I pull my hand away, like I was shocked, because that’s exactly how it felt. Stepping back, I glance over to Wade. His body is stalled and his eyes are bouncing back and forth between the two of us.
I clear my throat and decide the only way to cut through the awkward tension in the room is to talk my way out of it.
I open my mouth to share all the details of the donated items when a third voice, a familiar voice, floats through the room.
“Pumpkin?”
CHAPTER 3
GIRLMATH: WHEN HE HAS SALT AND PEPPER HAIR AND BLACK RIMMED GLASSES, AGE AIN’T NOTHING BUT A NUMBER
ABBY
My eyes widen at the easily recognizable voice and the distinct nickname that’s been on repeat in my head for the last few weeks.
My neck swivels slowly in the direction of where the voice came from, and there he is standing in the threshold of the room, sans all clothing.
One towel hangs low on his waist, while another is draped over his shoulders as he massages one side of it into his damp, dirty blonde hair. His body still drips with beadlets of water as he stands there barefoot and beautiful.
I trace the inked art over his chest and arms that decorate most of his upper body. His abs flex with the movement of his arms and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from appraising the lines of his gorgeous muscles and vibrant tattoos.
“Oh my god,” trails out from my lips as a whisper. Mostly because I’m shocked to see him, but also because he looks like he’s sculpted from the Gods.
“What are you doing here?” he asks with a flirty, pleased tone, making me rip my gaze from his washboard V line, up to his bright ocean blue eyes.
“You know her?” Major asks, pointing at me.
“Yeah…Well sort of, we met a couple weeks ago but I never got her name,” he replies with what looks like his signature flirtatious smile.
“What’s with you kids these days not introducing yourselves to people?” Major looks between the two men, clearly not kids, but both much younger than he is.
I glance over at Wade who’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, unimpressed with this entire encounter. He releases his arms and goes back to unloading the box, shaking his head with a hefty eye roll.
Geez, he’s so grumpy.
“Abby.” Major holds his hand out to me, then displays the other toward the still naked man dressed in only terry cloth. “Jasper. Jasper, Abby.” His eyes bounce between the two of us. “See, not that hard, right?” He smirks then joins Wade who’s pulling the brand new espresso machine out of its box.
Jasper steps into the room, obviously very comfortable in his minimalist ensemble.
“Hey, pumpkin,” he whispers loud enough for only me to hear.
That makes me chuckle out a smile.
“Hey,” I reply.
“You didn’t come back.”
“I did, actually.” I wince at my instant reply. I should act cool, uninterested, like I never went back.
His brows pinch in confusion.
“You were already gone.” I tuck a rebel hair behind my ear, my nerves on full display as I dip my head down to stare at my feet.
He crooks his finger and places it under my chin, lifting my gaze back up to his.
His lips part but before he can say anything Wade’s voice, the one who practiced mutism when we were alone in the room, tears us out of our trance.
“Get some clothes on.” His tone is laced with disgust.
