Page 29 of Make Mine Sweet
My eyes lock on his sweaty chest, admiring in person every last feature I’d glimpsed in the picture Wren showed me. Broad shoulders. Insanely firm pecs. Biceps for days. A flat stomach that I most definitely should not be eating up with my eyes.
The sight is like Darcy coming out of the lake—unexpected and mesmerizing. Heat prickles up my neck as my fingers itch to trace the freckles that dance over waves of muscles. Totally inappropriate, but the heart wants what it wants.
My heart hasn’t wanted anyone in averylong time.
Unbidden, my gaze tracks lower. Instead of his ubiquitous sweatpants, he’s wearing athletic shorts. I suck in a breath. Where one leg is all toned muscle, the other is black plastic and metal. I take in his prosthetic leg, my mind stalling out as it shifts from silent applause to curiosity.
August’s laughter as he snuggles Dutch finally breaks the spell I’m under, and I realize just how long I’ve been staring.
Forever.At least, that’s what my heart rate says.
My attention snaps up to Ian’s eyes. Twin blue flames glare back at me. His hair is up in another bun, sweaty tendrils clinging to the side of his face and beard. He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving from exertion, but I refuse to let my eyes dip lower again.
I don’t know how long they’d snag there this time.
Maybe he didn’t notice me ogling him. There’s a chance, right?
“I thought you didn’t hike.” It’s a terrible stab at small talk when he already told me he climbs mountains for a living.
He goes on staring, utterly silent.
“Not that you can’t.” Even as I say it, I recognize how bad that sounds. As though I think he’sincapable. “I’m sure you can handle it. It’s a pretty easy trail. For someone like you.”
Ugh, no. That came out even worse. “A professional, I mean.”
I’m surprised I can speak at all, my mouth’s so full of my own feet. Ian goes on glowering as if maybe we’d both like the earth to swallow me whole.
“I haven’t seen this much of you out here—I meanmuch of you. At all. I haven’t seen you out here.” I hate every stupid thing vomiting out of my mouth. Why don’t I compliment his glistening pecs and complete my mortification?
If Ian would at least say something, that would help. But he just keeps watching me like the train wreck I am.
“It’s a hot day.” I fan myself like a dork.Is it hot out here or just you?
This is why I never spoke to Ian back when I was a teen. I would have fallen all over myself and spewed an embarrassing amount of nonsense. At least I was smart enough to realize it and kept my distance. So glad I saved that disaster for today, I guess.
Then, as if in slow motion, I look down at August at the same time he realizes Ian has joined us. It’s impossible to miss the way his eyes widen as they latch onto Ian’s prosthetic leg. His mouth dropping open in shock. His tiny hand lifting to point at our neighbor like he’s a shiny-new exhibit in a zoo.
Angry bear. Do not feed.
“Mama, look! Ian’s got a super leg! He really is a pirate like you said!”
Oh, this day is the worst.
I grab August’s hand, closing over his still-pointing finger, and tug him along up the path.
“We should keep going,” I say to Ian. “Need to finish up before it gets dark.”
We’re hours away from sunset, but I’ll take any excuse to leave. If we stay, I’m afraid I’ll complete this humiliation by telling him about my teenage crush.
Or my current one.
Ian says not a word. He’s stood still as sculpted stone since he stopped on the trail, doing nothing but breathing hard and glaring at me. Not even a nod of acknowledgement—not that any of the moronic things I’ve said are worthy of his recognition.
I thought I was used to his silent glowering, but this takes it to a whole new level. I’m pretty sure he’d like to set me on fire and watch me burn down to embers. The way my chest blazes, I’m probably halfway there.
Is it my fault his body left me completely tongue-tied? I cringe because yes, it’s absolutely my fault. I don’t do this. I don’t stare at men or flirt with them or frankly even notice them, but shirtless Ian captured my attention. To say the very least.
“We’ll see you later.” The smile I flash at him is fake and terrible, but I can’t make my face be normal right now. Its default isopen admiration, and I don’t need that on display again.
