Page 24 of Sharing Shane

After a moment the burning eased, and with a sigh of relief he picked up his own body wash. He scrubbed himself thoroughly, eliminating any trace of peaches, then shampooed his hair. By the time he stepped out of the shower and toweled off, he was practically asleep on his feet. He brushed his teeth, then tugged on a pair of clean boxers. He picked his dirty clothes off the floor and tucked them on top of his duffle, then picked it up and turned off the light.

When he opened the bathroom door, he picked his way across the room on silent feet, deliberately not looking at the bed or the woman softly snoring in it. He dropped his duffle on one end of the couch and lay down on the other, dragging the sheet Veronica had left behind over himself. He sighed and closed his eyes, then opened them with a curse as the scent of peaches hit his nose.

He rolled over with a groan and resigned himself to a long night.

Four

When he woke up, Veronica was gone.

Shane lay still, listening to the crash of the ocean coming through the open sliding glass door while the early morning breeze danced over his skin. He strained to hear any sound over the rolling waves, but the cottage was silent. He debated going back to sleep—the couch was surprisingly comfortable—but now that he was awake his bladder was demanding attention. He rolled off the sofa with a grunt, holding the sheet to his stomach while he looked around, just in case she was lurking in a corner somewhere.

The living area was empty save for the pot of coffee sitting on the kitchen counter, and the bed was neatly made. Through the open doors to the patio he spotted a pair of flip-flops by the stairs leading down to the beach, and a plain white coffee mug on the short stone wall that separated the patio from the sand.

Satisfied that he was alone, he dropped the sheet and stretched, then padded in his boxers to the bath. He hit the toilet first, wincing when it burned. He hadn’t quite got all the soap out in the shower last night, which just served him right. He finished up and washed his hands, and was walking back into the living area when the doorbell rang.

He frowned. He had no idea what time it was since his pocket watch and phone were still in the jeans he’d shucked off last night—he made a mental note to make sure to pull them out before he sent his clothes to the laundry—and he didn’t see a clock anywhere, not even a digital readout on the microwave. He started to turn to the living room to get his watch when the bell rang again.

He glanced down at himself. He was naked but for the boxers, and would normally at least pull on a pair of pants before opening the door. But the bell rang a third time, and this time it sounded as though whoever was out there was holding down the button. With a scowl, he strode toward the door and flung it open. “What?”

Wyatt stood on the front step, his blond hair in casual disarray, his lean body clad in a colorful T-shirt and board shorts, his white, winter-pale skin already showing a hint of a tan. His lips quirked at Shane’s greeting. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Sorry. Hey.” Shane ran a hand through his hair and struggled to wake up. “What are you doing here?”

“You missed breakfast,” Wyatt informed him and stepped over the threshold.

Shane automatically closed the door behind him, a frown on his face. “I did? What time is it?”

Wyatt walked past Shane into the living area. “Eleven-thirty.”

“Shit.” Shane winced. “Sorry. I overslept.”

“No big,” Wyatt said absently turning slowly in a circle to take in his surroundings. “Nice digs, babe.”

Shane scrubbed his palms over his face and tried to wake up. “I guess.”

“No, seriously. We’re in a room at the hotel, and it’s nice, but this is great. Spacious, comfortable.” He noticed the pillow and tangled sheet on the sofa and turned to Shane with a raised brow. “Who slept on the couch?”

“I did. Only one bed.”

“Really?” A delighted grin lit Wyatt’s pretty, tanned face, and he waggled his brows. “Maybe you two should share.”

Shane rolled his eyes and went to hunt up a glass of water. “Give me a break, Wy.”

“It’s a big bed,” Wyatt mused, climbing the steps to the platform. “Plenty of room for two.”

“You should see the shower,” Shane told him, and let out a grunt of satisfaction when he opened the refrigerator and found several bottles of water stocked there.

“Yeah?” Wyatt crossed the room to poke his head in, then popped back out with wide eyes. “Holy crap. You could have an orgy in there.”

Shane cracked open a bottle of water. “You want?”

Wyatt walked back toward the kitchen, shaking his head. “I’d love some coffee, though. I assume Veronica made it since you never touch the stuff. Do you think she’d mind?”

“Doubt it. Don’t know where the cups are, though.”

“I’ll find one.” Wyatt began opening cupboard doors. “What’s she like?”

Shane shrugged. “Seems nice. A little tense. She thinks I’m a jerk.”

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