Page 10 of Bragg's Match

“Go on.” He shoos me toward the house. “I’ll load up while you get dressed.”

Get dressed? I glance down at myself and realize I’m standing outside wearing a t-shirt and panties. No shoes. No pants. No bra. No bra? Eek! I cross my arms over my chest. Guessing by the smirk on Brody’s face, I’m too late. Damnit. It’s not my fault, it’s cool outside this morning.

“Be careful or you’ll learn firsthand exactly how hot my pottery kiln can get.”

He salutes me. “Aye, aye, captain.”

I dress as quickly as I can in my ‘uniform’ aka overalls on top of a t-shirt and a pair of Crocs. Yeah. Yeah. Crocs are ugly. They’re also the most comfortable footwear in existence if you’re on your feet all day.

I’m still putting my hair into a messy bun as I hurry outside to check on Brody’s progress. I swear if he breaks another piece of my pottery, I will kick his ass out of my house. I don’t care if he has nowhere else to go. Why is he my problem?

My mouth drops open when I enter my shed. All of the crates with my pottery are gone.

“I finished loading up the crates into the bed of the truck. I figure if we drive real slow, they’ll be fine.”

Brody pulls his t-shirt up to wipe his brow and I forget about whatever he’s saying. I wasn’t imagining things the other day. Brody Bragg has a chest sculptors search their entire lives for.

I’ve never sculpted a thing in my life, but I wouldn’t mind using Brody as my test subject. Of course, I’d have to touch all of those muscles first to verify they’re real and as hard as they appear.

“Earth to Soleil.”

Brody snaps his fingers in front of my face and I whip my head up.

“What?”

“See something you want?” He smirks.

I’m not admitting to anything. Instead, I narrow my eyes on him and feign being annoyed. “You better not get sweat on my pottery.”

My pottery can handle sweat perfectly fine. I, on the other hand, am about to combust from imagining how it feels to have Brody’s sweaty body gliding against mine.

He grasps the hem of his t-shirt. “No worries. I’ll change.” He starts to lift the shirt.

“Stop!” I yell. “You’re fine.”

He winks. “I’m glad you think so.”

I roll my eyes. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

He waggles his eyebrows. “I know other things that are thick.”

Without my permission, my gaze drops to his crotch. Is he thick down there?

No. No. No. Stop this, Soleil.He’s too young for you and needs someone to take care of him.

I check my watch. “We should get going.”

He chuckles as he places his hand on my lower back and ushers me to the passenger side of the truck. “I like your invisible watch.”

At his words, I forget all about the tingling on my back from his touch and glance at my wrist. No watch. I forgot to put it on.

“Whatever,” I mumble as he opens the passenger door for me.

“Do you need a lift, pixie?”

I glare at him. I hate being reminded of my height deficiency. “I’m fine.”

“You most certainly are.”

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