Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
No such luck.
The stranger tilted forward to get a peek. “Cute panties.”
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
His fist tightened on the scrap of fabric in his hand and he focused a steady stare at the guy. “Do I look like I care what you think?” Nice, he’d sounded way more confident than he felt. His voice hadn’t even shaken.
The guy straightened. “You’re right, that was out of line. Sorry.”
The sincere apology threw Tam. “Uh, okay.” His gaze caught on the stranger’s wide leather wristband. It looked worn and beloved as if he wore it every day. Soft. Supple.
“Seriously, I’m not usually such an ass. Yet here I am practically naked in the middle of the night.”
“It’s okay.” Man, why’d it suddenly get so hot? Tam fanned his shirt but it didn’t help.
“I freaked you out.”
“I wasn’t freaked.” More like embarrassed. The only people who saw his underwear were the boys and even then he usually kept his more itty-bitty lacy options to himself.
The stranger continued like Tam hadn’t replied. “Because who wouldn’t be nervous when a naked stranger corners them in the basement? I’m such a dick.”
“I’m not nervous.” Not exactly a lie, he was annoyed that his routine had been interrupted, not scared. He knew a number of ways to protect himself. But still...
“I mean, you’re half my size and here I am commenting on your adorable panties? Total douchebag move.”
Tam couldn’t help it, he laughed. It was loud in the quiet hollowness of the basement. “Calm down, it’s not the end of the world. Apology accepted.”
The corner of the stranger’s mouth tipped up and snared all of Tam’s focus. “Yeah?”
Breath caught, Tam nodded. Why hadn’t he noticed before how full those lips were? Or how stormy his eyes were? Or the thickness of his brown hair at the top, so full Tam suddenly wanted to feel how soft it was. Shit.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.” Tam tore his gaze away and stared into the machine as his stomach fluttered. No, hell, this wasn’t butterflies or anything weak like that. It was as if a whole herd of wild antelope were stampeding through his insides. Not at all enjoyable.
He finished loading his laundry in silence. As he was adding the soap, the stranger spoke again. “So, I’m a bartender. What’s your excuse for late-night laundry duty?”
Tam had to bite his lip to stop the answer from spilling out unedited. Details he hadn’t noticed before were suddenly his center of attention. The bright yellow light played over the guy’s muscles, making them glow like painted marble. His sculpted pelvic bone seemed so hard where it disappeared into tight black briefs. Tam’s mouth went dry.
What. The. Hell?
He closed his eyes and shook his head. Nope. Not going to happen. He started his machine with a shaky hand.
“Habit,” he said.
Those full lips twisted wryly. “Right. Sorry to push.”
Tam picked up his basket. Against his better judgment he added, “I... I’ve done it this way for years. No matter where you go, the machines always seem to be free at this hour. I used to dance and tend to get home really late. I’m usually too wired afterward to sleep right away, so I clean instead.” He didn’t know why he’d elaborated, except that he hadn’t liked the disappointment in the stranger’s gray-blue eyes.
“You dance, like, a stripper?” He studied Tam a moment and then his nostrils flared. “Jesus.”
There was that interest again. Only this time, warmth spread through Tam and his pulse began to race.
“Now that’s something I’d pay to see,” the stranger said.
Never gonna happen. “Not a stripper. And anyway, I said used to. Remember?” Unless he could work a miracle and find the Sassy Boyz a new home. He crossed to the doorway. The reminder of their current lack of options soured his mood even further. It had been another crap day auditioning for assholes who hadn’t appreciated their uniqueness and talent. Another day of failure.
“Hey? Um, how long does a load usually take?”
“About an hour.” He headed out, ready for the day to be over.
“Wait.”
Tam stopped, heart thundering, palms sweaty. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought the tempest, but it didn’t feel like an oncoming panic attack and his usual relaxation mantra wasn’t working.
“I, uh, I didn’t get your name.”
Tam turned. “What?”
“I’m Driver.” The stranger held out his hand. “I’m a bartender-slash-construction worker-slash-freelance photographer. I’ve been to every state at least twice. I like cookies and sunsets and dogs.”
Tam stared at the outstretched hand like it might bite him. Even from here he could see it was rough with calluses and littered with scars.
“Tam.” He slipped his smaller hand into Driver’s and ignored the heat that crawled up his spine. “I’m a dancer-slash-choreographer. I don’t travel, but I like cookies and sunsets and dogs too.”
“I promise I’m not a psycho. I’m turtle-sitting for my friend Harrison Givens. He’s on the third floor, Apartment 33. Do you know him?”