“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I laugh. “You’re kind of ridiculous, aren’t you, Zed?”
“I don’t know. Is ridiculous your thing, Grace?” He lifts one perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Does it turn you on?”
Still laughing, I sketch horns onto his head, eye the drawing and then flip the page to start a new one.
“So…” Apparently unperturbed by my lack of an answer, he asks, “Can I move?” At my nod, he stretches, the muscles straining and bunching with the grace of flowing water. “You know, seeing as how you’re a first-timer. I was thinking back to my first camp. I had to be sat down and given a talking to.”
“A talking to? Why?”
He blows a lazy raspberry, the sound muted by the thick leather. “I was such a prick. Shoulda been kicked out on the spot.”
“Ouch. What’d you do?”
“Butted in on someone’s scene. Tried to tell a guy his knots were crap.” His cheeks go high and round, making his eyes look impish. “Turns out he was literally the country’s best rope man. He took it in stride. The boss man did not.”
My pulse kicks up. “The Overlord?”
“Yeah.” My curiosity couldn’t be more piqued, but I keep my mouth shut, flip the page, and start another sketch, my hands moving before my brain recognizes the intention.
“We weren’t friends back then. He and his wife had just bought the place.”
My stomach clenches, hard. His wife? Oh, shit. For a second there, I was into a married man. I know all about polyamory, given Max and her multiple partners. Primary partners, secondary partners, play partners. Then the partners’ partners. It’s a mixed up ball of yarn that’s way too complicated for me.
Disappointment’s a lump in my throat.
“He was not impressed.” At my eyebrow raise, his smile deepens. “Bastard was scary.”
“So what happened?”
“He told me to fix my ways or I was out—for life.” He arches back into a stretch that’s so pretty, he’s surely doing it on purpose. “I groveled. And I got the hots for him—and the wife. They were really important to me. Helped me through some tough times.” He does another slow stretch, as languid as a cat in the sun. “I sort of forced him to become friends with me.” His eyes crinkle and I’ll bet there’s an evil grin under that mask. “Poor guy’ll never get rid of me now.”
Still a little wounded by the mention of Liev’s wife, I force out a laugh. Zed smiles, working hard to charm me. For what feels like ages, we loll in the sun, smelling the grass and the chlorine from the pool, with the light music of laughter and conversation all around us. It’s an easy silence and, though he’s clearly a flirt, I feel safe and calm with him. It doesn’t hurt that he’s a pleasure to draw.
After a while, he lowers his chin towards my pad. “You got a card or something?”
“What?”
“For the artwork. You’re really good.”
“Oh. No. It’s just doodling.”
“I try not to ask too many questions at camp, but…” One finely-muscled shoulder lifts. He leans in, takes a slow, sultry breath and whispers, “I don’t mind breaking my own rules.”
His eyes are pretty. His body’s…wow. And he’s trying, like, really, really hard, which I appreciate. And, yet, I feel nothing. I check in with my various parts. Not a flicker of interest.
“For example, I can tell you that I’m a very, very famous person.” He looks left and right, as if setting up a joke, or hiding from a crowd. “Deep under cover.” He shows me the bright yellow band on his wrist. No pictures, it means.
“Is that so?” Smiling, I start a new sketch, this time hinting at the nose he keeps hidden and the mouth I saw briefly a couple nights ago. If I can put the pieces together…
“Okay… Lemme guess what you do in real life.” His eyes glimmer as he leans back, probably purposely flexing his six pack, and looks me up and down. “You’re a mountain climber.”
“What?” I giggle. “No.”
“Supermodel.”
“Shut up.”
