I turn the lights out in the kitchen, and as I walk past the window that faces Bubble’s cabin, I can’t help but look in that direction.
His curtains are drawn back, and while his lights seem to be off, he must have some kind of smaller lamp, or maybe it’s the glow from the fireplace.
He’s lit from beneath, and he’s dancing.
I’m frozen in place as I watch him move gracefully. He’s wearing a tiny top that shows his abs and the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen. On a woman, I’d call them hot pants. But is that the same for men?
Suddenly, he grabs a hat out of nowhere and does some tricks with it before it ends up on his head, and then there’s a chair. I don’t know where it came from.
He stops, and I think he sees me, but he seems to be talking to someone.
He said he had a job. What kind of job?
I don’t even want to think. He waves at something, and then the chair and the hat are gone.
A moment later, he’s moving again, this time at a slower pace. He raises his arms above his head, twirling his hands.
It’s so fucking sensual. One hand runs slowly down Bubble’s arm toward the back of his neck before passing over his mouth. I see his lips follow the trail of his fingers.
He moves to the beat of whatever he’s listening to, lost in his own world.
There’s no doubt he’s a man. For starters, there are no breasts. But he doesn’t lack in lines or curves. His stomach is tight, just as you’d expect from an athlete, but when he turns around, there’s an unmistakable curve leading to a round and very perfect ass.
I run my hand over my head. Why am I reacting to him? Is it because he’s an artist? A dancer? Or is ithim?
I’ve never looked at a man and thought about how sexy he is. Though in the past, whenever Mel commented on some of her favorite actors on TV, I couldn’t deny they were attractive men.
Fuck, I’m too tired and horny. I haven’t had sex with anything other than my right hand in over a year. My brain is fried, and Bubble’s strawberry perfume probably has some kind of pheromone power mix.
In my semi-freaked-out state, I don’t realize Bubble has stopped dancing and is staring at me through his window.
Naturally, my reaction is to drop to the floor, escape to the bedroom on my knees, and pretend this never happened.
10
BUBBLE
“Good morning,sky. Good morning, sunshine. Good morning, birds outside. Good morning, snow on the trees…hmm…” I stretch under the covers like a cat and burrow again into my fluffy warm world.
I look at the clock, but it’s too early in LA to call Juju to tell her I caught Coach staring at me last night. Damn time zones.
“Okay, world, what shall we do today? Apart from being uh-mazing, of course?”
I get up from the bed and straighten the covers. There’s an extra spring in my step, and nothing will burst Bubble’s bubble today.
With Juju arriving tomorrow, I double-check that her room is ready for her. I’ve been turning on the electric fireplace in that room for two hours each day so it gets acclimated to the rest of the house. I know all too well how much colder the cold feels when you’re not used to it.
I prepare a bowl of yogurt with my favorite granola and a cup of coffee before scrolling through the news on my phone.
There are some emails from the school and the kids sending pictures of the things they’re getting up to over the Christmas break.
I head to the large double doors facing the lake and snap a few photos to send back as my replies.
Once I finish breakfast, I wrap up warm and go for a walk. There’s fresh snow on the ground, but it should be okay as long as I don’t go too far from the cabin.
I debate for a moment about asking Coach if he wants to come with me, but something tells me he’s still hiding from me.
The path along the lake is well marked, and from the foot and paw prints, I can see it’s already been well used this morning.
