“Aren’t you going to change?”
I jump at the sound of his voice, then clutch my stomach as I take him in.
He’s shirtless.
Scratching his head, Dax stands in the wide doorway with a pair of jeans hung low on his hips. A small sheen of sweat and water runs down between his aforementioned rock-hard pecs.
I follow that line of sweat down to his defined abs, to the V below…
“Are you okay?” He draws his eyebrows together and steps forward.
I clear my throat and focus on the clothes on the counter. Holding them up, I smile. “Yes. Be right back.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“I was just… nothing.” I shrug, my throat suddenly dry.
I’m definitely out of shape. I’m dehydrated and tired from moving. We got into town late last night and spent most of today unpacking, so I’m exhausted.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, there’s the tiny fact that I haven’t seen a man’s bare chest in ages. Dax may just be my friend, but I’m still a woman who can appreciate a defined, tan chest.
“You’ve changed,” I blurt, and my face immediately heats.
He places his hands on the edge of the counter and leans forward. His triceps flex with the movement, drawing my attention to his arms and back to his strong chest, to the light dusting of sandy blond hair there.
Wow.
“Nah, I’m the same.” He winks, pulling me out of my trance.
I shift but quickly realize I don’t know where I’m going to change. I whip back around and catch his gaze low, like it was on my lower back as I retreated. Odd. “Bathroom?”
“You can use the one down the hall, or the one in the guest room. I can wait.” He hooks his thumb behind him, and I move in that direction in a daze. “I came out to grab a towel. You need one?” He reaches behind him, his back muscles moving as he stretches his arm up above the dryer for a folded towel. I thank him when he hands me one and disappear into the guest room.
As I change, I chalk the sudden tension up to my exhaustion. Sleep doesn’t come easily to me anymore, nor do social skills. After we received Mitch’s diagnosis, I closed myself off from most of the world, focusing solely on him and Jacob.
But no more.
I promised myself before we moved out here that I would try. I’d put myself back out there to find friends and a semblance of happiness, for my son’s sake and my own.
I promised my mom. My best friend in Atlanta, Melanie, swore to me that if I didn’t try, she’d fly out here and wrangle me like her daddy taught her on the ranch.
Her statement, coupled with her Southern accent, made me laugh.
I’m glad to be here in Sunnyville, but I miss Melanie and my job in Atlanta. I’d built a life there for over ten years, after all.
But things don’t always pan out the way you expect. I found out the hard way that I can’t control everything around me.
I sigh, studying my reflection in the mirror. Instead of going down a dark path, I quickly change into dry clothes. With a deep breath, I exit the bedroom.
I just need a good night’s sleep.
Maybe even a drink.
“Let’s meet up for a drink later, if you’re up for it,” Staci tells Dax as they stand on opposite sides of the kitchen counter, a bag of pretzels between them. He has a new shirt on, and his hair is effortlessly messy. It’s different than his tamed appearance when he was at the hospital.
Staci smiles at me. “Hey, Clara. You too. Join us for a beer at Hooligan’s tonight.”
“That sounds great, and I’d love to.” I glance through the window outside. “But I have to get Jacob home. The last two days have been very crazy. Definitely next time, though.”
“Totally understand. I don’t blame you.” She flips her fiery red hair over her shoulder as another guy walks in with a water bottle in his hand. “Text me if you can make it,” she says to Dax.
The other guy takes a swig, then wipes his stubbled chin with the back of his hand. I recognize him from the hospital—Brooks. He’d popped his head into the small party earlier.
“You ready?” he asks Staci. “I need to change. I’ve been in these clothes for over twelve hours, much longer than is socially acceptable.”
“Yeah, prima donna. Calm your dick.” She rolls her eyes, then comes toward me with open arms. “Glad you’re here,” she says warmly. “Now you and Dax can stop your FaceTime nonsense. If I had to hear him complain about the terrible reception at the hospital one more time, I’d jam a scalpel in my eye.”
My stomach involuntarily flutters that Dax cared so much about talking to me that he’d complain to her about reception.
“Now who’s the prima donna? Calm your tits,” Brooks mocks, then smiles at me. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Brooks. I work with these two assholes, as you know, and I live with that one”—he points to Staci—“and it’s been a damn delight.”
I shake his hand. “You’re the new guy in town. Dax told me you just recently completed your fellowship.”
“That’s why his hair is already graying—cardiothoracics takes about a thousand years.” Staci pops a pretzel in her mouth.
“Hey”—Brooks touches his hair, turning to Dax, his eyes wide—“I do not have gray hairs.”
I stifle my laugh behind my hand.
“Take him home before he makes me drive him to the nearest CVS for hair dye,” Dax joins in.
“Don’t call it his home. It’s mine.” Staci crosses her arms.
“Did I mention how great it is to be living with you?” Brooks claps his hands. “If I would’ve known you’d jump on my ass the whole time, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
“You wouldn’t have to live with me in the first place if you wouldn’t have gotten yourself kicked out of your girlfriend’s house.”
“It’s my house,”
