Page 349 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Whatever you think,” I say.
He nods. “Then maybe one of just you—another shot from the back—of you leaning on the edge of the pool, looking off into the distance—” His words cut off, and his cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink before he shrugs. “I don’t know. It sounds cheesy when I say it out loud, but I can see it in my head. If you’re game, we can take a few different shots and see what happens.”
“Okay. I trust you. Whatever you need, I’m happy to help.”
I follow him onto the pool deck and drop my bag onto a chair. The pool sparkles in the sunshine, the water a deep, mesmerizing blue. At one end, the pool has no visible edge; instead, it cascades over a hidden rim, giving the impression that the water goes on forever, blending right into the horizon. Whoever designed this place knew what they were doing. The water in the pool, whether because of the deep blue tiles lining the deck or just sheer magic, is the exact same shade as the rolling Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance.
“Did you do that on purpose?” I say, pointing at the horizon. “You color-matched your pool to the mountains?”
Flint grins, then tugs his shirt off before dropping it onto a nearby chair. “I wish I were that good, Audrey. But that’s just luck. And a trick of the light.”
For a moment, I don’t have words. I caught a glimpse of Flint’s stomach that day he found me hiding in the bushes. And the internet has shown memanyviews of his physique, including a shot of his bare butt I possibly scrolled past four dozen times. But seeing him here, in person, only feet from me. He doesn’t even lookreal.
I swallow against the lump in my throat and force my eyes onto Flint’s face. His eyebrows are raised, his expression saying he’s fully aware I was just checking him out, but he doesn’t tease me about it. He steps toward the water. “Are you coming?”
The words sound like a challenge, and I’m not about to back down even if it means taking off this stupid sundress while I’m wearing this stupid tiny bikini.
I reach for the hem of my dress.
I’m not ready for this. Not even a little bit.
But there’s no going back now.
Chapter Twelve
Flint
Audrey in a sundress,her shoulders bare and her hair down around her shoulders was one thing.
But Audrey in a bikini?
I am…not preparedwhen she pulls off her dress and drops it onto a lounge chair. She turns to face me, her hands pressed to her stomach like she’s nervous.
I’m staring.
Of courseI’m staring. Audrey is stunning. I’m used to being around women who spend hours with personal trainers every day, toning, tightening, perfecting. But Audrey feels different. Not that she’s any less gorgeous. She isn’t. Long legs, subtle curves. She just looks…real.
I pull my eyes away, somehow sensing that if she realizes I’m staring, it’s going to make her uncomfortable. So I do the first thing that pops into my mind. I run toward the pool, shout “Cannonball!” at the top of my lungs, and jump in.
When I emerge from the water, Audrey has made her way to the edge of the pool. She has a towel and a bottle of sunscreen inher hands, and the expression on her face says she has no idea how she wound up here.
I don’t know how she wound up here either, but I’m so glad she did.
Despite the impression she’s given me that there will never be anything real between us, I can’t quell my desire to impress her—to charm her.
I want Audrey Callahan to like me.
The challenge of that—of realizing those feelings aren’t a guarantee—I could get high on it.
It makes this small slice of my life feel normal, and right now, I need all the normal I can get.
I swim toward Audrey, standing when the water is shallow enough for me to touch the bottom. I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to my exposed chest and biceps, and I barely resist the urge to flex. Something tells me that kind of blatant display would only irritate Audrey.
She squirts a little sunscreen into her palm, then holds out the bottle. “Care to make yourself useful?” she asks. “Fifteen minutes without sunscreen, and I’ll turn into a tomato.”
She rubs the lotion into her arms and shoulders, then turns slightly, showing me her back.
Okay. No problem.I can totally handle this. I’m a grown man, not a fourteen-year-old boy high on hormones.
