2
LEA
Well, shit.
That adorable befreckled man from the boardwalk who’d been stuck in my brain for the past few hours was Shea’s brother.
If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have made a move on him.
But holy Christ, how could anyone resist? He was fucking gorgeous.
I mean, my god, thosefreckles. There were so many of them. Everywhere!
And, of course, I’d immediately wondered if they really wereeverywhere. I’d never known that was a sight I desperately needed to see until Beau.
I knew from trading shirts with him that they covered his chest and arms. It had taken all my self-control to not ditch the wet t-shirt contest and ask him out. It was for charity, for Christ’s sake. For puppies. God, I was despicable.
But, again, I didn’t think I could be blamed. He was so, so cute. Especially that hair. It was like a cross between a really short, wide mohawk and a mullet. It really suited him. The hair around his ears was buzzed, a soft-looking fuzz that seemedlike it would feel velvety. The rest of it was grown out about an inch and was longer in the back near the nape of his neck. There was no fade whatsoever, it just jumped from buzzcut to longer hair.
I loved it.
After the contest where I’d been voted the winner—after raising three thousand dollars for puppies in need, go me—I’d looked for him, but he wasn’t where I’d left him.
He wasn’t anywhere.
I was so disappointed I couldn’t find him. I ran around for ten minutes looking for the shorter blushing man that looked so good in my shirt, but no dice.
All I’d done since was think about how I could find him again. I was honestly going to walk up and down that damn boardwalk after Shea’s brother got here to look for him.
Mais voilà.He’d fallen right into my lap.
I wish.
But he was the perfect size for my lap, I was pretty certain. He was about five or six inches shorter than me, had big brown doe eyes, and lips that had no right being as plush as they were.
And honestly, could I be blamed for not recognizing him as Shea’s brother? Beau looked and acted nothing like him.Nothing.I’d assumed he’d be a little mini Shea, but it was hard to even see how they were related. I’d only ever seen one picture of him, and he’d been ten in it. He’d very clearly grown up.
He was incredibly shy, too, which Shea was not.
They were complete opposites.
While Shea relaxed with his feet up on the table as he slouched back into the cushions, Beau—seated on the other end of the couch—looked tense. His back was ramrod straight as he stared down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers.
I’d tried to give Beau some space and had pulled one of the chairs from my little table over near Shea as the TV played quietly in the background. Shea had made lemonade earlierwhile Beau was getting set up in his room, and there was a pitcher and three glasses spread out on the coffee table, an untouched glass sitting in front of Beau.
I wished I’d placed my chair near Beau so I could get a closer look at him. He’d barely been able to look me in the eye since coming out here, and though I’d like to say I was mortified, that would be a lie. I did feel bad was for walking out of my room in just my underwear, but I had no idea they were even here. Shea was supposed to call me, which he’d failed to do or mention in the moment, making me look like some kind of deviant that got off on flashing people.
Well, under different circumstances, yes. I would definitely get off on that. With another consenting adult, of course. Someone admiring me in one of my many pieces of lingerie? Yes, please. However, in this case, it was quite clear that I’d shocked poor Beau. I felt awful for making him so uncomfortable; Shea hadn’t been lying when he said his brother was shy. I might not have an available heart, but I stillhadone. I never wanted to make anyone uncomfortable, let alone Shea’s brother.
“Darling Beau,” I said, placing a hand over my heart. “Please accept my sincerest apology for the state of undress I greeted you in, I can assure you it won’t happen again. Unless you want it to? I’m kidding!” I rushed out, holding my hands in the air as Shea scowled at me. “God, Shea, did that dildo that’s stuck up your ass make you lose your sense of humor? You should try—Oh my god, I’m joking—Shea, wait—” Shea launched himself at me, fingers digging into my rib cage as he found my ticklish spots. I screamed out a laugh, trying to shove him off me. “Okay, okay! Stop!” I gasped, bringing my leg up between us, planting it on his chest, and pushing him back.
“Stop being such a brat,” he warned, taking a step back and glaring down at me.
“Stop being such a grouch,” I panted. “What the hell, whodoes that? You’re evil, you know that? You’re making me look really bad in front of my guest-slash-new-best-friend.” I gestured at Beau, who was still staring down at his lap, his cheeks a bright red.
“Just don’t say things like that around him,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“It’s fine,” came Beau’s quiet voice. “I’m not a kid.”