“We lived in apartments growing up.” Holly smirks, watching both kids taking turns with the hose. The chase has given way to a new game. “But my grandparents lived on a farm up in Oregon. Their sprinklers were the best.”
“I bet.” I turn toward Liz, waiting to hear what’s come to her mind.
“I don’t remember playing in a sprinkler.” She picks at a clump of mud still clinging to her pants. “Only time I played with the hose was to make water slides for Lena.”
“You’re kidding.” Not that it would be funny.
“Nope.” She shrugs, paying so much attention to a grass stain on her knee, I have to assume her level of disinterest is covering up for something. Something like hurt. And embarrassment.
“Well, it’s a good thing we made up for that today,” I nudge her, trying to get her to snap out of it. “Know what really makes the whole thing official?”
She looks up, one of her fingers absentmindedly still flicking at the stain. “What?”
I smirk. “This.” I tip my head in her direction and shake it with full force, sending the excess water from my hair straight at her face.
She lets out a squeal. Then before she can think to retaliate, I stop my shaking. “Now it’s official. You’ve played in a sprinkler.”
“You’re a jackass,” she hisses, wiping her face. But the grin she’s fighting to hold back takes any sting out of the insult.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LIZ
“Tell me again how you managed to remain clean and dry through that fiasco?” I ask, using a dishtowel—the easiest thing within reach—to absorb the first bit of water drenching my clothes and hair. If I can just get to the bathroom without dripping the entire way, I’ll be happy.
“I guess because the man with the charm and the muscles didn’t feel like wrapping himself around me to roll around in the mud.” Holly shrugs innocently before her expression turns feline.
I scowl. “Don’t be gross. I already have mud inside my bra. I don’t need anything else to feel disgusting about.”
“Right.” Holly nods, still smirking. “Disgust. That’s what you feel.”
I’m about to insist that it’s exactly what I feel when the door opens and Jovi walks inshirtlessand blows every argument to smithereens. Goddamn. I knew he had that tattoo on his arm, some dumb boys’ version of a friendship bracelet between him and Trent, but I had no idea about the mandala art sprawling from his chest over his left shoulder, spilling partially down his other arm and all across his back. And are those...nipple piercings? Not surprising, but annoyingly,infuriatingly, fucking hot.
I also hadn’t realized just how much fucking time the man must spend working out. I obviously knew his clothes fit him well, and his frequently exposed forearms certainly hinted at what lay beyond, but I never let my mind trail beyond the visible. Never cared to know. Never fucking dared to consider it.
“Kids are hosing each other off,” he says, running a hand over his head to catch the wet strands of hair that didn’t make it into the messy bun-meets-ponytail situation he threw most of his dirty-blond hair into. Irritatingly, this only makes him more attractive. “But they’re definitely going to need a bath.” His eyes land on mine and he grins. “You have something crawling on your head.”
“I do not.” I fight every instinct to reach for my head and shake out my hair in a panic. There’s no way I’m falling for this stupid prank.
“You do,” Holly adds, taking a step back as if the thing crawling on me might be prone to jumping.
“Are you serious?”
She nods. “It’s big. I think it was hiding in your braid.”
“Oh my God!” I start dancing nervously in place. I want the thing out of my hair, but I also don’t want it to move from my head to other parts of my body. “Get it off!”
Jovi’s hand curls around my elbow. “Hold still.” He chuckles softly as the other hand reaches for the top of my head and he uses his bare fingers to grab whatever creepy crawly beast was prowling around in my hair. “Got it.” In one smooth motion, he releases me and goes for the door, returning whatever was crawling on me back into the wild.
“Wanna know what it was?” he asks, coming back around to face me.
“No.” I wiggle my head back and forth, suddenly convinced I feel a hundred little legs moving across my scalp.
“Want me to check and make sure he didn’t have any friends?” He steps in closer, both hands moving for my head before I have a chance to answer.
“Yes, please.” I dip my chin toward my chest to give him better access. Not that he needs it. Standing this close to him it's impossible to miss how much he towers over me.
“I’m going to undo what’s left of your braid, okay?”
