Page 124 of Worthy

I can’t take it anymore though. “What brings you to the Ozarks?”

“My grandfather passed away.”

“I’m sorry,” I offer my condolences.

“Yeah. Thank you. I didn’t know him well, but he left me a cabin here. I graduated from high school a few days ago and thought”—he shrugs like it’s no big deal—“what the hell?”

My mind is stuck on the high-school part. “You just graduated?” He nods. “So that would make you what... eighteen?”

He smiles shyly and nods. “Yeah. I’ll be nineteen in September.”

As if that makes a difference. Jesus Christ, he’s a fetus. “Wow.”

“Why? How old areyou?”

He seems way too intrigued. “Twenty-seven,” I supply, and he only smiles.

“Not quite a decade older than me then. And here I thought you could help me with my daddy issues.”

I really wish I hadn’t taken that moment to take a sip of my coffee, but it goes everywhere when I spew it out. “W-what?”

He laughs at that and hands me a napkin. “Kidding. I don’t have daddy issues, but twenty-seven is a good age, I think.”

“It’s been doing okay for me,” I say with a grin, wiping up my mess just as Krista puts our plates down on the table.

“I can see that.” He’s definitely flirting with me, and I like it way too damn much.

“How about after this we go swimming in the lake?” I suggest, and yes, I know it’s stupid.

But when he agrees with a shy nod, I can’t bring myself to care.

So I’ll be a little stupid for now.

This is fine.

Chapter six

Mason

Okay, just relax. So he’s totally hot and charming and funny and...

No. Just stop. He’s just a guy. This is totally fine.

“You ready?”

Owen looks over his shoulder at me, his bare back on full display, muscular and tan with a tattoo on his right shoulder.

Good lord, the man looks good without a shirt.

He’s wearing a pair of black swim trunks and nothing else. And let me tell you, the view of the front is even better. He has a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm and one over his right pec. Just a little dark-blond hair sprinkled between those pecs and a thin line from his belly button dipping into his shorts.

Phew. My teal trunks will never hide the boner I’m sporting, just thinking about him. I really need to get control of my hormones.

“Y-yeah,” I barely squeak and want to slap myself when he chuckles, probably brushing me off as an inexperienced kid. But I’m not.

I’m eighteen years old, damn it. A homeowner even.

I can keep up with him.

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