Chapter Four Shelby #2
On impulse, I reach out and place a hand on Finn’s forearm.
His skin is warm, and the dark hair dusting it is sexy.
Konner was a big fan of manscaping and shaved everything.
I like a man to care about grooming, but some body hair is sexy in a masculine sort of way.
Konner wanted me bare everywhere too and couldn’t stand to touch me when I went a couple days without shaving when I had the flu.
I wasn’t interested in being intimate. Honestly, that wasn’t a big part of our relationship.
Now I know why. I just wanted a hug, but he denied me because I was a “hairy mess.” Seeing Finn in his hair-covered Bigfoot form must have horrified him from a grooming level. I try to suppress my giggle but fail.
“What?” Finn asks, his straight brown brows drawing together.
“I was thinking about how horrified Konner must have been by all your hair.” I hasten to explain myself, to erase the flicker of hurt in his brown eyes. “My ex hates body hair. He shaves or waxes everywhere.”
“Everywhere?”
“Everywhere. Only things left are eyebrows and the hair on top of his head.”
He looks down at my hand resting on his arm. That’s when I realize I’m unconsciously running my thumb lightly over the hair, like I’m petting him. It’s my turn to flush as I still my thumb but leave my hand there.
Finn looks back up at me, one eyebrow raised high. “Oh?”
“I thought of how seeing you in Bigfoot form must have freaked him out in so many ways. You’re intimidating.
” He opens his mouth to respond, but I squeeze his arm.
“You only appear that way because you’re so tall and masculine.
Add in all that hair and you’re Konner’s worst nightmare. He’s meticulous.”
Finn’s jaw hardens, and a steel wall closes down over his eyes. I said something wrong. Of course I said something wrong.
“Ack. I’m so sorry. I’m not helping. It’s a good thing. Konnor is a twinkie-headed twit who couldn’t find his way out of the woods if he had GPS and a dedicated tour guide. He’s, you know, not...competent. You’re competent.”
“Because of my...arm hair?”
I hide my face with my hands and muffle a groan. “I’m sorry.”
His delicious chuckle skitters down my spine and tempts me out of hiding. “Relax, Shelby,” he says. “I understand what you mean. I’m grateful people don’t want to mess with me. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
Oh, I bet he’s a lover all right. I wish I had firsthand knowledge. Please let me have a poker face for once in my life so I didn’t just broadcast that with my expression. But Finn’s nostrils flare on a sharp inhale. Fudgesicles. I think my face clearly said what my words did not.
Dinner. We need to eat dinner.
“Beer okay?” Finn asks. There’s a pink tinge to his cheeks. My insides get mushy seeing him flustered.
“Yep!” The word pops out from between my lips just a little too cheerfully.
Keep your eyes up, Shelby. I’m trying to tell myself that as he goes inside to get the beers, but my eyes aren’t listening.
They keep checking out the round globes of his ass and appreciating his long, muscular legs dusted with dark hair.
He changed out of his uniform while I was recording my video.
He’s in gray knit shorts and a navy blue T-shirt that hugs his biceps.
He is so sexy. From the top of his chocolate-brown hair that is slightly shaggy to the tip of his really, really big...
feet, he is so gorgeous. He returns and places a cold bottle right next to my plate then settles in at his own spot.
I want to hold my bottle to my cheek to relieve my flushed face, but I’ve been enough of a hot mess tonight already.
The sun is setting while the twilight sounds of animals rustling through the marsh grasses surround us.
“This is so peaceful,” I say, taking a couple of pictures of the view and then my dinner. “You are so fortunate to live here.”
Finn’s brow is furrowed when he holds up his beer bottle for a toast, and I clink it with mine before we both take a drink.
“You take a lot of pictures.”
I shrug. “Yeah, I do.” Hopefully the defensiveness I’m starting to feel isn’t creeping into my voice.
“For work?”
Is it more acceptable if that’s why? I’m not sure how to answer. But I’m going to try anyway. Because a man with eyes that kind can’t be aiming to hurt me.
“Sometimes. Other times it’s because I want to make sure I don’t forget. Pictures are important.”
“So is being in the moment.”
My shoulders tense. I hear this all the time. It’s possible to be in the moment and record it too. It doesn’t have to be either-or.