Hey, Lulu said there was a naked man seen leaving your studio late last night. I didn’t know what to say, so I told her you were taking painting classes from Riley Hutchinson and you were in the human anatomy unit. Call me!
Perfect answer, seeing as half of our artists in Songbird Ridge have been known to use nude models from time to time. In any other small town, this might be scandalous. To the gossips around here, that’s the most boring explanation ever.
The next text came seconds later, also from Skylar.
Skylar
Unit…see what I did there?
I snort and spit out my coffee.
As I’m recovering, the French doors open. Oliver is right on schedule. Great. I wince inwardly, embarrassed at how I must look.
“Shoot, I missed the first spit take of the morning,” Oliver says.
“I’m such a klutz,” I groan, reaching for the hand towel on the oven. Oliver reaches it first and dabs at the drips on my chin and my chest. It takes pains to avoid his eyes when he’s up this close, but my humiliation helps with that.
He looks so different from yesterday, when he was in jeans and a tee-shirt. Today, he wears a slim-fitting pima cotton shirt,amplifying his sexy collarbone with a slutty lace-up opening at the top. He’s paired it with casual linen pants that look dressy enough for a date or relaxed enough for a do-nothing kind of day. How does he do that? I had no idea he was good at dressing himself. And on top of that, he smells incredible. Freshly showered and like clean clothes, but also the slightest hint of a woodsy aftershave.
And me? I have coffee all over my favorite red dress.
“Here. Just dab it there. I don’t think the drips will even show up on that pretty dress,” he says.
“That’s a relief.”
My inner teenager feels fluttery from him calling my dress pretty. It’s somewhat cute at best, but comfortable enough to move around in and haul boxes. Not half as stylish as how Oliver looks right now. Nor half as sexy.
Oliver tugs at one of the straps hanging down from the knot at my waistline.
“Hey,” he says, pulling me close.
I feel fluttery all over as he gazes down at me, his piercing eyes playful.
“Hey,” I say.
“Good morning.” The greeting is all rumbly and sexy and so close that a woman in her right mind would push him away. But I don’t want to. Having this much virile man all up in my personal space does filthy things to my body. Instantly, my nipples harden.
“Good morning,” I say, unable to avoid looking at his lips, remembering how wildly he kissed me last night.
A faint smile crosses his face. “I wanted to tell you something I was thinking about this morning.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling a little worried. Is he going to tell me last night was a mistake? A one-off? Too fast?
“I think you got up in your head when we ended things, and I want you to know, last night was—” Oliver stops short when my phone rings.
Ended things? What does that mean?
Well, there’s no time to address that now. “It’s Skylar. I’d better get that.”
I answer. “Hey, Sky, I was just about to call you.”
“Great, just wanted to make sure you were up,” my friend says.
Oliver has not stepped away from me as I talk on the phone. In fact, his nose is nuzzling my neck.
“Yep. I’m up.”
Oliver murmurs against my throat, “Way up.”
