Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I can’t even speak for a moment, he looks so good. My god, his chest. I’ve caught glimpses of it from the way he likes to wear his shirts open, but the full view is—my god, I should have been warned.
I try to avoid looking directly at him as I tell him I’m fine. When he asks about Goldfish and crouches down to pet him, I also try really hard not to notice how broad his back is, but I’m not strong enough to look away.
My body is also taking notice, much as I might try to deny it. I give thanks that I’m wearing a well-lined bra, because my nipples are also responding to what I’m seeing.
The sound of a door opening draws my attention toward the back of the house, and then Wyatt joins us. “Stella, good to see you. Everything okay?” His gaze shifts to where Cam is still petting the dog.
“Everything’s fine. I just came by to drop off a package of yours that was delivered to my house by mistake.”
“You could’ve called and I would have come to pick it up, but thank you,” he says.
“We needed to walk, anyway.” I glance down at Goldfish, then peel my eyes away from Cam when they get stuck.
Wyatt’s looking pretty compelling himself, in shorts and a loose tank top. There are smudges of dirt on his arms and legs, and he’s wearing a ball cap backward. He looks so young, yet also so much like a man. It’s kind of confusing.
Cam stands and crosses his arms in front of him, which only makes his biceps bulge further. Speaking of bulges, I may or may not have seen one under his towel, and my cheeks feel like they’re flaming. I want to look again to confirm what I think I saw, but I won’t let myself.
Meanwhile, Trish appears to be unfazed by Cam standing there in a towel, and Cam seems completely at ease.
“Well, I’m glad you came by, because it’s always nice to see you,” Wyatt says, making this sound like much more than a pleasantry. The way he’s looking at me isn’t helping the state of my cheeks.
“I’d better get home. I need to get back to work,” I say.
“It was nice to meet you, Stella,” Trish says, also waving goodbye to Goldfish.
Cam opens the door for me, and his bare arm with all its dark hair is so distracting that I almost trip as I leave. “Hope to see you again soon,” he says. “Stop by anytime.”
When he notices the women standing out front, he waves to them.
“Don’t encourage them, or they’ll never leave,” Trish tells him.
Out on the sidewalk, the women pepper me with questions: “Was that Cam in a towel? My favorite videos are the ones where he’s in a towel.” “Was Wyatt there too?” “Did you take any pictures?”
“I’m just a neighbor,” I tell them as I hurry on by.
CHAPTER 12
STELLA
One night the following week, I’m in the back yard after Jessie goes to sleep. It’s warm out, and I want to relax for a few minutes before I go to bed myself.
Marissa’s inside, listening to a crime podcast while she folds a massive pile of laundry. She waits until she’s nearly out of things to wear and then does a huge load all at once.
Goldfish was outside with me sniffing around a bit, but he got bored and asked to go back inside with Marissa.
I’m curled in the loveseat that’s on the back patio, listening to music on my phone and playing a mindless matching game while I enjoy the way the light breeze feels on my skin.
“Hello,” comes a voice out of the darkness.
I startle and look around, finally spotting the top of a head just over the back fence. The thick tousled hair is unmistakable, even in the darkness, though the nearly full moon helps me see his face when his eyes appear.
“Wyatt?”
“Hi, Stella. How’s it going?”
I walk over toward the fence. “Just enjoying the lovely night. How about you?”
“I was taking out the trash and thought I heard music from your yard.”
“Oh, sorry. I thought I had the volume down low enough.”
“You do, I just have good hearing. How was your day?”
“It was fine. The usual. What did you guys do? Build a pillow fort?” I’m mostly talking to the wooden fence, but if I shift to the side, I can catch a glimpse of him between the slats.
His laughter is a deep rumble. “No, but that’s a great idea. Our viewers would probably really like that.”
“I’m really confused about who your target audience is,” I admit.
“Sometimes I am, too,” he says, sounding rueful.
“What’s your channel name?”
“It’s kind of dumb. We were much younger when he picked the name.”
“What is it?” It feels like we’re sharing secrets out here in the dark.