Pulling up one single blind on the window, looking out toward the front lawn, I paused, let it drop, and then raised it again. At the same time I was doing this, goose bumps broke out along my spine.
Because on my lawn wasn’t a stranger, especially since he’d let me just about bawl my eyes out in front of him more than once. It also wasn’tjustDallas cutting my lawn like it was no big deal.
It was Dallas on my lawn with his shirt off, pushing his lawn mower.
It was Dallas on my lawn with his shirt off.
More goose bumps rose all over my body. He wasn’t sweating yet, but even that wouldn’t have made him more attractive than he looked in that moment. He didn’t need anything to look more attractive than he did right then and there. A thong or nudity was absolutely not necessary.
Because my eyes saw everything they needed to see; what they had last seen months ago. Everything they wouldeverneed to see. They took in the faint V-shape of muscle right where the elastic band to his sweat pants rested. They took in those cube-shaped, ridged muscles above his belly button that extended into neatly stacked rectangles. Then there were those shoulders that were just perfect. And those arms and forearms.
I loved forearms. Loved them. Especially his. I could even see the veins lining his from my window.
Most of all though, I took in every single inch of tattooed skin covering him. This was my payment for burning the shit out of my palm from the looks of it.
The brown ink I’d seen by his elbow was part of a wing that wrapped around his entire biceps, stretching out onto his chest. Right between his pectorals was the head and beak of an eagle. Another wing seemed to sweep around his opposite arm, almost a perfect mirror of the first one I’d seen.
God help me. The view was even better the second time around.
Was I going to go out there specifically to catch an up-close look of the details of the eagle’s wings? No way in hell.
But was I going to go out there to offer him a glass of water despite the fact he could easily walk across the street to get a drink from his own house? I damn well was.
For one brief moment, I thought about putting on something other than pajamas, but… what was the point? It would be obvious if I did, and despite him being a wonderful friend, person, and neighbor,he was married.Getting a divorce. Same thing.
And he’d disappeared for days somewhere.
There was no harm in using my eyeballs on him. Repeatedly. I just wouldn’t look at his butt or junk. That was crossing the line. Anything from the waist above was fair game, I reasoned.
Leaving my hair loose around my shoulders, I opened the door and stepped out just as he finished a pass down the lawn away from me, turning the mower at the last minute. I must have caught his attention immediately because he looked up from his focus on the grass to gaze at me, and I waved, smiling too wide at someone who wasn’t mine and couldn’t be.
When he didn’t shut off the machine, I made a drinking gesture toward my mouth and he shook his head.
Okay. What was I supposed to do now?
I watched him for a moment, noticing there was something different about him, but I couldn’t figure out what. His lawn mower was bagged, but he had to empty it out. By the time I heard the motor putter to a stop, I had already made it out to the shed to grab a couple of the big, black bags we used for the leaves and opened the gate that led to the front. Dallas was busy taking the bag off the back of the machine when I came up to him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, telling my eyeballs they better not backstab me right then and there by straying somewhere they had no business going.
“Morning,” he said in that low voice. “Did I wake you?”
“No.” I used my chin to point toward the bag in my hands. “I can hold it with one hand, can you pour and hold the other side of the bag, too?” He nodded and did it, setting the attachment back to the mower while I shook the clippings so they settled at the bottom. “So, can I ask what exactly you’re doing?”
“It’s called mowing a lawn,” he informed me, his attention still centered on the red-painted machine. “I’ve seen you do it before.”
And people thought of me as a smart-ass. “I’m being serious. What are you doing, Professor X? I was planning on laying a guilt trip on the boys so they would do it on their own.”
He eyed me with those golden-brown irises before focusing back on the trash bag in front of him. “I have hair,and your lawn needed mowing. Your hand is fucked. I just got back and don’t have any work scheduled for today.”
“You didn’t have to do anything—”
He stood up to his full height and stared me down. “Accept the help, Diana.”
I blew out a breath and kept watching him, still trying to see why he looked different.
He crossed his arms over his chest, and it took every single ounce of strength I had to not glance at the eagle head. “Is it everyone or just from me?”
Pinching my lips together, I brought my hand to my chest and watched as he glanced at it. I’d swear a tendon in his neck popped. But I told him the truth. “You, mostly. I don’t want to take advantage of you. I’m not shy about asking for things.”
