Page 14 of Touch of Innocence
SEVEN
Luckily for them, Mike had taken one look at the three of them, still damp and encrusted with drying mud, and he’d immediately send them home for the day. Sam’s skin itched, and he longed to be clean again, and working for the rest of the day like this would have been pretty close to his idea of hell.
The inside of his car would never be the same, but it was sort of a piece of junk, anyway. He’d been trying to save money, buying the cheapest vehicle that he could get, and that had turned out to be a good thing since Sam was pretty sure it would always smell of flat, coppery, river water and wet dog.
Sam didn’t dare to look at Gunner as he drove them home together. If he did, he was sure he would see something bad on his face. Something mocking, maybe, deeply unflattering. Judgment about how weak Sam was, about his lack of control over his own dog, or something.
Gunner said nothing, and by the time they got home, Sam was really starting to itch. Irritated, he swept off his shirt, wishing he could do the same to his pants, which were really in worse shape.
First things first.
“Backyard, Shadow,” Sam ordered, and the dog, his tail firmly behind his legs as though he knew just how much trouble he’d caused, slunk off in the appropriate direction. Sam’s face softened into a bit of a smile when he saw him. Shadow was a good dog, but what dog didn’t get excited when there was a critter to chase around after?
As much as it pained him to think about it, Gunner had been right. Sam needed to get a leash for the dog, who was a smart, good dog, but he was still just a dog. And so young still, despite his size. Enthusiastic and full of energy.
Sam kept his eye on his pet as he followed him around back, which didn’t stop him from being keenly aware of it when Gunner followed him. And the worst part was, the guy had just helped him to save his dog. He couldn’t even make nasty comments to him, not when he owed him so much.
Gunner had responded faster than Sam had. He had been in motion before Sam had really had a chance to understand what had happened fully, and for that, Sam owed him. Most people would have called for help, maybe, or followed along on the shoreline.
Not Gunner. He had jumped right in, and the truth was, without Gunner, Sam knew that he would have had a much harder time with the whole thing. Gunner was brave, that much was clear. Brave and …
Sam shook his head. He didn’t need to be thinking about these things, though he wasn’t sure it was going to be easy to stop. Like it or not, Gunner had impressed him, and he was still very quiet as he pulled out the big metal tub that they used to wash Shadow. The dog was every bit as muddy, if not more so than Sam and Gunner were.
Getting the hose, Sam started to fill the tub, and Shadow looked at him mournfully. The dog had never been all that keen on bath time, and if he got it into his head, he could be a pretty big brat about it.
“I’ll help,” Gunner offered, and Sam shook his head, not in negation but in wonder. After everything that had happened between them, Gunner was still offering to help? Gunner did the dishes every night, and Sam had assumed that the guy was sucking up to the rest of Sam’s family, but he was starting to question himself on that.
“Thanks.” Sam couldn’t afford to turn down the help, as much as he would like to defiantly say that he didn’t need it. He probably didn’t, but he knew it would be much more of a pain in the ass without Gunner. So he raised his head, kneeling on the ground as he looked up at the other man, meaning to meet his eyes, to show that he was sincere about wanting to thank him.
His eyes didn’t make it all the way up to Gunner’s face, though. They snagged briefly on his flat stomach, and caught and suck completely on his strong, developed chest, his sweet brown nipples, the broadness of his shoulders.
Gunner had taken his shirt off, too, and it was the first time that Sam had seen him in such a state. He was gorgeous, like a statue of a god, only real and breathing and alive. Broad and muscular and hard all over, Sam found that he couldn’t stop looking.
It was just the surprise of it—he tried to tell himself. He was just shocked to find Gunner in such a state. It wasn’t because Sam wanted him. It wasn’t because he had wondered, on those two occasions when they had ended up making out, just what Gunner would look like without his clothes.
“Okay, Shadow, c’mere, boy,” Gunner coaxed, and his low, deep voice was much less growly than usual, and pitched slightly higher, the voice a man would use with a small child. Or an animal.
Somehow, Sam hadn’t expected Gunner to be the sort of man who had a different voice when he spoke to animals. Once more, he was being proven wrong about this man, and he forced his eyes away from Gunner’s body, irritated by himself, by his own foolish reactions.
Was he being proven wrong about himself, too? He had always thought he was straight. Or wanted to think that he was straight, and he’d been able to get away with it because he was attracted enough to some women that he could mess around, at least a little, with them. And his feelings for men, he’d always been able to push away, had always been able to call it a fluke.
Until now. Until Gunner, who haunted Sam’s mind. Gunner, who teased him mercilessly, but who was a good guy, obviously, deep down. Gorgeous Gunner, a man that Sam was honestly having a hard time resisting. He hadn’t thought that possible.
Shadow wandered meekly enough to the tub, and Sam turned off the hose, for now. He got out the dog shampoo, busying himself with the tasks, keeping himself from thinking too much. He forced his eyes to focus on the hose, on the shampoo, instead of on Gunner.
“He’s not great with baths. You might want to put your phone aside, or the water might ruin it,” Sam said, the first words that he’d said directly to Gunner in quite some time. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but he still wasn’t sure how to put that in words.
Besides, he was pretty sure that Gunner would make fun of him. And he would be entitled to, as well, after how Sam had treated him.
“Look, don’t get weird about this. It just makes sense,” Gunner spoke, and Sam raised his eyes, just enough to see Gunner’s fingers at the waistband of his jeans, tugging them open and down his strong, thick legs, leaving him in just his boxers.
Oh God. Why was that as hot as it was? Why did Sam have to actually, with a nearly physical effort, force his gaze away from that nearly naked body? He heard and watched, straining his peripheral vision, and Gunner wandered over to the patio and draped his damp clothes over them.
It did make sense. Shadow was going to get them soaking wet otherwise, and Sam could do this. He could be logical about nearly anything, so he tugged his own clinging, wet jeans off and hung them, and his shirt, up to dry.
Logic or not, his heart was beating against his ribs like a caged bird, and he was acutely aware of his own body, and of Gunner’s. What would Gunner think of how Sam looked? Would Gunner find Sam even half as attractive as Sam found Gunner?
Sam was tall, too tall—he’d always thought. And he’d worked out a lot to force his body to put on muscle, but it was all lean muscle, not beautiful, sculpted, strong muscles like Gunner had.
