Those brown eyes widen in surprise, and my heart races as his gaze locks on mine. Time seems to slow while we stare at one another, neither of us saying anything.
Matthew was always tall for his age, but he’s grown even more since I last saw him. He towers over me a good foot now. His shoulders are broader. His skin is golden, as if he spendstime outdoors on the regular. His muscles are well-defined with drool-worthy washboard abs that come straight from the cover of a smutty romance novel, along with a deep V that leads straight to the waistband of his jeans that are molded to his strong legs.
“Trouble.”
His low, gravelly voice sends a shiver down my spine.
My head snaps up, and I can feel the heat rising up my neck at being caught checking him out, and yet, I can’tnotlook.
His hair is shorter, rich brown locks equally as messy as before. The lines of his face are leaner, jaw sharper, and those piercing brown eyes… They’re as devastating as they were when we were teenagers, pulling me in and not letting go.
“Don’t call me that.” My words are barely a whisper, but they slice through the air.
My heart is beating wildly inside my chest as we just stare at one another, the memories from four years ago coming back to the surface.
Searching for him in the school hallways. Watching him play on the football field. The way his hair curled at his nape when wet. The frown between his brows when he concentrated on solving a task. Those piercing eyes as they?—
A soft shriek pierces the room, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Matthew curses under his breath. He turns around, and I spot Jax on the changing table, already on his hands and knees, ready to crawl away. Matthew grabs him at the very last second, pulling him into his naked chest.
Stop checking him out!I chastise myself, shaking my head.
“Dude, we need to have a serious talk about your attitude,” Matthew mutters, gently poking the baby on his naked belly. “You need to listen to what adults are telling you.”
Jax giggles, completely unbothered by the reprimand. Then he spots me, and his smile grows bigger. “J!”
Jackson calling me J because he can’t pronounce my full name has been the cutest thing ever.
He extends his hands toward me, and I can feel myself relax. “Hey, birthday boy. What are you up to?”
I slide my hand around his body, my fingers brushing against Matthew’s hot skin as he transfers Jax into my arms. Tingles course under my flesh at the point of contact, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to let a sound out.
“Choosing a pretty girl over the dude who cleaned your butt, why am I not surprised?”
A strangled sound escapes me. “You made a mess, did you? Good.” I gently nuzzle his nose with mine. “You’ve gotta make him work for it.”
Jax lets out a gurgle in agreement, his little hands reaching for my hair. I gently brush them away, sweeping my long strands over my other shoulder before he can tangle them between his grabby fingers.
“Dude, what did we say about flirting with the ladies? No can do.”
“As if he hasn’t been doing that for the last six months. He has us all wrapped around his little finger,” I chuckle softly.
I lift my gaze, only to be met with his deep brown eyes.
Matthew’s standing way closer than I anticipated, his attention zeroed in on me. His hand rises, his fingers tucking my hair behind my ear. The back of his hand brushes against my cheekbone, and tingles of awareness snap to life, leaving a burning sensation behind.
I should take a step back, break that one point of contact between us, tell him to get his hands off of me. The words are on the tip of my tongue, and yet nothing comes out. His thumb skims over my cheek, and goosebumps rise on my skin.
“And what’s going on here?”
We jump apart at the sound of Becky’s voice. Or, more accurately,Ijump apart. My heart thunders inside my chest as I turn toward the staircase to find Becky and Miguel watching us with matching curious gazes.
My cheeks heat, but before I can come up with some kind of explanation, Matthew answers, “Your son decided to poop bomb me, and since you were nowhere to be found, I had to change him. You’re welcome.”
“Is that so?” My friend’s calculating gaze shifts to me, as if she wants to know how I fit into the situation, and it takes everything in me to gather my wits about me.
“Don’t look at me! I walked in on this mess.”
