And yet, I was still studying his exposed backside as if there was an anatomy quiz in myfuture.
But no, there wouldn't be anything anatomical going on with this guy. No, notat all. He was gangly, all long limbs and broad, tanned shoulders and hands like bear paws. Dark hair, thick and wavy. Bright, expressive eyes that weren't simply blue but sapphire. He was a young one, too. He was still growing into that body. And what a body it was. But he had a Batman tramp stamp, for fuck's sake. There was no quicker way of announcing one's man-child statusthanthat.
I'd put money on him being a player. Oh, but he'd play hard. He'd play towin. I couldn't explain how I knew that but Iknew. He was the kind of guy—with his lower back tattoo and forceful statement about cellars and objectively awful laceration—who'd throw down in a seedy bar because someone looked at a woman the wrong way. But he'd have to be trained. He probably ate pussy like a dog drank water, all unmeasured tongue flapping and asoggymess.
Then he opened his mouth. "Only if Gastro Girl candoit."
"Don't fucking call me that," I snapped, balling my non-latex gloves and depositing them in the trash with more force than necessary. I was in a slammy-bangy-yelly mood. There were a lot of people on my short list for a throat punchtoday.
"Okay," he said, smiling at me likeAll you had to do was ask so why get all worked up? "It's Alex,right?"
I jerked my head in some semblance of a nod. "Yeah,"Isaid.
I crossed my arms over my chest but then my boobs were popping out of my sleeveless shirt like it was time for the annual melon festival. I resorted to my default pose, the one my male colleagues could pull off all damn day but screamed "raging bitch" on me—hands onthehips.
If the broomstick fits,rideit.
I glanced at him briefly, not one hundred percent certain I could deal with the entirety of his tall-broad-rippled-tanned-gorgeous. That kind of smile with those kinds of abs? It was like staring straight at the sun. There was no way I could deal with this muchmanwithout resenting him for existing. They weren't supposed to be this perfect. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caughtyourname."
"Riley,"hesaid.
"Listen, people," Nick said, waving a hand between us. "Let's speed this along, shall we? There's meat on the grill and I'm more concerned with that than who jabs Walsh with atetanus."
I held my hand out for the syringe. "You invite me to dinner," I said to Nick, steering Riley back to the stool so I could reach his damn delt without getting on my tiptoes. His shorts were still around his ankles and his boxers nudged down enough for a girl to dream, but I wasn't getting lost in those details. "And the second I get here, you put me to work. What kind of dinner partyisthis?"
"You're getting off easy," Riley said. There was no exaggeration about the rough, intentional waygetting offsounded, or how it went straight to my nipples. Stupid nipples. Those damn things didn't know when to stand down. "The last time I was here, these two had me repaving thedriveway."
"That isn't what happened at all," Erin said, wagging a large spoon at him while I wiped an antiseptic swab over his arm. "You tripped on a crack, and then announced you were getting a jackhammer and pouring concrete. That was allyou,kid."
I tapped his shoulder. It was finely sculpted granite. "Relax your arm." With the syringe cap between my teeth, I said, "Quick pinch, a little burn, thenwe'redone."
He dropped his chin to his chest. "I'm painting that door so fucking pink," hemurmured.
"What are you babbling about now?" Erinasked.
She was busy filling small bowls with tomatoes, cheese, and lettuce. My stomach growled at the sight of avocado. I could exist on avocado alone. Well, avocado and eggs. And chocolate. And toast. Okay, so notjustavocado but closeenough.
"Nothing important," Riley said, turning his head to glance back at me. Those cheekbones. They didn't even look real. "Someone'shungry."
I pressed a small square of gauze to the injection site. "Yeah, well, I haven't had a minute to eat since six this morning,"Isaid.
The deck door slid open, and Nick appeared with a long pair of stainless steel tongs and a platter loaded with the carne asada he'd promised for this shindig. My stomach rumbledagain.
Nick's gaze pinged between me and the arm I wasstillrubbing, and he did a poor job of stifling his amusement. "Tetanus shots hurt," I snapped.Nope. Not at alldefensive.
"Right," Nick said with a snicker. He pointed at the owner of that arm. "You're sitting in my kitchen with your ass hanging out, dude. I think it's time to pull up those pants. Maybe get you a shirt, too. What do youthink?"
Riley tossed up his hands. "We're all friends here," he replied as he stood and yanked up hisshorts.
The pale skin of his backside disappeared beneath black boxer briefs, but not before I snapped enough mental pictures to keep me warm at night. Those pictures were going to have to do it for me because I was on a strict man-free diet. It'd started out as a thirty-day cleanse and now, fifteen months later, it was a lifestylechoice.
Honestly, it was better this way. Men were distractions. Men were drama. I didn't have room for any of that in my life right now, and there was nothing men could give me that I couldn't give myself. Orgasmsincluded.
"Yeah," Nick called as he headed toward the staircase. "And friends tell friends to pull up their damnpants."
Erin pressed her fingertips to her lips as she shook her head and laughed silently. "All right," she said. "This is not how I expected this evening to go. I hadn't planned on any kitchen surgeries or bare asses at my dinner party." She glanced from me to Riley. "I guess Ishouldhave."
* * *
