He has a gorgeous body, with tattoos covering his chest and arms. A gold chain is resting between his impressive pec muscles, sparkling in the sunlight.
His short hair makes his face more appealing, showing off all the angles and perfect symmetry, and his piercing dark blue eyes are framed with thick lashes.
My impression swerves fromhe’s so hot it’s hard to breathetowhat an absolute asshole,in two seconds flat.
“My car broke down. Taylor offered me a ride. Can you move? This stuff is heavy?” Jesse steps through the front door, making the half-naked asshole move out of the way.
I’m not a fan of bullies and worried about Jesse being around this guy. Without waiting for an invitation, I follow him into the house carrying the other two bags. Like I could take this guy if he started anything. He’s well over six feet and could likely bench press me with one hand.
“What are you doing?” he calls after me.
“Helping Jesse.” I don’t even bother to look back, following Jesse down the hall.
“You can’t barge in here.” The sound of the door slamming makes me flinch, but I don’t stop.
Jesse looks up as I come in, he eyes the man behind me and I expect there to be some trepidation, but if anything, there is an amused glint in his eye.
Shit, what have I walked into? I mean, how well do I really know Jesse? The other man storms into the room and comes around to face me. He glares at Jesse as I place the bags on the kitchen island.
“What the hell, Jesse? You can’t bring people in here like this.” He stares at me. For a moment he pauses, his eyes moving over my face, then down to my scrubs, and back up again.
Is he checking me out? He’s an even bigger asshole than I thought. He opens his mouth to say something else when a shout comesfrom behind him. A toddler wearing red shorts and an adorable teddy bear T-shirt is half crawling, half stumbling into the room.
“Dada, dada,” he is calling on repeat.
My head whips from Jesse back to the new guy. Which one of these men is this gorgeous little boy’s father? Jesse was in such a hurry to get back. This must be why. But Jesse doesn’t make a move towards the child, he carries on getting the groceries out of the bags.
The sharp, ‘fuck’muttered under the other guys’ breath, which is no way to talk in front of a small child, surprises me.He’shis dad? He scoops the kid up and sits his little butt on his forearm.
There is this famous image from decades ago that I remember seeing once. A topless man cradling a baby. This is different, in that this guy has an angry face and is covered in tattoos, and the kid looks to be about two rather than a newborn. But it’s painting one hell of a picture in my head.
Stop staring at his chest, for God’s sake. I’m looking at the tattoos, that’s all. He’s a living canvas, wrapped up in an angry, mean package. I keep my face carefully blank. This guy is probably used to women falling at his feet. Or men. I can’t forget this is the man who is making Jesse miserable.
The little boy laughs and slaps his face. I like this kid already, although the guy doesn’t even flinch. He is still throwing daggers with his eyes in my direction.
His expression does a complete one eighty when he talks to the kid.
“What do you need?” he asks.
“Gingerbees,” the kid says. A stern look from his father has him adding on a loudplease.
Jesse tosses a small, colorful packet of gingerbread men, which the man catches with one hand. It’s like they’ve been doing this for years.
Here I am ogling the guy and he’s with Jesse. The guy who is causing him no end of pain to the point it’s affecting his body. All I want to do is ask him why he is being such a jerk to the wonderful man behind me. What am I doing? I can’t think like this, let alone say it aloud.
“Why are you here?” he snaps.
I slowly turn to face him. He’s looking me up and down again, then turns to Jesse, a frown creasing his brow. Now he looks, concerned?
“I’ll let you know when the tow company arrives, Jesse,” I tell him, turning my back on the man. “Sorry if I caused any issues here,” I add quietly.
“Ignore him,” he smiles. “That is his permanent state of being.”
A quick glance back shows the man settling the boy in a playpen with his treats. He looks up and our eyes meet. The annoyance is back. Jeez, it’s not my fault. All I did was help a guy out.
“Thanks, Taylor. I’d have been totally screwed without you. I wouldn’t have got back in time,” he adds loudly enough that everyone in the room hears.
“Wait,” the other guy calls, storming back over.
