Red rushes toward me, forgetting about his towel and accidentally giving me a mighty big show I didn’t expect,nordid I need to see given the current state of my body and mind.
Even though IknowI should close my eyes or turn around to give him privacy, my brain doesn’t get the message. Probably because after checking him out, he’s now standing in front of me. Every naked inch of him.
My pulse roars in my ears and my body starts tingling from head to toe. As much as I know what Ishoulddo, I just can't do anything but stand there and stare.
“Shit, darlin’. You OK?” he asks, standing in front of me, his attention solely on me andnotthe fact he’s standing there as naked as the day he was born.
My cheeks burn but the concern that’s written all over his face seems to break through my shock.Thankfully. “I-I’m fine,” I stammer out. Clearing my throat, I quickly avert my eyes down to the mess at our feet before realizing my mistake, squeaking as I try to find somewhere…anywhereelse to look. “Um–you might want to–you know, grab your towel. You’re still–um…”
“What?” His eyes jerk down to his chest. “Shit. Sorry,” he rushes out, a slight blush on his face before he covers himself where it counts with both hands before backtracking to where the dropped towel is. He secures it again before returning to my side.Doesn’t help that I can still see him in my mind though…
Red’s hand reaches out to touch my arm lightly, sending an electric jolt through me that I can’t ignore. “Let’s see to your foot and then I’ll get this cleaned up,” he suggests, his voice low and husky as he leads me to a kitchen stool.
“My foot?” I ask before looking to the ground and seeing a small cut on my big toe. “Oh.”
His hands go to my hips and in the blink of an eye, I’m sitting on the kitchen counter, and he’s leaning in close to check my wound. “I think it’s OK,” I say. “Nothin’ a Band-Aid won’t fix.”
“Good. Good.” Red lifts his gaze to mine as if to make sure I’m OK.
“Red, I promise. I’m fine.”
He nods before he sets out to tidy up the mess, cleaning the broken dishes and spoiled food.
I sit there watching him do it, unable to unsee the parts of my best friend that I’d never seen before. I’m no prude, far from it, but surely he’s not supposed to lookthatgood. Or maybe it’s that I’m not supposed toknowhe looks that good naked. Or think about it.
All I can say is that for a man nearing fifty, he looks closer to forty with that body.
"Do you work out?" I ask, my brain and mouth still malfunctioning.
He chuckles and glances up with a twinkle in his eye. “Just the product of a lot of manual labor, darlin’. Life on the ranch keeps me in shape, I reckon.”
I nod, trying to focus on anything other than the image of him standing there so close to me with nothing but a towel on. "Well, it shows. Just so you know." I wave my hand in the air, gesturing to his body.
“Thanks. Glad you approve,” he says, sounding amused.
Having finished with the mess on the floor, he moves in the direction of the bathroom just as I decide to slide off the counter. “Don’t even think about movin’, Mags,” he calls out like he’s got eyes in the back of his head.
Of course I do what I’m told and stay put, watching him walk back into the kitchen with a first aid kit before he sees to my foot. His touch is gentle and sends shivers down my spine. All of a sudden my skin feels too tight, too hot. All of it is simply too much.
“I appreciate you takin’ care of me,” I mumble, feeling flustered under his watchful gaze.
When his eyes meet mine, there’s a warmth there that gets my heart pumping. “Always, Mags. You’re like family to me.”
Family. The word hangs in the air between us. Why am I feelinganythingbut right now? I’ve just seen my best friendnaked, and my body, my brain, myheartcan’t seem to forget.
I quickly stand up, needing some distance between us. “I’ll make some more breakfast for us while you get ready.”
“Are you OK?” he asks, sounding strange.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s just a scratch, that’s all.” I wave my hand over my shoulder, not trusting myself to look at him again. Not right now, anyway. “Maybe I need some more cowboy brew.”
“Let me get dressed and I’ll get right on makin’ you some.” His lips turn up and not for the first time in my life, I realize just how handsome he is. Except inthisinstance, Iamseeing him differently. A confusing new light that is messing with my brain.
“You do that,” I say, plastering a smile on my face. His eyes scan over me before he lifts his chin and disappears back into the bathroom to get dressed, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my chaotic thoughts.
The image of him standing there, so effortlessly attractive and completely unaware of the effect he had on me, refuses to leave my mind.
This isRed! I’ve never looked at him as anything other than my best friend. My rock. The man who’s at my side and who has had my back for years now. Why am I suddenly feeling like a hormonal teenager with a crush?Get it together, Mags.
