Heath gestured broadly at his upper body, spurring him to look at himself more closely. He’d brought a couple of sun shirts knowing he’d end up burning, but while helpful, they weren’t infallible. Beneath the thin sage green material, he could tell his skin was a little pinker than at the start of the day. “Shit.”
Heath held out the bottle, and Evan grabbed it, this time being careful to avoid any accidental contact.
“You need a hand?”
“No, I’ve got it,” he grunted while peeling off the shirt.
The direct sun made his bare skin sizzle, but the sunscreen hit him like another of Heath’s tea towel concoctions. It was ice cold, having obviously traveled in one of the coolers, and he suspected Heath was responsible for that too.
“You really don’t.”
Evan shot him a scowl as he slathered up both of his arms, then his face, neck, and shoulders. His lower back wasn’t a problem, but the middle just wasn’t happening. With a sigh, he held the bottle back out.
“Fine.”
He scooted over to make room for Heath on his rock, letting his legs hang over the edges while he leaned forward to allow better access to his back. The first squirt of lotion hit his searing skin, and he stifled a groan. It felt really fucking good.
“You looked kind of freaked out on the boat. Everything okay?”
Heath had noticed? When? He hadn’t been aware he’d returned from below deck after their argument. Probably because of how freaked out he’d been.
“Let’s just say I have a checkered past with sailing.”
“You leave a boat in dry dock after a spirited regatta?”
Evan blew a raspberry against his own arm as a laugh burst free. “Kudos. That was good.”
Heathhmphedand Evan suppressed another moan as slick, chilly hands fanned across his back, over the tender places he’d failed to reach before.
Christ, it felt good. Not just the chill, but the touch. The lightest massage on muscles that hadn’t properly relaxed in years.`
“Did you sail often?”
“Not by choice.”
“Oh.”
He wanted to ask whether Heath had always been a fisherman, or if his life story was a well-stocked lake too tempting to ignore. After the way they’d left things on the boat, however, it seemed wise to shut up and be thankful they were speaking at all.
“My father had a boat a little bigger than Nate’s. He competed with a team for several years and wanted my brothers to take over when he got too old.”
“But you didn’t want to?”
A less mirthful laugh escaped. That was an understatement of the century. “It wasn’t really my thing, no.”
“Was your father disappointed?”
Only every fucking day of my life.“Not really. My brothers were better at it than I was. They took home a few trophies over the years.”
Evan sighed into the chill of the lotion across his ribcage, the press of Heath’s thumbs along the dip of his spine a splendid agony against the tender skin and the knotted muscles beneath.
He was good at this. Really fucking good, but saying so struck Evan as weird. Too personal. Too… intimate.
Was it because his first thought had been to consider how much dick Heath must get with such talented hands? Because Evan’s was having some considerations of its own.
“What’s your dad like?”
Evan’s own fingers dug into the indentations on the surface of the stone. What did he say to that? If he were honest, he’d probably have to elaborate. Did he want to have that conversation? Then again, if he lied and saidgreat,he might vomit himself to death.
