Not even for an instant. I was sporting ten boners a day. That had to be a record at my age. And I hadn't hung out with any of the club girls, either, even though they always offered. I knew they wouldn't be able to scratch this particular giant itch.
Only Claire could.
So I worked on my bike. And my other bike. And I did maintenance to the front of the house.
It's not like I could just sit out front in a lawn chair with a beer and a bag of popcorn, waiting for Claire to come out and put on a show.
I grinned. It wasn't such a bad idea, actually. I wondered what Little Miss Short Shorts would say about that. Probably a lot. Claire was very sure of her own opinions, among other things, something I found frustrating and exciting. I had figured out a lot about her over the past ten days.
First of all, she had at least three pairs of those tiny little denim cutoffs. I knew. I was counting them.
I wasn't a religious man, but I thanked God every day this week that it was still so unseasonably warm out.
Claire definitely did not have a boyfriend either, I decided. Nobody who was that pent up was getting laid. I liked that about her. I liked it a lot.
I'd be more than happy to be the one to help her unwind.
It took less than twenty-four hours after meeting her for me to give in and stop fighting the insane attraction I felt for my prissy little neighbor.
Prissy, uptight, and priggish.
Damn, though. The girl was fine.
And come hell or high water, she was going to be mine.
I waited under the bike long enough for her to swish back this way. I wanted to have a second look. She was wearing a different T-shirt today. This one was really old and worn-in, making it nearly see-through. Probably hadn't done laundry in a while, what with the big test she was studying for.
She was a hard ass worker, there was no doubt about that. I respected the fuck out of that. She would make a good old lady. You had to be smart and on top of your shit, especially since I was second in command.
I felt my mouth go dry thinking about how soft that shirt must be. I'd love to get my hands on it. To feel her luscious tits through the shirt, maybe tease her a little before I slowly lifted it over her head.
"Hunter!"
I sat up sharply, banging my head on the underside of the bike.
My sweet neighbor Ellie was on her stoop waving something at me. Breakfast, it looked like. I grinned and waved her over. I couldn't stand up at the moment without showing off the giant tent in front of my pants.
I saw Claire walk inside from the corner of my eye.
Damn, now I had to wait a whole day to watch her fine ass walk away from me again. Claire had given new meaning to the expression ‘I hate to see you go but I love to watch you leave.’
Boy, did I ever.
It was a good thing those muffins were so good. It was almost worth missing those legs sauntering by.
Almost.
Chapter Eight
Claire
I adjusted the strap of my bikini top and pushed my hair out of my eyes. An ant crawled across the textbook. I let it be. I was so tired of reading that I could barely think, but since I had already highlighted this section, I was just reviewing and trying to memorize the key points.
My test was coming up fast, and I barely saw the light of day other than during my daily walks.
But today was unseasonably warm, I was pasty, and Gran’s backyard had been calling. I had found some old tanning oil that smelled faintly of coconut and was lying out in the sun, trying to get some vitamin D while studying.
I finished reading the chapter for the fourth time and reached for the edge of the blanket. It was warm in the sun but still a little chilly. My butt was getting cold.
“Don’t cover up on my account,” a deep voice rumbled from behind me. I turned over and sat up, yanking the blanket over my legs. Hunter stood there, a warm smile on his face. Not warm.
His smile was blazing.
“What are you doing here?”
“Fixing a couple of things in exchange for a hot meal,” he said with a wink. I frowned. He was holding a ladder and a toolbox. And Gran did have a couple of loose shutters back here, along with an old wooden picket fence that was falling down under the weight of the ancient climbing roses.
I shrugged, trying not to act ridiculous. The man made me feel like he was giving up his afternoon just for the chance to see me. That was before I noticed which way his eyes were traveling. He was leering at my legs . . . through the blanket!
I wrapped myself up and gathered my books.
“Fine. I’ll study inside.”
“But it’s a beautiful day,” he said with a frown. Like he cared. I was starting to think he just liked messing with me.
“It’s fine.”
“I can work out front first,” he said, looking almost guilty. “I don’t want you to miss the sunshine.”
I stopped short. I was chasing the man away like some sort of shrew. Maybe he really was just here to help Gran out.
“I’ll stay. I just need to pop inside and put some clothes on.”
“Pity,” he said with a wide smile.
I hurried inside and slipped on a pair of jean shorts. I threw a button-down over my bikini top for good measure. I glared at my reflection. I was being rude to Hunter for no reason and I was ashamed of myself. Not all men are dogs, I told myself. At least, not all the time, I amended. Gran handed me a tray with a pitcher of lemonade as I passed back through the kitchen.
“Be nice,” she said with a wink.
I nodded dutifully and took the tray, using my hip to nudge the screen door open. I stepped out into the sunshine and stared.
Hunter was on the ladder, reaching up to clear the gutter. I swallowed, unable to ignore the way his shirt lifted, exposing a flat stomach covered in dark hair. It was the first time I’d seen him without his leather jacket on, I realized. I couldn’t look away from the way his body moved under the thin cotton shirt. I could see everything.
And it was magnificent.
Dark ink swirled over his arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his worn-in looking black T-shirt. His skin was swarthy and smooth. He looked . . .
“Is that for me?” I heard a teasing voice ask. My eyes snapped to his face. Hunter looked pleased. Smug, even. He’d clearly caught me gawking at him and was as pleased as punch. I arched an eyebrow and covered my embarrassment with attitude. It was pretty much my go-to these days.
“Gran thought you might be thirsty. She made it from scratch herself,” I added, making sure he didn’t get too full of himself.
He climbed off the ladder, and I made sure I was not looking at his admittedly gorgeous body. I stared at his boots instead. Rough and worn-in, but well-made and well cared for.
Kind of like him.
His fingers brushed mine where I held the tray, and I lifted my startled eyes to his. That simple touch had done something to me. I could feel it from head to toe.
And he knew it, too.
He didn’t look smug, though. He looked as surprised as I was. He made a low sound of approval as he stared down at me. The man was even bigger up close.
It should have been intimidating. But it wasn’t. Instead I felt . . . safe.
I watched him lift the glass to his lips and drink. I watched his throat move as he swallowed. I watched his fingers grip the glass as it sweated cool drops that ran down the back of his hand.