“I...uh.” Dylan looked away, a dusky flush creeping up his neck. “You didn’t seem to like me shirtless earlier. Thought I’d cover up until I had a chance to manscape a bit.”
“I didn’t like it?” Apollo blinked. That wasn’t how he remembered it—only that he hadn’t been able to stop staring at Dylan’s sculpted body. Dylan didn’t have a twink’s body like the smooth young things Ben kept bringing around. His was a man’s body, with a surprisingly furry chest and chiseled muscles. And Apollo had been powerless to do anything other than stare, unwelcome heat traveling to some very underused locales in his body.
“Oh.” Dylan gave him another knowing grin and shucked the shirt. “In that case... I hate wearing shirts in the water.”
“Suit yourself.” Apollo tried to sound indifferent.
“You trim though.” Dylan was just not letting this subject drop, damn him.
“Habit.” Apollo shrugged. He just did head, chest, pubes all on the same setting on the trimmer, beard too when he wasn’t on duty and required to be clean shaven. “And I’m kind of a gorilla without it. But you...you’re fine.”
“Just for the record, I don’t mind a little...monkey action.” Dylan gave a sassy smile and swam away to the far end before Apollo could do the only sensible thing and dunk his insolent ass. The air was mild, but Apollo wasn’t deceived—it was going to be a long, hot summer.
Chapter Five
“So do you have a girlfriend?” Allie asked as she and Dylan sorted kid artwork into alphabetical order, ready for pickup.
The kids were all with the high school and college aged counselors having their afternoon snack and story. The day camp had taken over a small community center near the park, and Dylan and Allie were at the front of the multipurpose room, working at the welcome tables set up to check campers in and out each day. They were coming up on the end of the first week of day camp, which meant he’d been living with Apollo a week now. And he really shouldn’t be thinking about Apollo in response to Allie’s question—the guy appeared impervious to Dylan’s teasing and flirting, and it didn’t matter how many of his fantasies Apollo starred in, nothing was ever happening there.
“Nope. No boyfriend.” Dylan smiled as he gently corrected her. Allie was around his age with long dark braids and a ready smile. The kids adored her.
“Darn it. Why are the cute ones always gay?” She mock pouted. She didn’t seem particularly surprised either, confirming Dylan’s suspicion that this was a fishing expedition. “I’ve got this friend I was dying to set you up with. You want to come out with us tomorrow night anyway? Just for fun.”
“Maybe,” Dylan hedged. What was wrong with him? Ordinarily, he’d love the chance to go out. “I have to see if I’m needed with the girls.”
“Oh that’s right. How’s that working out? The dad is hot.” Allie fanned herself.
“Yeah, he is.” Dylan couldn’t help agreeing. And indeed, Apollo in his uniform when he’d picked up the girls yesterday had been a sight to behold. Every now and then, Dylan would catch Apollo looking at him with clear appreciation, but those moments always evaporated as soon as Dylan returned Apollo’s gaze. “And the girls are great. It’s no hassle helping out.”
He wasn’t lying—the girls were fun, even if their dad seemed bound and determined to act like Dylan was still fifteen.
Buzz. Dylan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Since they weren’t with the campers, Dylan pulled it out. The message was from Apollo, who as usual skipped any sort of greeting.
Work emergency. Going to need to stay late. Can you take point with dinner and bedtime for the girls? Lasagna in the fridge for you to reheat. I’ll update with an ETA when I can.
Dylan smiled to himself. Take point. He liked the SEAL lingo that Apollo could casually toss out.
I’m on it, he replied. No worries. Good luck. He tried to ignore the floppy sensation in his stomach. Dustin was still overseas, and even the sound of emergency had Dylan’s pulse racing, even though he knew Apollo’s job dealt more with training than live mission stuff.
Apollo’s reply was almost immediate. Thanks. And can’t tell you much, but this isn’t to do with Dustin’s team. Wow. The dude was one hell of a mind reader, and why that made Dylan’s face heat, he couldn’t say. Apollo could be as grumpy as the troll in the girls’ favorite book, but then he’d go and be all considerate and Dylan would feel the edges of that old crush, ready to drag him back under Apollo’s spell.
Not gonna happen, he reminded himself as he began the end-of-the-day checkout chaos, handing out the artwork and making sure no backpacks or lunch boxes were left behind.
“Okay,” he said to the girls when it was finally time for them to head to their car. “Here’s the deal. Daddy has to work late—”
“You mean Baba? Daddy’s in heaven,” Sophia corrected him, very matter-of-fact.
“No one has to work in heaven,” Chloe added.
Okay. How was he supposed to respond to this? “Yeah. I meant Baba. He has to work late, so we’re going to have to be extra good—”
“Did you know Daddy?” Chloe asked as Dylan buckled her into her seat.
“No, pumpkin. I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“We have pictures,” Sophia announced. “I can show you. Ya-Ya made us special books.”
And so Dylan ended up with a lap full of girls back at the house, “special books” in tow as they looked at picture after picture of Apollo and Neal with the girls. Neal had been a tall, pale brown-haired man with a slight build and shy smile who looked a bit older than Apollo—not at all what Dylan would have guessed as Apollo’s type, but the adoration between the two was clear.
“You don’t cough.” Chloe studied Dylan carefully. “Baba always coughs when he reads the book.”
Damn. Now Dylan’s throat was painfully tight. Poor Apollo, forced to see reminders of the guy he’d loved just so the girls kept his memory alive. What a sucky position to be in.
“Let’s eat,” he said, blinking hard.
“I want to play dress-up while you cook.” Sophia scampered off in the direction of the dress-up box. The living room had one wall devoted to kid stuff—play kitchen, dollhouse, carefully labeled bins and shelves with other toys, and a fanciful dress-up corner that Dylan bet was the handiwork of Mrs. Floros.
By the time Dylan reheated the lasagna and got a vegetable ready, the girls had completely destroyed the organization in the living room.
“We need to clean up,” Dylan told them after they ate.
“Ya-Ya never makes us clean.” Chloe frowned. “Baba will clean when he comes home.”
“Baba does not need to come home to a mess,” Dylan said. This was the first time he had to get firm with the girls. “Now, can we make a game of it?”