Chapter 11 #2
As much as he ever promised anything. “Yes, ma’am.”
She gave his arm a squeeze, enveloping him in her scent, a combination of roses, coffee creamer, and what strangely smelled of gold. “Good boy.”
He waited a good five minutes after she went inside to strip off his shirt.
Greer drove up to Raylene’s B&B and found Alex’s car at the curb.
What was he doing here when he should be thinking about the darn competition?
As many sketches as he’d drawn for Delaney, surely he’d put a little time into something that could net him both PBC’s business and a decent chunk of change.
Because she had no doubt Alex could win the whole thing, even if she wasn’t the one judging.
Greer jogged up the five wide steps to Sweetwater’s front door and rang the bell. She waited several minutes before punching it once more. If Raylene didn’t answer this time, Greer would just let herself into the backyard. Rude, but she needed to talk with Alex.
The door opened, and Raylene stood there fanning herself.
“Are you okay,” Greer asked. “Do you need to sit down?”
“Oh, Lord have mercy, girl. Pretty sure I’m having one of those hormone surges.”
“Hot flash, huh?”
“Depends on whether or not a man mowing your grass can bring on a hot flash.”
“Are you saying Alex Villanueva is mowing your grass?” Greer rushed past Raylene and hustled toward the kitchen. “C’mon. Hurry.”
“What are you—”
“I don’t want to miss this.” Greer skidded to a stop in the middle of the kitchen, with a view out the windows over Raylene’s sink, just as Alex shrugged out of his button-up shirt.
“Greer Maddox—” Raylene started.
Greer grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side so they were both obscured from Alex’s view by the cabinets but could still peek out at him. “Hush. Don’t blow this for me.”
“For you. Well, I—”
Greer squeezed her fingers. “Shush.”
“Young lady, did you just shush me?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want him to hear or see us.”
“Why in the world would you…” Raylene eased a couple of inches toward the window. Her mouth opened, her jaw worked, but no sound came out.
This was wrong. Alex would have a shit fit if he knew they were spying on him like a couple of giddy twelve-year-old girls. Greer pulled Raylene back. “I’ve changed my mind. We need to stop. He wouldn’t like us looking at him.”
“Ho…ho…holy molasses.”
“I can’t stand it.” Greer raised herself until she could just see over the edge of the window sill. Her thighs protested at the awkward position, but they could quit their grumbling. The sight in front of her was worth a million charley horses.
Alex had pulled off his own shirt and was wiping the sweat from his face with it. Then he dropped the shirt at his feet, revealing his chest and belly.
“God is good,” Raylene whispered hoarsely, climbing her way up the cabinet.
Greer bumped her back down. They couldn’t afford to get caught ogling Alex. And realistically, she wanted to be the only one ogling him.
Art. That was what this man’s body was. A museum should build a glass case around him and attach a donation box. Screw endowments. The place would have all the money they ever needed from women stuffing twenty dollar bills in that box.
His arms and shoulders were thick and powerful. Little, if any, hair spanned his pectorals, but she’d lay down a million-dollar bet the man didn’t wax his chest. All that smooth skin led to abs that rippled with the perfect amount of muscle.
But as delicious as all those muscles were, they were simply a canvas for what decorated them.
She’d thought Alex’s tattoos extended all the way up his arm, and they did.
Above his elbow, the serpent morphed into an intricate armored plate that covered his shoulder.
But his body art didn’t stop there. It meandered down his chest, over those abs to disappear into his jeans.
The colors and designs covered only his left half, perfectly bisecting his body.
Alex stretched a butt-ugly green T-shirt between his hands then pulled it over his head.
He squirmed and contorted, trying to work his arms and shoulders into fabric that was no match for them.
In all the movement, he turned so he faced away from Greer.
What she saw was a mirror image of his front side, with tattoos covering one shoulder blade, down his back, to once again disappear into his waistband.
There were more beneath his pants. She knew it.
But what did they all mean, and why was he tattooed on only one side of his body?
Lord, she wanted a magnifying glass, six hours, and a super-sized bottle of massage oil to spend on Alex’s body. And that was just above the waist.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Raylene said.
Crap, crap, crap. Greer had let him expose himself in a way she damn well knew he would never want.
He would kill her if he ever found out she and Raylene had spied on him.
His arms were one thing, but no one could see the designs on his lower abs and not imagine exactly where else they led.
She dropped to her knees and pulled Raylene to sit flat-butted on the kitchen floor. “We have to crawl out of here.”
“What?”
“He can’t know we were in the kitchen when he changed shirts. Let’s go.” Greer grabbed Raylene’s hand and directed her into an awkward three-limbed crawl. Once they were in the hallway that split the house, Greer sat and braced her back against the wall. “Oh. Grandma. Moses.”
“You can say that again.” Raylene shoved a hank of her Texas big hair off her forehead, which showed off her earrings, each a mermaid complete with moving tails made of iridescent blue, green, and silver scales. “Why do I feel like we just escaped from one of those James Bond movies?”
Because Greer had a hunch that Alex could be about as mean as a tank full of crocodiles if he was crossed. “He doesn’t like people looking at him.”
The snort that came from Raylene was half filled with humor, the rest with disbelief. “Surely he’s looked in a mirror and knows that’s a pipe dream.”
“He’s self-conscious about the tattoos.”
“Why in the world? They make a woman want to use her tongue on him like she’d lick the beaters after mixing up a Heaven’s Just a Sin Away chocolate cake.”
The thought of Alex’s honed body covered with a cocoa and powdered sugar frosting made Greer’s mouth go into salivation overdrive. “He thinks people will think he’s a thug.”
“Hmph,” Raylene huffed. “If those women bringing him covered dishes get a look at all that, they won’t be using Pyrex anymore. They’ll be serving up Tater Tot casserole in their C cups.”
Another reason for Alex to stay covered from head to toe. “Okay, he’s had time to wrestle his way into that shirt by now. We can walk back into the kitchen like two normal women.”
Raylene’s eyebrows hiked up. “Normal? Sugar, don’t insult me like that. By the way, you never did say what you’re doing here.”
“Looking for Alex.”
“You may have found more of him than you were searching for.”
No way. She was pretty sure she wanted the rest of him.
And she didn’t just want to admire the rest of that smoking body.
She was beginning to want something that didn’t have a thing to do with his outsides.
For some reason, she was becoming convinced she was supposed to uncover whatever was buried deep inside that man.
Supposed to reach in, wrap her hand around his heart, and bring it back to life.
Greer pulled in her feet and slid her back up the wall until she was standing. “Let’s pretend I just walked in, okay?”
“You lead,” Raylene said, “and I’ll follow.”
Greer straightened her own shirt and blew out a breath.
When they returned to the kitchen, the lawnmower was giving out a sputtering, wheezing sound, but Alex was pushing it in straight lines as though it were a professional-grade tractor.
His back muscles moved and flexed under the tight green shirt.
The fabric hugged him so tightly, he could’ve won a wet T-shirt contest without a single drop of water.
He gave the mower a shove to get over a mound of tall grass, and the shirt rode up to expose a couple of inches of his bronzed and inked lower back.
Pretend you didn’t see all that. For your sake. And for his.
“Here.” Raylene passed her a glass of ice water.
Smart woman. Greer took a couple of long swallows. Then she dipped her fingers in the glass and sprinkled droplets across her cleavage.
“That was for Alex.”
“Oh.” She quickly refilled it and headed for the back door. Stepping out onto the deck, she did an SOS wave with her free hand, trying to snag Alex’s attention.
He paused in the middle of a half-cut row, and it took the mower three-quarters of a second to sputter and die. His grip tightened on the handle, but then he just shook his head and stepped away from the machine.
“Thought you might need some water.”
“Raylene just brought me some not fifteen minutes ago.”
Why hadn’t she mentioned that? Greer strode toward him, glass in hand. “More water won’t hurt you.” She tried to keep her focus on his face—as stoic as it was—but it was lured away by a small bump under the chest of his skintight T-shirt.
The heat she was feeling had not one damn thing to do with the overhead sun. Her entire body was overheating because of that tiny bulge. Alex wore a nipple ring on the tattooed side of his body. My God, could he get any more panty-melting?
His right hand rose to cover the other side of his chest. If he was so damn ashamed of his body, why did he decorate it with jewelry and ink? Besides, being self-conscious of something that incredibly beautiful didn’t make a bit of sense.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I need you…for something,” she said. Something? She needed him for multiple things. First things first, though. “The competition registration starts first thing in the morning, but I’ve got issues. The sink is dripping in the barn’s bathroom, and only half the booths are set up.”
“I promised Raylene I’d finish her lawn within the hour.”
“That’s perfect. Registration doesn’t start until nine tomorrow morning, so we’ve got a good twenty hours to get everything ready.” She shoved the water glass into his hand and hightailed it back to the house before he could say no.