Cheesy on the Eyes by Teagan Hunter Page 0,27
from the cabin…shirtless.
I clamp my hand over my mouth, ducking behind a pillar like I’m Joe Goldberg looking for my next victim.
I peek around, watching his bronzed skin glisten with sweat as he moves around the deck, his hands full of I don’t even know what.
I could tell before that Sully had a good amount of muscle on him, but I wasn’t prepared to see it. He’s so…solid. Toned. He doesn’t look like he spends hours in the gym, but it’s clear he lives an active life.
“He’s a looker, huh?”
I jump at the sudden voice beside me, letting out a surprised squeak. “You scared the crap outta me, Mrs. Harkle!”
The older lady grins, a gold tooth shining bright from the corner of her mouth. “Caught you peekin’, did I?”
I bite my lip, not wanting to admit I was checking Sully out.
Mrs. Harkle, a woman I’m sure is as old as the structure we’re standing on herself, laughs. “It’s okay, darlin’. Like I said, he’s a looker. You wouldn’t be the first person to stop on these docks and take a peek at the show that man puts on. Heck, he’s so lost in his little world half the time, I don’t think he even realizes he has all these tongues waggin’ like he does.”
I’m sure she’s not wrong. Sully is damn fine-looking, and I bet he draws a lot of eyes just by doing whatever mundane task he’s up to now.
She leans into me. “Golly, what I’d give to be young again and say hello to him, if you know what I’m sayin’.” She wags her brows up and down, poking me with her elbow.
I chuckle at her. “You’re an old horndog, Mrs. Harkle.”
“Why do you think Stanley kept me around?” she asks, referring to her husband, who passed away a couple years ago. She waves a hand over her body. “It wasn’t for my saggin’ bags.”
I nearly choke on my laugh, though I shouldn’t be surprised. Janet Harkle has never been one to mince words or try to put on airs. She is who she is, all sass and inappropriate comments. Of all the old folks in town, she’s always been my favorite because she’s never once judged me for being who I am.
I’d never tell the old bat for fear it would go to her head, but I aspire to be as cool as her when I’m her age.
“Well, are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna go say hi to the man?” She points over my shoulder. “He’s staring right at you.”
I peer over my shoulder, and she’s right—Sully is looking right at me.
I turn back to my surprise guest. “It was as great as ever seeing you, Mrs. Harkle. Try to stay out of trouble…and off young men’s boats, huh?”
“I make no promises, little Thea. Good luck with the hunk.” There’s a twinkle in her eye as she saunters off.
Shaking my head at her, I turn on my heel and continue toward Sully’s boat.
He’s still standing on the top deck, looking down at me with his hands on his hips and a small grin pulling at his mouth.
“Hey,” he says when I approach. “You’re here!”
“Yep, and I brought my flippy-floppies.”
His eyes fall to the flag swaying in the ocean breeze. “Lonely Island fan?”
“Isn’t everyone?” I counter.
“It was a housewarming gift from my friends.” He shakes his head, his lips pressing together like he’s ashamed of them, but the twitching gives away his urge to laugh. “You’re early.”
“Here’s a Thea tidbit,” I say, covering my eyes to look up at him. “I’m punctual, and in my book, punctual means five minutes early. If I’m on time, I’m late.”
“What is this, the military?”
I sigh. “Can I come aboard? Or do I have to stand out here and sweat to death?”
His grin widens. “Hop on and come around. I’ll meet you at the stern.”
I’m not overly versed in boat lingo, but I know he’s talking about the back of the boat.
I step onto the deck, studying my surroundings. It’s an older vessel—that much is obvious by the design—but it’s in excellent condition considering it’s likely over twenty years old. The lower deck is small, and aside from the pile of tarps lying in the corner, it’s clean.
I find my way around the boat and emerge on the stern just as Sully descends the stairs.
His muscles move and pull as he carefully climbs down, a rolled rug in his hands.
“Need a hand?” I offer.
“I’m good, thanks.” He tosses