Page 8 of Erik's Salvation
“Well, hello there. You’re a bit sexy. And a bit scary.”
Hannah’s lips quirked at Brigid’s words. She and Henry stood at the kitchen window, ogling Erik like he was a piece of meat as he did pull-ups on the tall bar he’d cemented into the ground beside his house.
She shoved a piece of celery into the juicer with a bit more force than she should have. “He’s out there every morning.”
Every. Freaking. Morning. And always shirtless despite the cold, sweat dripping down his chest as if he’d just been dunked in oil.
It was torture. It was like a piece of cake being put in front of a starving victim. Yes, she was the starving victim. She hadn’t dated in an entire year, and now this gorgeous jerk of a man had moved in next door.
She looked out the window for what had to be the third time that morning.Jesus. His abdomen rippled on every pull-up.
“Oh. My. Lord.” Henry started to fan himself like he was moments from passing out, while Brigid seemed to be salivating.
For a second, Hannah paused on the celery and watched his six-pack glisten with beads of sweat. Something fluttered in her lady parts.
God, get a grip, Hannah. He’s just a man.
She’d tried talking to him a couple of times since that fun littledon’t trespassconversation. And, nope, he did not warm up. There had been no smiles. No laughs at her funny little jokes. In fact, he’d looked like he couldn’t wait to get away from her.
“Shame the man’s about as cheery as a snake.” She pushed in another piece of celery, the machine chewing it away to liquid. “I miss Stanley.”
Liar.Watching this man go for his shirtless morning run and finish with a series of pull-ups and sit-ups had become an obsession. One she absolutely would not be telling anyone about, especially her nosy, loudmouthed best friends.
“Moody men aren’t that bad,” Brigid said quietly, eyes stuck to the kitchen window like there was a three-part play happening. “As long as they’re good in bed, the man can talk or not talk.”
Typical. “James still holding out?”
“No, we did it six ways to Sunday last night.”
Hannah pulled a face, trying to delete that little image from her long-term memory.
“But James’s body doesn’t look likethat,” Henry cut in.
Now Henry was salivating.
Another stick of celery into the juicer.
Hannah shook her head. She loved her friends, she really did, but they were not helping.
She’d met Brigid through James, and after the woman had introduced her to Henry, the three of them had been inseparable. Brigid was the pretty one. Huge brown eyes. Thick red hair that ran down her back, with breasts and hips men fantasized about.
Basically, she was gorgeous, and she knew it. And even though she joked about Erik, Hannah knew she was completely devoted to James.
Henry was cute, with his hard jaw and short brown hair. He had a nice tan from working as a building contractor and the muscles to go with it.
When the last piece of celery was liquified by the machine, she lifted the jug and split the juice between three cups before handing two of them to her friends. She literally had to jam the glasses into their hands because their entire attention remained outside.
Before drinking hers, she opened a drawer and pulled out her glucose monitor and test strips. After pricking her finger, she placed a drop of blood onto the strip. Her friends had seen her test her glucose so many times they didn’t bat an eye. Not that they were looking at her right now.
The number came up and she put away her kit before a quick glance over their heads told her Erik was up to the hanging sit-ups—simultaneously her favorite and most hated part.
“You know,” Brigid said suggestively, “he could have set up his little workout area on the other side of the house. It’s almost like hewantsyou to watch him.”
Henry smirked. “Thank you, Mr. Hunter.”
“Don’t call him that,” Hannah said quickly. “Mr. Hunter is Stanley. That guy is…something else. And no, he probably couldn’t cement it into the ground on the other side or something.”
That sounded reasonable, right?
