He grunts—grunts—as he moves a fallen branch, biceps flexing like they’ve been waiting for this moment their whole lives. I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I nearly cry. Every inch of him glistens in the sun, and all I can think is,that body was on top of me last night.Thatmouthwas between my legs. That voice whispered my name like it was a confession.
God help me.
“You're staring,” he calls without turning around, amusement evident in his voice.
“I'm observing,” I correct him, chin lifted like I have any dignity left. “Writer's habit.”
He pauses, leans on the machete, and glances back at me with that slow, cocky smile that could short-circuit a nun. “And what are you observing, exactly?”
“The local wildlife,” I deadpan. “Fascinating specimen of shirtless Texan cowboy in his natural habitat.”
Grant laughs, the sound rich and low and vibrating somewhere entirely inappropriate in my body. He strolls toward me, throwing the machete to the side and wiping his brow with the back of his hand—unnecessarily sexy, if you ask me.
His proximity makes my skin prickle with awareness. “And what are your findings so far,Professor?”
I bite my lip to keep from giggling.
“Still gathering data,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders, fighting a smile. “Initial observations indicate dangerously high levels of distraction…but results are... promising.”
He drops onto the blanket beside me, close enough that my skin reacts like it’s been called to attention.
“Anything I can do to help your research?” he drawls, brushing his fingers lightly along mine. Electricity. Literal electricity courses through me.
“You could start by explaining what you're doing, besides murdering weeds in a suspiciously heroic manner.”
“I gesture toward the newly cleared area along the riverbank. “This seems like a lot of work for a Friday afternoon”.
Something flickers across his face—vulnerability, maybe. “I noticed you've been swimming diagonal patterns. Figured you were trying to create resistance training, but the current isn't strong enough here.” He points toward a bend in the river. “Over there, though, the water narrows and speeds up. Could be better for what you need.”
I stare at him, caught off guard by his thoughtfulness. My heart thuds loud enough I worry he can hear it.
“You noticed my training patterns?”
He shrugs, but I can see the slight flush on his cheeks. “I pay attention.”
“To me,” I clarify, needing to hear him say it.
His eyes meet mine, steady and sincere. “To you, always.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest—something dangerous and thrilling all at once. I blink fast. Dangerous territory, population: me.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “That's... incredibly thoughtful.”
“I was thinking,” he shrugs and continues, fiddling with a twig like he hasn’t just spun my entire emotional compass. “If you're serious about getting the most out of your training here, we could set up different zones. The bend for resistance, the deeper pool for diving practice, even the shallows for recovery exercises.”
“You’d do that? For me?”
His gaze flicks to mine, heat behind it. “Mia, I’d do a hell of a lot more than that for you.”
My brain flatlines. If I had panties on under this sundress, they’d be halfway to surrender by now.
The simple honesty in his tone steals my breath.
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken possibilities hanging between us.
“You look different today,” he finally says, studying my face.
“Different how?”
