Melting - Sean Ashcroft Page 0,16

it wasn’t the most… seductive, but maybe that wasn’t the point. Maybe breaking the ice was all it had to do.

Hayden: Good morning

If it was good enough for him, it was good enough for me, right?

I tapped his name to go to his profile while I waited for a response and was confronted by a pair of rainbow-striped swimming trunks and a view of this guy from thighs to collarbones.

Tanned and muscular, but not so ripped that I was worried he might love leg day more than he loved anything else.

I had only the vaguest of ideas what leg day was. Aaron had talked about it—he was determined not to age—but I’d never bothered with the gym. I spent my entire workday on my feet and sweating in a kitchen, that was more than enough physical activity.

My brain snagged on the neat trail of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of his swim trunks. Where had I seen those swim trunks before? They seemed so familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

OverEasy: How much more fun in person?

What?

Oh, shit. My profile. I really did leave it like that last night, didn’t I?

Hayden: I think I said slightly.

I’d just have to own it now.

I pulled on a pair of sweatpants that I’d left on top of my half-packed suitcase last night and tucked my phone in the pocket, heading for the bathroom.

As soon as I pushed the door open, I remembered where I’d seen the swim trunks.

They were hanging neatly over the towel rail now, dry and as brightly colored as they had been in that profile photo.

Hayden: Are you teasing me?

Wes. Wes was the one in the photo, which was why the app was telling me he was less than a mile away. He was in the goddamn backyard.

OverEasy: Maybe the tiniest bit, but only because you’re cute

Hayden: Wes, I know it’s you

OverEasy: oh

OverEasy: what gave me away?

Hayden: your swimming trunks are still in the bathroom

OverEasy: shit

Yeah, shit.

The nerves and excitement evaporated like liquid nitrogen at room temperature. Of course it wasn’t someone who was actually interested.

Just Wes. Teasing me.

I was sure he wasn’t being intentionally cruel, but I couldn’t help feeling a little hurt all the same.

OverEasy: there’s fresh coffee in the pot in the kitchen, if you want it

A peace offering?

I did want it. Regardless of anything else, coffee sounded like the most important, sexiest thing in the world right now.

Hayden: Thanks

I finished up and headed down to the kitchen, stopping dead when I found Wes still hovering by the coffee pot. I’d imagined he’d make himself scarce.

Especially after last night.

“Morning,” he said, offering me a cheerful smile and pushing a cup of coffee—with creamer, and I was guessing sugar—across the counter toward me.

“We’ve already done good mornings,” I said, padding my way over and taking up the same spot I had yesterday.

“Touchy.” Wes tapped on the side of his own white-and-red striped coffee mug. “You roll out of the wrong side of the bed?”

“I…”

Was being rude. And cold. Exactly like I didn’t want to be.

I wasn’t like that. Not really. I was just… frustrated.

Sexually frustrated, but also generally frustrated. So much of my life wasn’t going as planned.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, wrapping both hands around the coffee mug for comfort. “Good morning.”

“You’ve never used a hookup app before, have you?” Wes asked.

I looked up at him, weary. “That obvious?”

He shrugged. “Kinda. How old is that picture?”

“Maybe three years?” I said. “I… do I look that different?”

Wes sipped his coffee. “I’m pleading the fifth,” he said. “But I can help. If you want.”

I thought back to his profile. I hadn’t even bothered to read what it said, I’d been so busy looking at that first picture.

“Why OverEasy?” I asked.

“I was a short-order cook for one of the local diners when I made the profile,” he said. “And I am easy.”

I wasn’t sure what to say about that. I’d kissed him last night, and we apparently weren’t acknowledging it this morning, so I couldn’t help a bitter little thought that he wasn’t that easy.

Not that he was obliged to have sex with me. Not, in the cold light of day, that I was even sure I wanted that.

… okay, that was a lie. I was trying so hard not to look at him that I was probably coming across as rude again.

“Do I remind you of a praying mantis?” I asked, remembering what Marissa had said. I risked looking up, meeting Wes’s pretty eyes that felt