you deleted the picture.”
My thumb moves over my screen. “There. All gone.”
“Thanks.” He pushes the hair off his forehead a little uncertainly and holds my gaze, doing his very best to hypnotize me with the deep brown of his eyes and that hint of a smile. It might have worked, had I not been too busy trying to place him.
Shy hikes Rosie up her hip. “Cee, maybe we should…”
She indicates the opening under the stands we’d snuck out from. Because we’re not supposed to be here, and we’re definitely not supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves.
“Right. Well, it was nice to meet you. Sort of.” I hook an arm around Shy and start leading us back to the exit, but the man catches up quickly.
“What brings you out here, anyway? The school only gives special permission if you’re working with one of their trainers.” Shy and I double our steps. Mr. Wrecking Ball tucks his hands into the pockets of his black athletic shorts. He’s keeping pace with us, and without looking I can tell he keeps shooting sidelong glances my way. “By the awkward silence, I’ll assume this isn’t exactly sanctioned?”
“Of course it is.” I don’t slow down in the slightest. “We’re upstanding citizens, me and Shy. Rosie especially. And I resent the accusation.”
“She’s an alum,” Shy adds. “Helping out the Huskies with… you know. Their social media. Hence the photo shoot you ruined.”
“Exactly.” I suck in my cheeks to keep from laughing, patting Shy’s arm as we move around a set of orange pylons on the field. “We’ll get ’em next time, when the mean man isn’t here to run me over.”
“The Huskies’ social media, huh?”
The edge in his voice tells me he didn’t buy that for a second. Also, that he’s willing to make us pay for it.
Mr. Wrecking Ball cuts us off, coming to a stop in front of us, forcing us still. He shoots a quick grin at Shy. Or rather, at the overload of cuteness in her arms.