Page 12 of Sweet Caroline
“Well, I guess that explains why you’re seeing a therapist.” She tilts her head, one brow arching up.
Laughter puffs out of me when her joke lands. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”
“Oh, God, please don’t!” She holds out her hands like she can wave her words away. “I was just joking!”
“No way. It’s too good. He’ll findit funny. Promise.”
A chilly breeze kicks up, sweeping her blonde curls forward. She tucks a stray one behind her ear.
“So, what do you think that guy’s deal was?” Caroline asks, juggling her bag so she can pull on her hoodie.
In her moment of distraction, I let my own attention wander. My gaze slips down her neck and across her collarbone to that neon yellow bra strap before traveling even lower. Her shirt looks so soft and—shit.I snap my eyes skyward when I notice her nipples have hardened from the chill outside.
“Sorry, what?” I swallow, willing my thoughts to stop spinning through a thousand ways I could warm her up.
“That creepy guy.”
“Right.” I remind myself not to get lumped into that same category, grateful when she zips up her hoodie—though I can’t help but notice the way it hugs her curves.
Caroline shrugs against the cold as she shoulders her gym bag once more. “Like, do you think he travels around town, moaning inappropriately everywhere he goes, or…?”
I rub the back of my neck. “I dunno. Yeah, maybe tomorrow he’ll be at a restaurant or some shit, alienating everyone with his foodgasms.”
Her eyes dance with amusement. “Just leaving abject horror in his wake.”
“Yeah, like some kind of… socially repellent motorboat.” I almost wince as the words leave my mouth.
Great. Impress her with some unhinged brain connection. Women love that.
She does that cute nose scrunch again and her full lips quirk with uncertainty.
Forcing myself to stop looking at her mouth, I remind myself I’m not trying to impress her. I shouldn’t still be flirting with her, even if my execution is a little rusty and she’s getting more verbal diarrhea than anything else.And I better not mentionmotorboatsagain if I’m gonna have any hope in hell of keeping my mind off her boobs.
Look anywhere else, dumbass.
“Uh, listen…” I lean in, dropping my voice slightly. “Didn’t mean to call youmy girlback in the gym. I wasn’t thinking. I just?—”
“No, no, it’s fine. Really. It was effective, right?”
“Yeah, I guess he backed down pretty fast,” I admit.
She rubs her arms, snagging my focus. Her hoodie looks warm and, like everything else she’s wearing, expensive.
Once again, I find myself hoping I’m not too scruffy in comparison. Probably should’ve shaved. My stubble is quickly approaching beard territory, and I’m starting to look like my fucking brother.
Another cold breeze sweeps past and, when Caroline shifts slightly, her gym bag slips off her shoulder.
Without thinking, I step toward her and gently set the strap back in place.
Those ocean eyes lift to mine as her lips part slightly, and her subtle, sweet scent—vanilla, maybe?—has me inhaling a bit longer, a bit deeper, like I might hold on to it.
For the second time in the last few minutes, I’m acutely aware of how close we’re standing. As I let my hand drop, my fingers lightly graze her arm.
Accidentally. Probably accidentally.
“Sorry,” I mumble, taking a step back, and rub my jaw.
“It’s okay. Thanks.” She brushes the spot where I touched her arm with her fingertips, then steps aside to let an old man pass between us on the narrow sidewalk. The interruption is insignificant, but it’s enough to snap us both out of whatever trance we’d fallen into. “Wait. Didn’t you say you had to get to work?”
