Page 108 of Until August

The plan was that he’d pick me up at noon. It was only ten thirty, and he wasn’t expecting me, but his truck was in the parking lot. I knew he was home unless he was out running, so I knocked again.

The door opened, but only halfway. Just enough to see him. He was wearing black athletic shorts and a sheen of sweat. I wanted to lick his bare abs. Glide my tongue over the dips and ridges of his six-pack. Who was I kidding? That was an eight-pack.

I’d had sex with him twice, but I was bent over my desk the first time, and we were both still dressed. The second time in the dining room, I was nearly naked while he’d been fully dressed.

I stood before him, my mouth gaping as my eyes roamed over him like I’d never seen a male body before.

It was a work of art, from the tattoos covering his arms and torso to the broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist. You could bounce a quarter off his abs.

My gaze lowered to the light dusting of hair that dipped below his waistband, and I was practically salivating.

“Eyes are up here, Honey Bun.” My gaze snapped to his face, and I saw the amusement in his green eyes. But he still hadn’t opened the door fully. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had a girl inside. His gaze lowered to the box clutched in my hands. “Why are you at my door with a box of salt?”

“Why are you half-naked and covered in sweat?” I countered.

God, I sounded like a jealous lover. As if I had a right to know what he did every minute of the day.

He licked his lips, and my eyes followed the movement. “You caught me in the middle of my jailhouse workout.”

A laugh burst out of me. “Your what?”

“It was my daily routine for five years.” He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed by the admission. “Saves me from having to get a gym membership.”

A reminder that money was tight, and he probably couldn’t afford a gym membership. It was probably why he hadn’t invited me inside.

The night he was drunk, he’d facetiously called his apartment Shangri-La and compared it to my house. Maybe he thought I was used to something nicer. “Can I watch?”

He pushed his hand through his hair with a pained expression like this was the last thing he wanted.

At work, we were on an even playing field. You could argue that I was his boss because I owned the place. But August’s confidence in the kitchen rivaled mine, so it felt more like we were partners than boss and employee.

“You want to watch me work out?”

If we were hooking up, he'd have to learn to accept that I didn’t care how much money he had or what his apartment looked like. “As soon as I bestow luck and good fortune on your new place, yes. I want to watch you work out.”

I reached into the box of salt and came out with a handful that I sprinkled on the threshold before I all but forced my way inside.

“What the hell are you doing, woman?”

“It’s good luck. It’s a Benedetti thing.” As if that explained everything. I christened all his thresholds with a sprinkle of salt, including the door that opened onto the balcony. You could never be too safe.

His apartment was just as sparsely furnished as my first time here. I was itching to buy him some plants. A TV. A couple chairs. A rug. Some art for the walls.

But I knew it would injure his pride, so I acted like it was no big deal that he was using a liquor store box for a bedside table.

I knew what I paid him, which would have been enough to have a few nice things. But he’d bought Sage a much better phone than the one he used, and I suspected most of his money went to his son.

He sure wasn’t spending anything on himself.

A quick scan of his closet revealed two hoodies, shorts, jeans, a flannel, and a few t-shirts. Four pairs of shoes lined the floor. The Vans were so faded it was hard to tell they’d once been maroon. The biker boots looked like the same ones he had at eighteen, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if they were.

When I turned from the closet, he was leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, watching me. “Have you inspected everything thoroughly enough?”

The sharp edge to his tone put me on the defensive. “I wasn’t inspecting anything. I was just….”

“Sprinkling salt for good luck.”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I scanned his bedroom. Everything was neat and tidy, but that was because he didn’t have anything.