Softer.
Happier.
Prettier.
My breath comes a little faster as I push my hair back from my face and turn toward the open front door, and that’s when I see him.
Shepherd, leaning casually against the patio door of the main house, his arms crossed, watching me with a casual smile etched on his face. He’s wearing a Portland Rush T-shirt and,what the fuck?
Shepherd Haynes owns a pair of slutty gray sweatpants.
My heart stumbles and heat floods my face as I freeze in place.
Oh my God.
How long has he been watching me?
“Well,” he says, his voice muffled by the rain when I step outside, “that explains the music.”
I groan, dragging my hand down my face. “How long have you been standing there?”
His mouth curves, slow and amused. “Long enough.”
Damn his sexy grin.
“Fantastic,” I say, already stepping back, suddenly hyper-aware of every movement I just made. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”
“Don’t,” he says immediately, the word landing softer than I expect. He’s completely at ease, like watching me dance around the house is the most normal thing in the world. “You looked…” He trails off, like he’s choosing his words carefully.
My stomach flips. “Like what?”
His gaze holds mine. “Happy.”
I swallow, unsure what to do with that. “I was,” I admit softly. “I am.”
His expression changes just enough that I catch it. Like it matters to him that I’m in a good place.
Thunder rolls again, louder this time, and the sky flashes briefly, lighting up the space between us. He straightens, tapping his knuckles once against the glass, his T-shirt pulling taut across his chest.
“Storm’s about to hit.”
“I noticed,” I say, suddenly aware of how chilly it is out here. My nipples betraying me at every angle.
“You eat yet?” His gaze drifts down, then lifts back to my face.
I narrow my eyes immediately. “There it is.”
“There what is?”
“The question that leads to you feeding me.”
He shrugs, a slow smile spreading. “I’m predictable.”
“You’re suspicious,” I counter, my voice lower than I intended.
He laughs, and fuck me, the sound vibrates through my body. “Actually, I was hoping you might want some ice cream.” His eyes meet mine, steady and somehow both careful and hopeful at the same time. “I got that toothpaste with chocolate in it you like.”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “It does not taste like toothpaste!”
