Evans? I’m guessing that’s his last name.
He must be part of the brotherhood of frogmen.
I stare at my phone, trying and failing not to fixate on the tiny, mildly terrifying fact that I’m about to crash at a strange man’s house.
Not that he’s strange. Just… a stranger. Though Gabe and Mama trust him, so statistically speaking, how unhinged can he be?
Probably not axe murderer level. But what if he’s a slob? Or a vegan? I’ll never be able to properly thank him for his hospitality with my cooking.
Knowing Gabe and his brothers in arms, he probably lives on zero sugar and spends his non-working hours at the gym.
A vision of a sculpted chest and carved abs flashes through my head. Gabe showed me exactly one photo from their deployment. The man had just unzipped a form-fitting wetsuit.
His cap and goggles were still on, so his face was blurred. But there was just something about him…
Anonymous.
Dangerous.
My brain promptly filled in all the blanks.
That man could be my personal slip and slide any day.
Who said that?
I shove aside every last inappropriate thought.
Ugh. Get a grip.
Yes, it’s been dry as the Sahara, but any friend of Gabe’s is a friend off-limits. Permanently.
I know my brother. He runs with the alpha stallions of the player circuit. And if I wanted a player, there are plenty to choose from back home.
Los Angeles. The fuckboy capital of the world.
My stomach tightens at the thought of home.
Or maybe it’s the thought of a brick house bodyguard at my beck and call.
No. No. No.
I’ve already learned that lesson. The hard way.
Besides, it’s not like my chronically overprotective big brother would ever send me into a lion’s den. He absolutely trusts the guy.
Which means he must be safe.
Or celibate.
Or gay.
My fingers strum along the armrest. It’s not like I have a choice.
I let out a breath, deflated. I need to be somewhere off the radar. Somewhere no one will find me. And Gabe’s place is definitely out.
A black light and a little Luminol, and his condo would light up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
A Bad Bunny son blasts through my phone, mid-booty anthem.
