Whatever Tommy could dream up, Ken could engineer it, be it mechanical, chemical or computer. Frankly, Trisha couldn’t decide which one she liked more. Each man had his pros and cons, but the Tommy-Ken duo was so magical she could barely see them as separate beings. She looked at them more like a symbiotic unit. There would be no coming between them. She wouldn’t dare. Instead, she planned to figure out a way to have both.
Tommy returned with a big, snuggly beach towel, taking the knapsack from her shoulder before wrapping the terrycloth material around her. She flashed him her best smile. “Sorry, I’m a little late. I hit a drive-thru and picked up some soft tacos for you two. They’re in the bag.”
Tommy’s eyes lit up at the mention of tacos—a favorite of his and Ken’s. “Yummy!” His gaze caressed her chest before shyly peeping up at her face. Trisha rubbed the towel over her exposed skin, but her wet clothes clung to her, chilling her body.
“Take them off,” Ken said without so much as blinking. Trisha looked his way, taking in his soft features. He still had the fresh face of a boy, but his lean, muscular body told the real story. Ken wasn’t tall like Tommy, nor did he have his broad shoulders and sturdy build, but his lean, wiry frame held amazing muscular definition. If she had been any other girl, Ken’s choice of words might have earned him a slap across the face, but Trisha understood his communication skills were weak. He wasn’t spouting an opportunistic come-on; his suggestion came from genuine concern. The corners of her lips turned upward. “Will you turn around?”
Ken didn’t reply, simply turning his back to her. Tommy answered for both of them, “Sure, take whatever you need.” She knew the offer to use their shower to warm up went without saying as so many things did between the three of them.
Ken piped up. “My clothes are smaller.”
Trisha stripped down to the skin, collecting her wet clothes in the towel before trotting off to the bathroom via Tommy’s bedroom. She dropped the soppy bundle right down in the sink and peeped in the mirror hanging over the top. She looked bedraggled as hell. After carefully removing the ponytail holder keeping her dripping wet hair pulled tightly up on top of her head, she scrunched her brownish-blonde locks with her hands. Reaching into the shower stall, she turned on the nozzle before hanging a fresh towel over the stall’s door. She waited a few seconds until the steam started to build before stepping inside and standing under the rushing water.
As the sultry warmth covered her skin and her body temperature regulated, Trisha took the opportunity to freshen up a little, borrowing some of Tommy’s shampoo and Ken’s body wash, relishing the dueling scents. The citrusy shampoo brought to mind Tommy’s beautiful, nearly shoulder-length locks while the lavender fragrance of Ken’s body wash reminded her of the time he had put his hands around her waist to help her when she had failed miserably at climbing over a relatively low fence.
The boys had accompanied her and some of her sorority sisters to an annual horse race that had always been more about tailgating and boozing than watching the sport. She’d drunk a little too much and was sure she would fall to her death while straddling the four feet high, wooden, horse-lot fence, but Ken came to her rescue, making her feel like a princess. Trisha shook her head at the embarrassing memory and turned off the water before she dried off.
Stepping out onto the damp bathmat, she checked herself out in the mirror. The fresh-faced, no make-up look was fine. Her skin was clear, and her dark brown eyes and eyebrows kept her from looking washed out, but she had to do something about her wet, limp-looking locks. Surely, Tommy had some mousse in the cabinet under the sink. Trisha squatted to open the door and take a look. Wow! That’s a lot of condoms. She frowned, green with envy. Oh well, at least the guys are being safe with all those lucky ladies.
Spotting the hair product she needed, Trisha grabbed the bottle, snagging Tommy’s hairdryer too. After squeezing a large dollop of mousse on her palm, she worked the foamy, white substance through her hair, scrunching the strands to bring out her perm’s spiral curls. She turned the dryer on low. While continuing to fluff her locks with her hands, she moved the dryer from one side of her head to the other until she had a head full of dry, flowing curls. After returning the dryer and mousse to where they belonged, she ran her hands through her hair, arranging the strands around her face. She rummaged through Ken’s cabinet, ignoring his comb and brush but grabbing his lip balm and helping herself. If this is the closest I can get to a kiss, I’ll take it.
Trisha made her way into Ken’s room, finding the clothes he had laid out for her on his bed, including a white, World Wildlife Federation T-shirt with pictures of endangered animals on the front, and a pair of dark blue, gym shorts. She eyed the clothing. Ken was a slender guy, but her bone structure was smaller. Nevertheless, once she got the pants on, pulled the drawstring as tight as she could, and tucked over the waistband, they were snug enough to stay in place. She held up the shirt and scrunched up her nose. Her bra had been drenched, and even though she didn’t have a huge rack, going braless in a thin, white T-shirt would result in so much bouncing and see-through
