Part 4 (1/2)

I heard his sharp inhalation as he saw what I'd intended him to see, and I smiled.

I shucked the s.h.i.+rt from my body, tossed it on the dresser, and reached for the bra that was laying in the drawer beside where the panties had just been.

It wasn't the one that matched the panties, but a deep midnight blue.

It wasn't lace, but it was still pretty.

I didn't do uncomfortable bras nor uncomfortable shoes. Those were two things that I couldn't handle.

The scrub top came next, followed by the scrub pants.

I s.h.i.+mmied my a.s.s once I had them on to make sure I could handle the panties, and was satisfied when they didn't ride up to no man's land.

I walked to the end of the bed, grabbed my shoes, and sat down on the chase beside Cleo.

He s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably as I sat and shoved my feet into the tennis shoes.

”Let me grab my lunch and we can go,” I said, before darting from the room.

I only ever left myself twenty minutes to get ready and leave. It was always a rush in the morning.

I a.s.sumed Cleo had to be in at the same time I did, and I didn't even know where he had to go.

He'd probably be late. But I wouldn't.

”Heh,” I grunted as I grabbed my salad out of the fridge.

”What?” Cleo asked from behind me.

I turned, surveying him from head to foot.

”Do you wear normal clothes under your flight suit?” I asked.

He nodded his head. ”Yep.”

My brows furrowed. ”Well s.h.i.+t.”

I'd been hoping for something more risque, kind of like him free-balling it.

He nodded. ”You're eating a salad?”

I looked down at the unappetizing pile of lettuce covered in nonfat ranch and grimaced. ”Yes.”

My workouts had seen a significant drop since I'd moved here.

I never left myself enough time in the mornings to work out and, in the evenings, I was always too tired. I very rarely had a day off that I didn't have eighteen million things to do, so my last resort was to start eating healthy.

After having to go up two jeans sizes, I knew I had to do something.

Sadly, it was the good, yummy, appealing food that had to take a hike.

”Interesting. A lot has changed with you over the last year,” he said as he took a look around my spa.r.s.ely furnished kitchen.

I didn't have much, but what I did have was enough.

I was renting a house in a shoddy part of town, but it was in my price range, and it didn't leak when the rain came.

The heating could use a little work, but that was nothing a blanket and a nice fire couldn't fix.

Which was what I'd done last night.

In Natchitoches, I'd lived in a very nice place. It had hardwood floors, vaulted ceilings, and one h.e.l.l of a heater. That was only because the owner, one of my grandmother's best friends, had asked that we live there while Nonnie still needed it.

I ignored his comment and walked out of the room, grabbed my jacket off the couch, put it on, and then went out the front door.

I came to a stop beside his bike.

Dammit.

I'd done so well to avoid this very thing two days ago, and now here I was anyway.

f.u.c.k. Me.

I climbed on without waiting for him, and sat back as far as I could so I didn't touch him.

He laughed at me, and my attempt to keep my distance.

He didn't try to move me forward.

Instead, he started the bike, pushed it into gear with his foot, and eased forward slowly.

I reluctantly let my body scoot forward until it was plastered up against his, and closed my eyes on the sheer rightness that coursed through me at being pressed against him again.

He felt so d.a.m.n good.

As usual, he wasn't wearing a jacket, even though it was nearing the end of February.

It was a cool forty degrees out, but you couldn't tell by Cleo's short sleeves that it was anything other than perfect riding weather.

He didn't even have any goose b.u.mps on his skin.

The back of his head was trimmed neatly, leaving a clean black line of hair that was military precise.

He turned his head, giving me an unenc.u.mbered view of his strong, square jaw and the unshaven bristles covering his cheeks.