It hit the tile with a crack, and pink flesh exploded like a crime scene. I froze, breath locked in my throat, my gaze pinned to Dean as though I were seeing a ghost.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
He stood across the room—shirtless, tan, his hair damp from a swim—and suddenly breathing began to feel like a full-time job.
Jake crouched immediately, muttering something as he reached for paper towels. His focus, thankfully, was on the floor.
Dean and I? We had no such distraction. We just stared, unmoving. The air between us thickened—electric, silent in a way that caused goosebumps to cover my skin.
What are you doing here?I mouthed across the room to him.
Jake looked up, oblivious. “Hey, can you grab me a bowl?”
My body finally caught up to the moment. I nodded, walked stiffly to the counter, and grabbed a mixing bowl, pretending the whole time that my hands weren’t shaking.
To my dismay, Dean crouched beside us—still shirtless, still infuriatingly relaxed in a way that gave me butterflies.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he murmured.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. All I could do was silently pray that Jake wouldn’t notice the tension vibrating between us.
I wasn’t that lucky.
Jake glanced between us, squinting as he tossed a chunk of watermelon into the bowl. “Wait—do you guys know each other?”
Dean stood, wiping his hands on his shorts. But he didn’t answer. He looked at me instead, passing the ball back into my court.
Heat crept up my neck. I turned to the counter, grabbed a cloth, and focused on wiping invisible juice from my hands. “I—um…”
“We met at work,” Dean said smoothly, stepping in as if lying came second nature to him. His tone was calm. Steady. Lethally convincing.
Relief curled in my gut. Then dread.
“Work?” Jake frowned.
“She consulted on a case,” Dean added. “Web design stuff.”
Quickandsmart. Too smart.
But then Jake looked at me again. “Didn’t know you were doing consulting now, Em.”
I offered a quick shrug, then quickly turned back to the watermelon and tossed the remains into the trash. “Guess I’m out of the competition this year, darn.”
Jake chuckled, clearly catching on to my deliberate change in subject.
“Give me that,” he said, taking the trash bag from my hands with a wink. “Pretty sure I’ve got another melon in the garage.”
Dean turned to follow him, but I grabbed the edge of his shorts. “We need to talk,” I hissed.
Before he could answer, I dragged him through the living room, down the hallway, and into the bathroom, where I shut the door and locked it.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. “I know Jake. We went to law school together.”
Then—because apparently that wasn’t enough—he stepped closer, just as infuriatingly confident in board shorts as he’d been in a three-piece suit. “How doyouknow Jake?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”
