Oh dear God.
I went to my knees as fast as possible and now that I was able to see, pulled my sports bra on as fast as lightning just as the shrill squeak of what had to be Kulti getting off the bed warned me my time was up. I didn’t even let myself think that he’d probably caught a glimpse of side boob. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen hundreds of boobs before but these were mine. Wearing a sports bra was one thing, boobs flopping freely was another.
I yanked a racer-back tank on before standing up, already holding my running shorts in one hand, ready to pull them on as soon as possible. But I sure as shit wasn’t going to bend over and put them on with my butt facing him.
Except just as I turned around, I stopped. Because the German was facing me, watching me as he stood there in boxer briefs. Only boxer briefs. Was his face all sleepy? Maybe, but I sure as hell wasn’t looking at his face when I turned around. All I saw were his flat six-pack abs and square pecs, the low rise of his heather-gray boxer briefs and wood.
The morning wood tucked against his thigh.
I coughed and eyed his thigh one more time before quickly stepping into my shorts and pulling them up my legs, just as he pulled up his own pair of running shorts.
I couldn’t breathe, and I really couldn’t look him in the face as I grabbed my socks off the floor. “Umm, I’ll, uh, wait for you in the kitchen.”
He grunted his agreement and I hauled ass out of there, walking out before I remembered I left my shoes in the room. I went back in, grabbed them without looking at the boner—I mean, Kulti—and going back out. My dad was already gone, the coffeepot was on for my mom who was already getting ready for work. I filled up two water bottles from the collection I had here and drank a glass while I waited for the German. It didn’t occur to me until he arrived in the kitchen that I should have brushed my teeth.
“Ready?” I asked.
Sleepy and his eyes and cheeks puffy, he nodded.
Don’t glance at his crotch, don’t glance at his crotch.
I glanced. Just real quick.
“Eyes up here, Taco.”
I wanted to die. “What?” I slowly looked up to see a smug look on his swollen mouth.
By some miracle, he decided not to embarrass me and say he knew I was full of shit playing dumb. Was I going to take advantage of the pass he was giving me? Hell yeah.
I waved Kulti forward, noticing he’d taken the wrap off his freshly inked tattoo. A hint of dark lines peeked out from his shirtsleeve. “Come on. I’m not going to take it easy on your old knees, so you better keep up.”
“If you wantto go somewhere, you can borrow my car,” I told the German over breakfast a couple hours later.
He leaned back in his seat, polishing off a hardboiled egg. “I don’t.”
“Think about it if you want. I’m going to trim the yard first, and then I want to head to the mall to buy my dad his birthday present. It’ll take me a couple hours until I’m ready to go. “
“You’re mowing the yard?” he asked.
I nodded.
Those green-brown eyes focused in right on my face and a moment later he said, “I’ll help you.”
“You don’t have to—“
“I want to.”
“Rey, you don’t—“
“I’m not lazy,” he cut me off. “I can help.”
I eyed him for a second, the brief image of what I was sure was a good fat eight inches under his boxer briefs filling my head, and then pushed the image back, remembering what the hell we were talking about. “All right, if you really want to.”
Because, seriously? I doubted he cut his own lawn, but he wanted to help me do my dad’s? All right. I was stubborn, but I wasn’t dumb enough to not take help when it was offered.
A few minutes later we were outside, and he was helping me take my dad’s ancient mower out of the garage—he took his good one with him to work—and his back-up edger and weed-eater. “Which would you rather do?” I asked him once all our equipment was on the driveway.
He shrugged, looking at the mower with interest.