Page 18 of The 7 Rules of Moving On
He’d tried not to stare at Kissie through the windows while she dove headfirst into the deep end of Mystic’s pool in a sweet black bikini. He’d tried not to smile or sigh or feel a weird sort of longing tug at his chest when she and Dawn swam to the edge to watch the sunset over the mountains, resting their arms on the natural rock walls he lovingly maintained. He’d tried to keep his mind out of the gutter when she’d climbed back out of the pool, steam rising off her body as goosebumps pebbled her skin. He’d tried all of these things, and he’d failed miserably.
The next morning, staring up at his ceiling after a few hours of restless sleep because he couldn’t stop wondering if Kissie slept on her back or her belly, something occurred to him. He knew she was here to move on from a breakup, but who was to say he couldn’t do that for her? He could be her fling, her rebound guy, her weekend-to-remember sex toy.
Rolling onto his side, clutching his pillow tightly against his chest, he tried as hard as he could to ignore the voice in his head telling him the last thing he wanted to be was Kissie Mitchell’s rebound guy.
When someone knocked on his door, he rolled back over and checked his phone. Seven-thirty.A little early for Ryan.
“Who’s there?” he asked, clearing the morning gravel from his voice.
“Um. Hi, Trig. It’s Kissie. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“Kissie?” His feet flew over the side of his bed while he rubbed industriously at his eyes, making sure he didn’t have any sleepies. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really. Do you have any cold medicine?”
Stumbling to his door, he turned the knob and pulled it open. She was a silhouette in the morning sunlight pouring in through the windows. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Cold medicine? Are you sick?”
When his eyes adjusted to the light and her face came into focus, he noticed her gaze falling from his face to his chest to his hips, lower, her bright blue eyes growing wider and wider.
Christ.Please don’t tell me I have morning wood.
Since his sleep-deprived brain hadn’t considered putting on a shirt before he’d opened his door, all he had on was a pair of blue flannel pajama pants with polar bears on them that would in no way hide an erection. Chancing a glance down, he saw that his pants were slung low on his hips, but his dick was behaving itself.
“Um.” She dragged her eyes up from his hips, stalling out on his abs. “Uhhhh…”
“Yes?” he asked, flexing. He couldn’t help it. He loved the way she looked at him. She could look at him like that all day for the rest of time for all he cared. “Kissie?”
Shutting her eyes, shaking her head, she said, “No, I’m not sick. But Dawn is.”
“Oh, shit. Is it bad?”
“It’s not good. I’m surprised you couldn’t hear her hacking from down here. It’s, like, foghorn loud.”
“Shoot. Poor Dawn. Being sick away from home is the worst. I think I’ve got something.” He glanced around his floor. “Let me find my shirt
and—”
“No!”
“You don’t want me to find my shirt?”
Scarlet surged up her throat “Of course not.”
He raised a brow.
“Wait! That’s not what I meant. I meant of course I don’tnotwant you to find your shirt.”
“I see.”
“But, it’s just, um, uhhh... Dawn can’t swallow pills!”
Bartenders could spot a lie faster than a fire lookout could spot a plume of smoke, not that it took much skill to spot hers. Unable to help himself, he leaned against his doorframe, crossing his arms, making his pecs bulge.
“She can’t?” he asked.
