“It means I’ve got five bucks that says you two would be fire in bed.”
I’m immediately assaulted by a very detailed visual.
Would he kneel for me?
Fucking hell.
“Gross, Melia!Boundaries!”
“Ugh,” she says, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Americans are such prudes.”
“You say that like you are not also an American.” I shake my head. “Also, I can’t be both a slut and a prude.”
She snorts. “Don’t act like he’s not your type.”
I need more beer for this conversation.
“I hate you.”
She winks at me. “I love you too, baby brother.” Her focus shifts to something behind me. “Oh, hey, Sy!”
I close my eyes.
“I am going to go down there and murder you in your sleep,” I mutter under my breath. “I can get away with that now.”
“Welp. Sy would definitely help you bury the body.” She smiles broadly. “All you hafta do is ask nicely.”
Menace.
“Bye, Melia.”
Before she can open her big mouth again, I end the call and send up a small prayer that Silas hasn’t been here the entire time.
I turn to face him. He’s got a towel over one well-muscled shoulder, and he’s wearing flip-flops, bright-orange swim trunks, and the dark wraparounds that cover his stunning silver-blue eyes. I let my eyes trail down the length of him and…fuck. Hisbody. His muscles are sleek, dangerous, and covered in gorgeous ink. He’s clearly a fan of horror in any format, and most of his tattoos are well-known characters from books, movies, and comics. His skin gleams from the heavy-duty sunscreen he uses to protect the expensive artwork, and I try not to drool on myself.
Fine. He’sdefinitelymy type.
“Hey, Sy. Wanna join me for a beer?”
10
SILAS
Oakley and Amelia were definitely,definitely talking about me.
Also, he just asked me a question.
“Huh?”
Oakley smiles and repeats himself. “Wanna join me for a beer?”
“Oh. Uh. Yeah, a beer would be great.” He goes to get up, but I stop him with a gesture. “I’ll grab them. You want another Modelo?” I ask, taking the empty bottle from his hand, careful not to touch him.
He nods, and Cupcake leans against my leg. She does that when my anxiety spikes.
“Cupcake, free,” I say, indicating that she’s not on duty anymore.
She looks up at me and lets out a softwoofof disagreement.
