white trim, I used the colored door as an easy way to indicate to people which one was mine.
He gave me a big grin, a tooth missing on the bottom. “Thanks, Miss Emory!”
I watched him ride off and around the corner, wounds forgotten.
5
EMORY
Simon and I showed up at the park a little before noon. I didn’t want to seem too eager, and I had to do some serious psyching up at home to actually go. I'd even chickened out twice. Committing Simon yesterday had been a smart move; I hadn’t been able to back out. There was no way he was going to miss seeing the guy who’d gotten me all flustered. When we’d met on the sidewalk out front, Simon had given me a once over as usual.
I looked down at myself. Because it was hot and we'd be out in the sun, I wore black shorts and a racer-back tank top that was black-and-white stripe on the front and solid red on the back. A pedicure had been my Saturday night excitement, but at least my toes looked good in my flip-flops. I’d pulled my hair back into a ponytail, the shorter curls framing my face. I wore sunglasses and a thick layer of sunscreen. “It’s a flag football game in a park. I can dress myself for that.”
My slight grumbling tone made Simon’s eyebrows go up, but he didn’t push. I could only assume he could tell how out of sorts I was and didn’t want to either make me run back inside and lock the door or start to cry. Not that I had plans for either, but he didn’t know that.
When we got to the park, guys were out on the field running around, the game already started. I didn’t follow football all that much but knew the basics of the game. There was no scoreboard or time clock though, and it looked like a complete free-for-all to me. There were about twenty other spectators along the sidelines, some in folding chairs, others on blankets. Kids ran around chasing each other on the sides of the field, and babies took naps in their strollers, worn out from the heat.
I spread out a blanket as Simon put down the small cooler I'd packed, then we settled in to watch. He handed me a soda as I sat cross-legged.
“Which one is he?” He popped the lid on his drink.
One team wore black-and-white striped T-shirts like a bunch of convicts, the other wore dark green ones with a yellow collar. As I scanned the men, I realized Faith would have enjoyed this. Watching sweaty, fit men run around and tackle each other, showing off their caveman qualities would spike any woman’s libido. It certainly worked on mine. But when I finally glimpsed Gray on the field, my heart stuttered. The other night wasn’t a fluke. He did something to me, not just the snap shirt. This guy, why this guy? Was I insane? There was one way to find out.
“There.” I pointed.
“The blond?”
I shook my head, took a sip of soda to cool myself down. Gray looked… God, amazing. Manly. He was wearing one of the ridiculous convict shirts, the neckline stretched out by someone’s rough grab. It didn’t have any snaps, but it looked damned good on him. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he had a streak of dirt on his forearm that blended in with the tattoo. With his arm exposed, I could see it was large enough to creep up his forearm and over his biceps. Although he was tan, the tattoo stood out in stark contrast. I hadn’t been wild about tattoos in general before, but on Gray… it totally melted my butter. I had to wonder if he had any others, and if so, where?
“No, the tall one with the dark close-cropped hair.”
Simon looked where I pointed, his brows going up. “Holy shit, Em. That’s the guy?”
I nodded.
“I can see why he made you nervous. He’s fucking hot and nothing like a guy you’d normally be interested in.”
There was that word again. Normal.
“I know,” I admitted, taking another sip of my soda. “I don’t know what it is about him.” I turned to Simon, hoping he’d truly understand because I sure didn’t. “I mean, he’s got tattoos! And he’s a cowboy, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him now, but his snap shirt the other night made me want to toss him my panties.” I didn’t dare look at Simon