“Hello?” I call softly as I close the door behind me. “Gavin?”
The house is immaculate, beautiful, and dead quiet. I’m relieved to notice that the decor in here is nothing like the exceedingly uncomfortable European vibe he has going on in his office. I walk through the entry into the sunken living room, open to the kitchen and overlooking the infinity pool out back. I bet I could stand on the back patio and look down on the river. A stone-encased hot tub is next to the pool, and as I’m looking, outside lights come on, probably hooked up to a timer, but it still makes me jump.
I shouldn’t be examining the comfort level of his furniture or admiring the view. This isn’t an episode of some HGTV show, but more like a detective show, one where I’m searching for my boss.
“Gavin?” I call again, glancing toward a door leading to a hallway behind the massive stone fireplace in one wall. There’s another hallway on the opposite side, just off the kitchen. How much do I snoop? What if Gavin isn’t here? What if he isn’t even sick?
And then I turn around and Gavin is right there, so close that I make an embarrassing sort of scream-gasp combination.
“Gavin!”
He doesn’t answer. Actually, he doesn’t really move, unless I count the swaying he’s doing.
Two things catch my attention at the same time. The first is that Gavin is here, but not really here. His eyes have a glazed, unfocused look as he stares at nothing over my shoulder. Sweat beads on his forehead and his unshaven cheeks are flushed. He’s definitely sick.
That’s alarming, but not nearly as terrifying as the second thing. Which is that Gavin is shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose athletic shorts that are barely hanging on his hips.
For a moment, I shamelessly stare at the muscular physique, which I didn’t get to properly ogle earlier in the parking lot of Peter Pan Mini Golf. The light sheen of sweat makes him look like he belongs on an ad for a sunscreen commercial or one of those masculine body sprays. Whatever he’s selling? I’m buying.
I blame Gavin’s commercial-worthy torso for the fact that I miss the way his eyes roll back in his head as he pitches forward. He comes down on me like someone has sawn him off at the ankles, and I missed them shouting Timber!
I manage to catch him, albeit awkwardly, with his head flopping down on my shoulder and my feet planted. Thank goodness for all those runs with Harper! That’s what I’m thinking just before Gavin’s dead weight becomes too much and we both go crashing to the floor.
There is no gracious way to land. We’re basically starring in a winning clip on America’s Funniest Home Videos. My head hits the floor and Gavin’s chin goes right into my right eye. We’re an awkward mess of legs and arms, with his considerable weight squeezing the air out of my lungs.
Every part of my body hurts. It takes me thirty seconds of recovery to take in the situation. This moment has elements of my daydreams in it. Me and Gavin, tangled up together. But he was always awake in those moments, not passed out on top of me, pinning me to the hard floor.
When people say that muscle weighs more than fat, they’re onto something. Gavin is all muscle. And it’s all trapping me in a most uncomfortable way. It feels like a stack of rocks is crushing me, an avalanche of Gavin.
His glistening chest isn’t so attractive when it’s pressed up against me. Because it was glistening with sweat. The heat coming off his body is more powerful than August in Texas. He is feverish, sweating profusely, and he smells. Not some deep, sexy woodsy scent like I’ve often imagined and not been close enough to know.
No, Gavin smells like body odor and sickness. Just kill all my daydreams all at one time. He couldn’t be freshly showered, smelling like whatever bodywash or cologne he wears. Nope. I get the pure, unadulterated Gavin at his most primal.
Maybe this will finally kill my crush. Nothing like being trapped underneath a man smelling like freshly cut grass mixed with sliced onions to remove any romantic feelings.
“Gavin,” I grunt, trying to find a way to breathe that doesn’t include tasting the scent coming off his body. I try to wiggle out, but he’s just so dang