Page 317 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Harper and Dean tag along. Dean must be as exhausted as the rest of us, because his regular banter is lacking. He’s more interested in listening to Harper’s day. It’s nice, though, because it leaves me and Hart a moment to catch up. He tells me about the delivery mess-up, and I outline the details about Faye finding a certain silk runner in the kitchen that she snipped up for our quilt. I didn’t even argue with her. It’s pointless. We’re getting a Love Quilt.
But mostly, I love how our fingers naturally intertwine, and the connection is effortless.
The bathhouse building glows at the edge of the pines. Fluorescent light buzzes above the men’s and ladies’ doors.
“It’s busy.” Dean recoils when a kid jumps in front of him.
A couple of families herd their kids in and out, even at this late hour. Flip-flops smack against the cement floor. A toddler darts past us, wrapped in a towel like a cape.
“Separate showers it is,” Hart mutters in my ear.
My eyes snap to his.
Was there going to be another option? I can’t hide my surprise or disappointment, and he chuckles.
“Come on, Romeo.” Dean slaps Hart’s arm. “The faster we’re in, the faster we’re out.”
Hart leans down and kisses me. “See you in ten?”
I nod, even though I know ten minutes will feel like forever.
When did I become so sappy?
“It’s in their genes,” Harper says, like she read my mind. “Wild and gruff on the outside, but all heart and soul on the inside.”
“So you’re saying we’re dating teddy bears in disguise?”
Harper laughs. “I guess I am saying that. I hope these showers have hot water left.” She adjusts the strap of her bag as we head inside.
“Warm would be a blessing.” My bra is glued to my skin.
I claim a shower at the far end and turn the handle until the spray warms. Kind of. Enough to get the job done.
Somewhere beyond the thin cinderblock wall, he’s showering too and tilting his head back. Water running over his shoulders and down his taut body.
The thought makes me instantly wet.
I shake it off, scrub quickly, and get dressed before my brain gets me in trouble.
I step outside and find him leaning against the railing. His damp hair drips onto his T-shirt, untucked and looking damn sexy. He clutches his hat in his hand with his bag.
His eyes lift when he sees me, and he pushes off the railing. “You smell like coconuts.”
“I snatched whatever was available.”
“I like it. Good enough to eat.”
“Why are you always trying to eat me?” My eyes skip around the second the words are out.
“Dirty-minded.” He says it like he loves it.
What a bad influence.
He glances over his shoulder. “Looks like the other two walked back ahead of us.”
“You’re not just saying that to get me alone, are you?” I tease.
He takes my bag and slings it over his shoulder with his. “Maybe.”
