Page 28 of Sharing Shane

“That’s what lunch is for.” Wyatt finished folding the sheet, then with a faint frown, sniffed. “What am I smelling?”

“Peaches.” Shane jerked his chin toward the bathroom, where they could hear the shower running. “She was sleeping out here before I made her take the bed.”

“It’s peaches, yeah, but there’s something...” Wyatt put his face to the sheet and inhaled deeply. His eyes drifted closed as he concentrated, then popped wide. “Oh, shit.”

“Don’t say it,” Shane warned.

“But it’s peaches and?—”

“Don’t,” Shane repeated, and yanked the sheet out of Wyatt’s hands. “Get outside, jackass.”

Wyatt waited until they were on the patio and Shane had closed the door behind them. “It’s peaches and pussy, Shane.”

“I know.”

“Peaches. And. Pussy,” Wyatt repeated. “Does she smell like that all the time?”

“Yes.” Shane dragged his hands through his hair. “Why do you think I’m dealing with a perpetual boner, here?”

“Man.” Wyatt dropped into one of the chairs at the small patio table. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Shane sank into the chair next to Wyatt’s. “Hitting on her is a dick move under the circumstances.”

“She can say no,” Wyatt pointed out.

“And then she has to spend the rest of her vacation worrying about whether or not I’m going make things awkward, or worse, ignore the no.” Shane shook his head. “Better to just leave it be.”

Wyatt looked at Shane with sympathetic eyes. “You’re fucking screwed.”

Shane laid his head back and closed his eyes. “I know.”

WHEN VERONICA STEPPED out onto the patio thirty minutes later, she was feeling slightly more relaxed. Switching out the clinging red bikini she’d let Delia talk her into for a simple tank dress in black cotton helped, as had the stern lecture she’d given herself in the shower. But as soon as she saw them again, sprawled in the patio chairs with lunch waiting on the table, all the dirty, sexy thoughts that had bloomed in her mind when she’d seen them kissing came roaring back.

Surprise had come first—she just hadn’t been expecting it—followed swiftly by disappointment. She’d known Shane was gay, of course, but she’d had incredibly vivid sex dreams about him last night that had skewed her sense of reality. She’d forced herself to leave the condo to clear her head, but unfortunately, the image of him lying sprawled on the sofa in nothing but a pair of white boxer shorts had kept popping up. She’d gotten a good look at his back last night when he’d unexpectedly stripped off his shirt, but this morning he’d been lying face up, and the sight of him had nearly brought her to her knees.

The tattoo on his right arm went all the way up, wrapping around his shoulder and extending halfway across his chest, intricate swirls of black ink interspersed with splashes of color, modern art in flesh and blood. His chest was lightly furred, with curls that began under his collarbone, formed a V to the middle of his chest, then tapered off to a light trail down the center of his abdomen. It circled his belly button and then disappeared beneath the waistband of a pair of white cotton boxer shorts that had no business looking that sexy.

The strength of her desire to see what was behind that plain white cotton had surprised her, and she’d gotten out of there as quickly as she could. She’d hoped the long walk followed by a dip in the ocean would be enough to cool her libido, but she’d still been thinking about licking her way down his belly and diving under those shorts when she’d walked in on him kissing his boyfriend.

It had been, to her honest shock, the hottest thing she’d ever seen in her life. She was clearly missing out by keeping her porn consumption strictly hetero.

It didn’t hurt that Wyatt was just as attractive as Shane. He was white, about a head shorter than his boyfriend, with gilded blonde hair and striking blue eyes that danced with charm and mirth. Dimples popped in each cheek when he smiled, and he seemed to smile just about as often as Shane frowned.

So, a lot.

Wyatt spotted her first and stood, smiling. “Perfect timing. The food just got here.”

Veronica smiled back automatically and stepped forward. “Great, I’m starving.”

She glanced at Shane as he, too, pushed to his feet, then quickly looked away. He was frowning at her—again—and even through the spurt of annoyance she felt a flutter in her belly. His dark hair was unbound, hanging loose nearly to his shoulders, and her fingers practically twitched with the desire to run her fingers through it.

Down, girl, she admonished herself and walked around him to take her seat across from Wyatt.

She eyed the drink on the table in front of her, a froth of pink in a hurricane glass with a pineapple wedge and an umbrella. “What’s that?”

---