12. Chapter 12
No other cocks need apply.
Popping another cherry Starburst into my mouth, I read over the romantic scene I’m working on. I’ve eaten at least a pound of my favorite candies over the past day. I really should get on some kind of workout program, but I don’t want to.
The result of me holing up in my cottage for the past twenty-something hours produced eleven chapters. Damn good ones too. My argument with Reno sparked something in my brain, and I’ve been a writing machine since I booted him out.
Drawing on the anger and disappointment, I pounded out some of the best emotional scenes I’d ever written. I’m still polishing this one, but I sent the others to Holly and Eden a few hours ago.
A twinge jabs my lower back, and I decide I’m done for a little while. Standing from the desk chair in the corner of my bedroom, I stretch my hands above my head, lengthening my spine. It feels amazing after sitting for so long.
I’m supposed to go over to Chris and Inge’s cabin at nine for game night or whatever they have planned, but it’s only five now. I have plenty of time to take a walk down to the beach and then maybe grab a bite to eat.
A frisson of guilt pokes me in the gut. Someone’s been sending food to my room, and I’m pretty sure it’s Reno, even though I ditched him for dinner last night.
Stop it, Juliette. You have no reason to feel guilty. Reno Swain is a judgmental asshole who doesn’t deserve your time. That little fact hasn’t stopped me from replaying his lips on mine in an unending loop. I practically made a damn mental movie trailer out of our time on top of the hill.
After using the restroom, I search for my sandals. The right one is beside the back door, but the left one seems to have grown legs and walked away. Mumbling curses, I drop to my knees and search the floor, finally locating it beneath the bed.
With both feet now shod, I go to the back door and pause with my hand on the button when I hear water running. Is that the toilet? I traipse back to the bathroom and find that the toilet is fine and the noise seems to be coming from outside.
Peeping through the blinds, I have a perfect view of cottage five’s back porch. More specifically, the outdoor shower. And even more specifically, Reno Swain in said shower.
He’s wearing nothing but navy and white swim trunks, and his eyes are closed, head tilted back as he scrubs at his hair.
While I watch like a stalkery little stalker, he rubs his hands over his ripped torso.
The man is pure beefcake, with broad shoulders and a chest a woman could curl up on and take a catnap.
His chest has a bit of hair, which tapers down into the happiest little happy trail ever. I like hair on a man. Not like a bear on Rogaine, but I find a nice smattering quite masculine.
My eyes drop to those abs that look like they’ve been carved of tan granite. Sharp lines demarcate each muscle so clearly you can count them. So I do. There are eight of them. Eight!
I’m like the Count on Sesame Street. Vun muscle I’d like to lick syrup from. Twooo muscles I’d like to lick syrup from. Threeee—
Before I can get any farther, he drops his swim trunks.
And there’s his penis. Yep. Right there. And the damn thing deserves its own zip code. It’s not erect, but I can still see that his length and girth are impressive.
Forget all the dicks in my Inspirational Cocks folder. Reno Swain is my folder now. The whole damn thing. No other cocks need apply .
He rotates slowly, giving me a view of a muscular, creamy ass. And it’s not the only thing getting creamy , my very filthy mind thinks as I squeeze my thighs together.
The show is over way too quickly, and I only get one more brief glance of his, ahem, frontal assets before he’s wrapping a towel around his waist, covering what’s hidden between those tan lines on his abdomen and upper thighs.
And can we just talk about the thighs for a second?
I remove my fingers and let the gap close in the blinds, but I can still picture those thick quads and hammies that bunched beneath that golden skin as he turned in the spray of the shower.
The man could crack my skull with his brawny upper legs, and I was surprisingly okay with that.
I mean, who needs a skull when my brain is already mush?
No, Juli. You are mad at him, remember?
Yes, but maybe we could duct tape his mouth to shut him the hell up while we…
Absolutely not. He’s a jerk.
Sighing, I exit cottage four without a backward glance at cottage five—and the penis and thighs that currently reside there.
When I return from my walk, I get a text notification from Holly.
Holly: Just read the latest. Who hurt you, babe?
I burst into laughter as I unlock my back door and enter my bedroom. Another message comes in before I can reply.
Holly: Never mind. FaceTiming you.
As I slip off my shoes and flop onto the bed, my phone rings, and I answer it, smiling at her beautiful face. “ Hey, woman.”
“Someone wanted to see his Aunt Juli,” she sings, bending and picking up something… or more accurately, someone .
The most adorable child ever created pops onto my screen with a scream. “Chewyyyy!”
“Aidennnnn!” I yell back.
All his tiny teeth are visible when he laughs. He seriously has the best laugh, mouth open and emitting nothing but pure, childlike joy.
“My Chewy!” he insists, pointing at me. My nephew is thirteen months old and can’t quite pronounce Aunt Juli, so I’m Chewy.
“I am your Chewy,” I assure him. “And you’re my Aiden.”
He blows me about ten enthusiastic kisses in a row, which I return with equal fervor. Holly watches our interaction with a smile, her nose buried in his black curls that are streaked with umber.
Then, as if showing me so much love has completely tired him out, he leans back into his mother and yawns. “Night nights, Chewy,” he tells me before closing his sweet brown eyes.
“Night nights, baby boy,” I say quietly, but he’s already snoozing.
“I swear, I’ve never seen another kid who can go to sleep at the drop of a hat,” Holly says, readjusting her son onto her shoulder.
“Tell me what he smells like,” I request, missing all the senses my little nephew brings to the table.
Holly presses her button nose into the light brown cheek of the toddler. “He smells soft, like baby lotion and…” She gives him a deeper sniff and scrunches her face. “And a little bit like wet dog. He helped me bathe Chester earlier.”
I laugh. “Go lay him down. I’ll wait.”
The view on the screen switches to the ceiling of their home for a few minutes before she returns and picks up her phone. “I swear, I’m the luckiest mom in the world. Aiden is such a good sleeper.”
“His eating is excellent too. He pretty much eats anything you give him.”
Holly snuggles back against the couch. “He does. They always say if your first kid is easy, your second one will be a hellion. I’m sure this next one is going to refuse to eat anything and will want to party like a rock star all night long.”
I freeze at the same she does, both of us realizing what she’d just said aloud. “ This next one? ” I repeat, excitement bubbling in my belly. “Holly, are you pregnant?”
“Shit.” My sister-in-law face palms herself and groans, “Didn’t mean to say that. Bubba and I wanted to surprise you when you got back. He’s already picked out a T-shirt to give you and everything.”
“I won’t say a word, and I’ll act surprised,” I assure her, bouncing in place on the bed. “Eeeee, I’m so excited, Holly. Tell me everything.”
“Well, I went to the doctor this morning for a regular checkup, and bam! He walked in and told me my urinalysis showed that I’m expecting. I almost fell off the table.”
“How far along are you?”
“Haven’t seen my OB yet, but Dr. Fergus estimated that I’m only about six weeks.”
“Soooo, around January?” I ask, doing a quick calculation in my head. She nods. “Is Bubba excited?”
Her laughter is a bubble of happiness. “What do you think? He’s about to freaking burst at the seams. He immediately called my OB’s office and made an appointment for tomorrow, even though I’m a grown-ass woman who is capable of making her own doctor’s appointments.”
“He loves taking care of you,” I say softly, loving the shit out of my brother right then.
Holly nods. “He does. He’s such a nurturer. I’m a lucky woman.”
“You are indeed. I hope I can find someone half as good as him one day.” A bitter edge cuts through my next words. “But I’m sure I won’t. I’ve been spoiled with awesome male figures in my life, and it will be hard for anyone to live up to them.”
“There are still good men out there, Jules. You’ll find someone,” she says before turning the subject around. “So, I ask again, who hurt you? Because that was some angsty shit you wrote.”
“You liked it?”
“Loved it. Very dramatic, but you managed to make it funny too. Anna’s ranting monologue was epically hilarious.”
“Thanks.” Holly stares at me, waiting with arched brows until I blow out a long exhale. She’s not going to let this go. “You know that guy I was telling you about?”
“Ah, the mystery man that you actually told me very little about? Sir Forearms?”
“That would be the one. We spent some time together on Monday, and then we went back to my cottage.”
Holly lifts and lowers her shoulders one at a time in an anticipatory kind of dance. “Ooh, give me all the juicy details.”
“Jesus, the man can kiss,” I whine. “And he’s so freaking gorgeous it almost hurts my eyeballs to look at him.”
“And?” she asks with a hint of impatience.
“And he’s an asshole. He insulted my lifestyle. ”
My sister-in-law goes into indignant mode, her hazel eyes flashing. “What the hell does that mean? You’re a librarian, for fuck’s sake.”