Loner by Harloe Rae Page 0,61

a simple decision to make.”

“Am I that repulsive?” I mean to sound serious, but a flirty undertone sneaks through the cracks.

His eyes flit up to mine, narrowing into slits. “Quite the opposite, and you know it.”

I toy with a stretchy strap that’s crossing over my collarbone. “Do I?”

“Don’t test me, woman. Your daughter is nearby. I can only hope you took pity on me and chose something that fully covers your perky ass.” In an unprecedented show of affection, Crawford rubs his thumb across my nape.

A thrill zips through me, and I curl my toes into the sandy embankment. “Substantial swimwear isn’t my preference.”

He bites the knuckle on his clenching fist. “Now you’re just being cruel.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to see what I’m keeping covered?” I tug at the fabric straining over my bust.

Crawford takes a sudden interest in a tall aspen next to us. “I have a vivid imagination.”

I hum a sound of agreement. “You certainly do.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s your intention to torture me.”

I blink at him, batting my lashes with extra oomph. “This was your idea.”

“Maybe you should keep the dress on. Indefinitely.”

I reach for the hem skimming my mid-thigh. “Never.”

“My regret is expanding faster than other parts, which is amazing on its own. Choosing an activity that requires you to wear a bikini was a grave mistake.” He straightens his fingers, stretching the flexed knuckles, only to curl them into fists again. “I’m already testing every ounce of my control.”

I choose to focus on a specific part of his speech. A sneaky idea follows close behind. “Who told you I have a bikini on?”

Crawford’s brow makes an inquisitive leap upward. “Did you take pity on me and choose a one-piece?”

“Should we find out?” In one fell swoop, I remove the garment and toss it at him. The sun kisses my skin, much like I wish his lips would. I shove that nonsense away with a harsh exhale. What am I thinking?

Crawford’s eyes dip to my mouth, trailing down until settling on the modest cups covering my breasts. The underwire and push-up features emphasize my already ample cleavage. Based on the heat flaring in his hazel pools, he’s appreciating the added boost. My skin pebbles under his fiery gaze. I shiver against the onslaught of warring emotions ripping me apart.

“I take it all back. This was a fantastic plan.” In the next beat, Crawford whips off his white tee, revealing bronze skin and a well-toned physique. Black board shorts hang low on his waist, almost revealing the entire happy trail that leads to so much more. I’m well aware of what he’s packing behind that thin layer of nylon. If I stare hard enough, the outline of his impressive ridge is visible to my desperate searching.

“That’s what I was thinking.” My body is too hot, sizzling from more than the direct rays beating down over us. I turn in front of him, close enough to touch, but begin walking backward before our boundaries are breached. The cool stream laps at my ankles, and a rush of relief washes over me. I bend and flick water at him. The spray hits him in the chest, trickling down to the waistband of his shorts. I’ve never been more jealous of liquid. “Well, don’t just stand there looking pretty. Come and get me.”

Healing Hug #20: The silent moments are most powerful. It doesn’t have to be for comfort.

I drum my fingers to a crooning country beat that’s serenading me through the speakers. The romantic lyrics aren’t lost on me, but I tune out the singer’s suggestions all the same. I don’t need another reason to think about love and commitment and losing my damn mind. Sitting mere feet from a certain captivating blonde is more than enough to make me wax poetic. Keegan is tapping her thumb against the steering wheel, enjoying the wistful tune. Her ruby lips are mouthing the words, and I find myself sucked into the chorus all over again. She catches me staring, lifting a brow in my direction.

“Find something of interest?”

Damn straight I have. I nudge my aviators down until an unobstructed view of her face filters in. “Other than the rows of wheat and tumbleweeds?”

“Spoken like a true native of Wyoming.”

I knock on the glass beside my head. “Born and raised. Glad my roots are showing.”

She nods. “Seems we have that in common.”

“Where’d you grow up?”

“In Cheyenne, mostly.” Keegan’s smile wilts at the corners. “I moved around a lot during