Page 4 of One Hot Summer

Chapter Three

ADAM

I read over the same paragraph for the third time, but the words may as well have been written in another language for as much sense as they made. Maybe my brain had been too fried from the heat at home, or maybe it was just the monumental distraction moving around upstairs.

The distraction in question was my best friend’s father.

And not just any father, but Griffin Price, who was the hottest man I’d ever met in my life.

At least, if you liked tall, broad-shouldered, denim-blue-eyed guys with biceps bigger than most people’s thighs, and a square jaw that could have been used as a chisel. Which, apparently, I did.

Not that I had any business thinking that.

I tried to push thoughts of Dalton’s dad out of my mind and focus on my textbook, but it was a losing battle.

My eyes kept drifting to the ceiling, tracking the soft thuds of footsteps above.

What was he doing up there? Unpacking? Changing clothes?

The mental image of him shirtless made my cheeks burn.

This was ridiculous. I was acting like some lovesick teenager with a crush, not a mature college student.

But there was just something about Mr. Price that got under my skin in the best possible way.

Maybe it was the quiet confidence he exuded, or the kindness in his eyes when he told me I could stay.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. I needed to get a grip.

I looked back at my textbook and tried to focus on neural networks, but my own neural network was fully preoccupied with the fact that an incredibly sexy man was just above me, probably shirtless, probably toweling off after a shower, probably?—

Nope. Not going there. I refused to be that pervert.

I wasn’t going to fantasize about Dalton’s dad.

I wasn’t. I was, however, going to remember every time the man had walked into our apartment, his dress shirts looking like they’d been designed specifically for his arms. Or the time last year when he’d shown up at the end of the semester, tie loose around his neck and a five o’clock shadow, giving him an edgy and slightly dangerous appearance.

But now, away from the city and the corporate polish, there was something different about him.

He’d shown up wearing an old T-shirt and faded jeans, and his hair—thicker and darker than his son’s—was slightly rumpled, like he’d just run his hands through it.

Even the way he walked was different. Less like a CEO, more like someone who belonged in the mountains.

It was wildly unfair that a man could be attractive in so many different environments.

I would have been happy just to pick one.

A floorboard creaked in the upstairs hallway. I startled upright, suddenly aware I was clutching my book so hard my knuckles were white. I put on my most innocent face, like someone who was definitely reading about algorithms and not daydreaming about the man upstairs.

He appeared at the top of the stairs, pausing for a second to take in the view.

In daylight, with the sun pouring in through the cabin windows, Griffin Price was almost too much to look directly at.

He’d changed into a gray V-neck and a pair of dark jeans, and despite the fact that he had clearly showered, there was still a subtle shadow along his jawline.

My heart did a full-on drum solo against my ribs.

“Hey, Adam,” he said, making his way downstairs. His voice was low and even, and I wondered briefly if he’d been born with confidence.

I swallowed, a little too loudly. “Hey. Uh, I hope you don’t mind, I made coffee. There’s some left if you want it.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I’ll grab a cup.”

I watched him move across the room, all effortless grace and casual power, and I had to physically force my gaze back to my book.

It didn’t work. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him pouring coffee, leaning a hip against the counter, sipping like he was actually savoring it.

The man could have been in a freaking coffee commercial.

He wandered into the living room and sat down in the armchair opposite me. For a moment, neither of us said anything. I kept my eyes glued to the page, even though I wasn’t actually reading any of it.

“So,” he said, after a sip, “you said you were taking summer classes. What are you working on?”

I blinked. “Um, mostly advanced stuff. Neural networks, machine learning. It’s a lot. Makes me wish I had a time machine so I could warn my freshman self not to overload on credits.”

He chuckled, and it made my skin tingle. “That’s impressive. I don’t even pretend to understand what you just said, but it sounds tough.”

“It is,” I admitted, “but it’s kind of fascinating?

Like, you build this little digital brain, and then you just watch it learn how to do things you never explicitly taught it.

Sometimes it screws up spectacularly, and sometimes it just…

works.” I shrugged, self-conscious. “Sorry. That probably sounded nerdy.”

“Not at all,” he said, and for some reason, I believed him. “It sounds like you’re passionate about it. That’s what matters.”

I smiled, just a little. “Thanks. Most people just nod and pretend to listen.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. “What makes you think I’m not doing the same?” I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing witty came out, so I just laughed. It was a relief when he smiled back, genuinely.

He looked around the room, taking it all in. “You know, I haven’t been up here in a while. I forgot how peaceful it is.”

“It’s kind of amazing,” I agreed. “Like being on a different planet.”

He nodded, finishing off his coffee in two swallows. “You picked a good time to come up. Weather’s perfect for hiking or just sitting on the deck doing nothing.”

“Doing nothing is pretty high on my to-do list,” I said. Then, “If that’s okay with you. I can stay out of your way, if you’d rather be alone.”

He tilted his head, as if genuinely considering it. “Nah. It’s better with company.” I didn’t know what to do with that, so I just nodded and pretended to be extremely interested in my textbook again.

After a moment, he stood up. “I’m going to check the kitchen, see if there’s anything worth making for lunch.” He disappeared into the next room, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

My brain did a quick replay of the conversation.

I hadn’t made a complete idiot of myself, but I also hadn’t been able to stop staring at him like some googly-eyed teenager.

I ran a hand through my own hair, groaning softly.

Get it together, Ramsey. I waited until I heard the sound of cabinets opening and closing, then cautiously followed him into the kitchen.

He was peering into the fridge, brow furrowed.

“I’m afraid there’s not much in there.”

“Not unless you count a bottle of ketchup and some expired tonic water,” he said, closing the fridge. “I usually call for a grocery delivery, but this whole trip was kind of a last-minute decision. I figured I’d just order something once I got here.”

I nodded, grateful for the opportunity to do something that did not involve staring at the man. “If you want, I can run into town and grab some stuff. I was planning to go later today anyway.”

He smiled, flashing his perfect teeth. “That’d be great. Or, better yet, we could go together. Make an outing of it. That is, if you don’t mind the company.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. “Sure. That sounds good.” He gave me a long look, and for a second, I felt like he could see straight through me—all the way to the huge crush I’d been harboring since the very first time we’d met.

“Cool,” he said, slapping the countertop lightly. “I’ll just grab my keys, and we can head out whenever you’re ready.”

“Sounds good,” I replied, my voice only cracking a little bit.

As he disappeared upstairs, I leaned against the counter and tried to steady my heartbeat.

A few weeks. Just a few weeks in this cabin with Griffin Price.

I could do this. All I had to do was not humiliate myself, not drool, and definitely not think about his arms or his jaw or…

I closed my eyes and thumped my head gently against the cabinet.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

I only had time to check my hair in the reflection of the microwave before Griffin returned, car keys in hand and sunglasses perched on his head. “Ready to go?” he asked.

“Born ready,” I said, which was a complete lie. I was never ready for anything involving potential social interaction, especially not with the object of my accidental obsession, but here we were.

We crunched across the gravel driveway to his rental, a black SUV with a luxury logo and enough space for a basketball team.

I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in.

He started the car, and the interior filled with the scent of leather and cedar and something that was unmistakably his cologne.

I fidgeted with the vent controls, setting the temperature to somewhere between “arctic” and “comfortable.”

The drive into town took about twenty minutes, the first few spent in silence. I kept waiting for Griffin to say something, but he seemed content to focus on the winding road and the view. Eventually, he turned to me with a faint smile. “So, did Dalton warn you about the bears?”

I laughed, the tension in my chest loosening a little. “He did, actually. He sent me a whole list of warnings including ‘don’t get eaten’ and ‘if you find any leftover moonshine, don’t touch it.’ ”

“That’s good advice.” He grinned and I bit my lip. I liked the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled or laughed. It was a good look on him. “Especially the moonshine part. Last time I drank some, I couldn’t feel my face for an hour.”