Chapter 19
Ainsley
“Thank you! Tell all your friends to come get their car washed today.”
Marie made breakfast burritos under a tent and sold them to the people waiting, and at noon she switched to lunch.
She made enough trays of food to feed an army, and I’m thankful she did because I did not anticipate having this many customers.
I made sure to supply her with a comfy chair, and plenty of water.
She doesn’t know I know about her MS, but I do and Marie’s health comes before anything.
A bunch of the JV moms brought baked goods and ended up selling out within an hour. Two of them left to throw another batch of cookies in for the afternoon session.
My head spins as I try to calculate how much money we’ll be walking away with at the end of the day.
And it’s all thanks to Landon’s idea.
Landon...
Who I’ve been actively avoiding, which is close to impossible since we work together almost all seven days of the week.
Evan walks over and nods my way. “You good?”
“I’m better than good. I can’t believe this turnout.”
“I know, this is great. Wish we would’ve thought of this when we were kids.”
“Seriously.” I squint up at him. “Thanks for all your help today.”
“Anytime, kiddo.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Think he might need some help though.”
I glance across the street and clamp my hand over my mouth. Mrs. Wallaby, the school’s seventy-year-old music teacher, stuffs a dollar bill into the waistband of Landon’s swim trunks as he leans over to wash her car. Several of the lacrosse moms ogle him from nearby.
I clamp my hand over my mouth. “Quinn, tell me you’re getting this on video.”
She lifts her phone. “And we thought we’d run into trouble with what the girls were wearing.”
Landon has on a short-sleeve tee, so as to not make things inappropriate with the kids around. But with the way the wet cotton clings to his muscles, he might as well be shirtless.
I cup my hands around my mouth as I shout. “Work it, Coach! Make those tips!”
The moms cheer in unison, and if looks could kill, Landon’s glare would strike me dead.
Quinn and I cackle like witches.
As the afternoon lull dies down, I leave Quinn and check on Marie. “How’s it going over here?”
She smiles up at me and clasps my hand, tugging me down to sit in the folding chair beside her. “I’m good. This was an amazing turnout.”
“It really was. I can’t wait to see how much money we raised.” I sweep my gaze down her body. “How do you feel? You can head home if you want to. You’ve done more than enough today.”
Marie side-eyes me. “Landon told you about my diagnosis?”
I nod. “He did.”
She gives me a sheepish smile. “If I’m being honest, I think Landon thinks this is a death sentence. But I’m okay. I have my good days and bad days. I wish he wouldn’t worry so much about me.”
I glance at him, talking with Ivori and Evan by the drying station. “Knowing him, he carries a lot of guilt about leaving you for all these years. I bet he’s trying to make up for lost time.”
“Funny, I don’t think I’m the only one he feels guilty about leaving.” Marie watches me with the same keen eyes that Landon has. “I’m glad you two are working together again. It broke my heart to see you have a fallout the way you did.”
“Him coming back definitely gave us closure.”
“Or opened you up to new beginnings.” She shoots me a wink as she uses the back of my chair to push out of hers.
No. No new beginnings. No almost-kisses.
I pretend like I don’t know what she’s talking about. “If you think of lifting your finger to clean a thing, I’m going to lock you in your bedroom.” I snap my fingers at the girls standing around nearby. “Freshman, you’re on cleanup duty.”
Shreeya and Jayden both salute me. “Yes, Coach.”
“You telling my team what to do, Morgan?” Landon calls from the road, his nose scrunched and one eye closed from the sun.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Fletcher.”
“Uh-huh. A likely story.”
I glare at the JV girls and drag my finger across my neck. Don’t rat me out, or else.
They giggle as they head off to dry the last car in line.
Both teams stay behind to help clean up, and then Landon orders pizza for dinner. The crew piles into his backyard, breaking out their bead boxes and making team bracelets for tomorrow’s away games.
“Go hang with your mom,” I say, dumping a bucket of sudsy water into the sewer drain. “You must be tired from shaking that ass for tips all day.”
He chuckles as he wrings out a sponge. “You enjoyed that, did you?”
“Hell yeah.” I waggle my eyebrows. “I love me some Magic Mike.”
“Ainsley Morgan.” Landon presses his hand against his chest. “That sounds very sexist of you, reducing me to my body.”
I lift the hose off the ground and squirt him with it. “You loved it.”
He steps toward me, eyes blazing as he stalks me like his prey. “I think it’s funny how you’re the only one who didn’t get wet today.”
I hold up the hose in front of me in warning as I back away from him. “I was running the cash register. I had a very important job.”
“Everyone got their hands dirty at some point.” He arches a devious brow and he moves closer. “Except you.”
My eyes dart around the yard, mapping out my escape route. “Money is quite dirty, I’ll have you know. At least you were using soap.”
“Then I guess it’s time you get cleaned up.” Within the blink of an eye, Landon snatches a sudsy water bucket off the ground and takes off running toward me.
I spray him as I run, but soon run out of hose and have to toss it onto the grass as I bolt.
Landon is quicker than I remember, and soapy water crashes over my head from behind. The bite of the temperature stops me in my tracks.
I let out a high-pitched shriek. “It’s cold!”
Landon’s head tips back as his laughter bellows. “That’s what you get for laughing at me when I slipped in the mud at your house.”
I wring out my ponytail, giggling as the image of Landon falling replays in my mind. “You looked like a literal cartoon slipping on a banana peel. It was hilarious.”
He shakes his head, wearing a grin. “Come inside and I’ll give you some dry clothes to change into.”
I follow him into his open garage. “What’s the matter, you don’t want to strip down to your underwear in the middle of the neighborhood again?”
“If you wanna see me naked again, Morgan, all you have to do is ask.” Landon reaches back and pulls his shirt up and over his head, twisting the fabric to release the water inside of it.
His biceps flex with the motion, and his pecs squeeze together.
Droplets of water trail down the ridges of his stomach, and my gaze snags on the dark-brown hairs leading into the waistband of his shorts.
I blink, snapping myself out of the lust-filled trance. “I didn’t see you naked. And I don’t want to.”
Landon chuckles as he leads me into the basement, which has been transformed into an entire mini-apartment since the last time I was down here years ago.
“Is this where you’re staying now?” I don’t know why I assumed he’d be living in his old bedroom upstairs.
He nods, walking to his wooden dresser and digging into a drawer. “It’s more private for the both of us if I’m down here.”
“You renovated this whole thing?” It was a dingy, unfinished basement from what I remember. Now, it’s painted with stainless steel appliances in a kitchenette, a King-sized bed and a flatscreen TV.
“Hence me wanting to help you with your house.”
I turn toward him but my response dies on my tongue.
Landon drops his shorts to his shoes, and kicks out of them, toeing off his sneakers at the same time.
God damn.
My skin heats. My fingers twitch at my sides, like they’re craving the feel of his skin. Like they want to memorize the perfect V-shape of his hip bones. Like they’re begging me to reach out and thread them through his neat happy trail, and find what it’s leading to.
Charcoal gray boxers greet me instead of the black ones from last week, allowing me the opportunity to see the large outline of him bulging through the material.
My eyebrows jump, impressed, as heat simmers low in my core.
But I don’t stop there. Landon stands perfectly still, watching me as I drag my gaze down to his legs.
Strong and thick, he still has the thighs of an athlete who spends his days running up and down a field.
Every woman has her thing, the one thing they love on a man that isn’t his dick.
For me, it’s legs. Nothing more attractive than a man who keeps himself fit from the waist down. Too many men focus on their showy muscles—chest, biceps, and abs—or beach muscles, as I like to call them. Landon has those in spades, but something about his legs just does it for me.
“Thought you didn’t want to see me naked,” he says, his voice low and raspy.
“I don’t.” My words lack conviction. “I’m just waiting for you to give me a change of clothes.”
He tosses me a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from the open drawer. “Bathroom’s behind you.”
Then he hooks his thumbs into the elastic waistband on his underwear. Waiting.
Waiting for me.
To leave, or stay, I’m not sure.
Excitement buzzes in my veins, coursing through me like a mind-altering drug.
I shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t play into his little game. But I can’t seem to stop myself from pushing him further, and seeing how much it’ll take him to snap.
Why do I want him to snap?
I need to take control of the situation. He’s toying with me, and he knows it. It’s my turn to leave him horny and frustrated.
I peel my soaked T-shirt over my head, and drop it to the floor, relishing in the way his eyes darken.
I slide my hands down my stomach and run my fingers along the waistband of my shorts, my heart slamming into my chest.
Then I tug my shorts down to my shoes. Taking my time, I drag them down my legs and step out of them, brushing them to the side with my discarded shirt.
Landon groans as his eyes linger on my panties.
In nothing but my sports bra and thong, I stand before Landon, in nothing but his boxer-briefs.
Staring.
We take our time appreciating one another, until my gaze hits his lush mouth.