I looked over at Kayla, Janie’s best friend for forever, and snorted.
Kayla was asleep on the couch, her mouth hanging half open as drool started to leak out of it onto the leather.
“You should probably take a picture,” I informed her. “That’d make a good profile picture.”
Janie reached for her phone and snapped a few, then looked at me expectantly.
I waved at her. “Fine.”
That’d give me six hours to get some work done. My thesis would be perfect…I just needed a little more information.
***
I was ankle deep in mud—on someone’s property, perilously close to that someone’s home—and I was on my haunches looking at the moss that was growing on the trunk of a tree.
I’d just scraped off a sample of it into a petri dish and taped it up when I heard a male clearing his throat behind me.
I looked over my shoulder to see a very sexy man, his arms crossed, standing at the foot of his dock.
And when I say sexy, I meant to die for. He had me experiencing the kind of full body awareness that zoomed down my spine and shot straight to my vagina.
Jesus Christ, he was a wet dream.
He was tall, built, and tattooed.
He had longer brown/black hair and a trimmed beard covering the lower half of his face, but I could definitely see that he had an angular jaw and beautiful lips.
His legs were braced apart, encased in a pair of tight blue jeans that left very little to the imagination—such as he the fact that he situated his junk on the left.
The t-shirt that he wore was stretched like a second skin over a taut chest that looked like it’d seen the inside of a gym more than any man on the planet.
He had bright blue eyes lined by long, dark eyelashes that I would need several coats of mascara, and possibly the addition of fake lashes, to have any hope of achieving length-wise.
And his foot was tapping in his muck boots as he looked at me incredulously.
How had he gotten all the way down it without me hearing him coming?
I waved.
He scowled.
“This is private property,” he growled.
I stood up and winced when my knees popped.
When I was a young girl, I’d started playing softball.
I was good, too.
I’d even made the Olympic team.
I hadn’t gone, though.
Why, you ask, would a person turn down an Olympic team begging for you to play for them?
Because I was an idiot.
Well, not so much an idiot as a woman who loved her boyfriend and didn’t see how awful he was until much too late.
My boyfriend at the time had begged and pleaded with me not to go. He didn’t like that I’d be in Arizona for at least six months training with the team.
When I’d told him I was going anyway, he got angry and purposely crashed the car that we were in and shattered every single one of my dreams in the process.
My knee had suffered the most damage, and at the age of twenty-one, my softball career had officially ended.
Four years later, I was still trying to figure out a way for my knee not to hate me.
I started trudging out of the woods without another word, slinging my backpack onto my shoulders as I did.
If I hurried, I might make it to the blind date on time. I had about a half-mile walk back down to the public access boat ramp, and from there, it was about a mile and a half down the road to property that I was renting for the spring and summer.
“You do realize that the entire five acres that you’ll be walking through is someone else’s property, correct?” the man asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I shrugged.
Yeah, I knew.
Although, if I had been on the outer five feet of this land, I wouldn’t be on that person's property…but that was currently under water from all the rain we’d been getting, so that was a no-go.
“You do know how to use big girl words, don’t you?”
Alrighty then. The sexy man was also a dick.
I turned and gave him my eyes.
I didn’t say anything, but I did give him the stink eye.
His lips twitched in amusement.
He found my anger funny?
Nice.
I turned around and continued to walk, but his voice stopped me once again.
“Did you steal something?” he asked.
This time, though, he wasn’t on the dock where he had been, he was on the ground, in the mud right along with me.
I looked at him over my shoulder and said, “No.”
“I saw you put something in your bag,” he pushed.
I dropped my backpack off one shoulder, and then reached into the pocket with the moss that I’d put in a petri dish and showed it to him.
He took the dish out of my hands, and before I could reach for it, he had the thing open.
Once he’d taken my moss, he handed the dish back.
“Next time, don’t steal.” He paused. “Or possibly ask permission to be on someone’s property.”
I narrowed my eyes to dangerous slits that clearly relayed my unhappiness.
But, he was right.
I was on his property.
But dammit! I’d have to come back later on tonight to get that moss, because I needed it for my thesis.
I had a few tests I wanted to run on it, and currently his trees were the only ones I could reach from my house since the damn lake was so flooded.
I stomped a little harder than I should have, and felt the mud slosh up the side of my boots and start leaking down inside.
God. Dammit.
I turned around and was going to glare at the man, but he was gone.
I halted, tempted to turn around and snatch some more moss, but as soon as I had my foot turned in the opposite direction, his voice stopped me.
“Don’t even think about it,” he growled.
That came from in front of me.
I jumped, whirled, and lost my footing, ending up ass first in the cool mud.
I breathed through clenched teeth and looked up at the smiling man.
Was throat punching illegal?
I should probably move off of his property before I did that though since it wouldn’t look good for me if I was arrested.
And my dad would be pissed. Again.
Not to mention, I might get a criminal record, and then I’d lose my scholarship.
I stood up—without the bastard’s help—and started on my way again.
This time I didn’t stop at his taunts. I just kept walking until I reached the boat ramp.
Then, once I was at a part that had concrete and I could wash myself off, I waded into the lake, washing the mud off my boots, shorts, and lower half of my shirt.
Once they were clean, I walked back up the boat ramp, took my boots off and emptied the water out of them.
Once I had them back on, I stripped the shirt from my body and tucked it into the back of my waistband.
Then I resumed my trek home.
All the while, I was very much aware of the man’s eyes on me.
He watched me go and didn’t stop watching until I was out of sight.
Only then did I look over my shoulder.
***
I walked into the restaurant, very mindful that I was well on my way to being over half an hour late.
I did not want to be there.
Which was why I was wearing my t-shirt that said, Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to come.
It seemed fitting, and hopefully my blind date would get the message that I was not happy about being here and didn’t want anything to with him.
Unfortunately, I’d do just about anything for Janie.
Even go out on a date that I didn’t want to go on.
I pulled the door open and inhaled deeply, relishing in the scent of tacos and spices.
I loved food.
I loved food so much that I planned my day around good food.
For instance, today I got up early because I knew that it was special day at the gas station—two bacon, egg and cheese taquitos for the price of one. But you had to get there early, because if you didn’t, they’d be all sold out.
They were that good.
Someone bumped me from behind, and I stumbled.
It was only the quick thinking of the man who’d done the bumping that prevented me from landing on my face on the floor.
Once I caught my footing, I turned and smiled at the person behind me in thanks.
Only the smile immediately slid from my face once I saw who it was.
The man from the lake.
The stupid, tall, dark and handsome Greek god of a man who had made me fall in the mud and had stolen my moss.
The same man who I planned to steal more moss from later on tonight.
Like right now.
I should go now seeing as he was here, and if he was here, I knew he wasn’t at home.
I yanked my arm away and glared.
“You were the one to walk in front of me,” he held up his hands. “Apparently, you need to learn to pay attention to your surroundings. You’ve nearly bit the dust twice today.”
Fucker.
Ain't Doin' It Page 22
