Page 50 of Mountain Grump
Her thick, juicy ass.
Her ass that’s wrapped in shorts so formfitting they might as well be painted on.
I squeeze the dumbbells even tighter.
Her top half is draped in a giant shirt, and if it wasn’t bunched at the top swell of her ass, it would probably cover her lush cheeks.
But it is bunched up. And the bright blue material of her shorts is basically a beacon for my attention. A neon light for the moth that runs my brain.
I close my eyes and do another three reps. But the image of her is still there, taped to the back of my eyelids.
I can still see her long lilac braid as it caresses her spine.
I can still see her bobbing her head along with the music playing in her headphones.
I can still feel her hair between my fingers. Can still feel her hands against my sides.
I open my eyes.
I should talk to her.
Lowering my weights, I set them on the ground in front of me and pull in deep breaths as I stand.
I can’t talk to her.
I sit back down.
What would I say? It’s not like I can tell her what to wear. I learned that didn’t work when I was nineteen and in charge of my twelve-year-old sister.
And maybe these damn shortsarebetter than a dress. Because knowing Tilda, she’d find a way to fall and flash her panties to everyone.
I grit my teeth.
The real problem is that I don’t want anyone else looking at her. End of story.
I close my eyes again and roll out my shoulders while I focus on slowing my breathing.
I’ll just walk over there and see how she’s doing. See how the kiddie pool set up went.
But maybe she’s ignoring me and doesn’t want me to talk to her.
Tilda got here just after I did. I’d just started a set of squats, looked over, and spotted her walking through the front door.
I looked right at her. Didn’t try to act sneaky about it at all. But she looked right past me.
Or pretended not to see me.
Either way, she didn’t acknowledge me. She also didn’t stop at the cubbies. Didn’t go to the bathroom. Just walked right to the first treadmill, put her headphones on, hung her purse from the handle of the machine, and started walking.
It was an impressive display of confidence, considering I’m positive she’s never been in here before.
As my pulse finally returns to normal, I wonder if she somehow didn’t notice my truck in the lot when she parked. There were only a handful of other vehicles, so the ranger truck shouldn’t be hard to miss. But I’ve also managed to sneak up on Tilda three times in a row without even trying.
I open my eyes.
I’m going to talk to her.
My eyes scan the mirror.
