Or the toilet.
She dragged herself back to her house and called Pete. She hadn’t exactly been nice to him lately, and she wouldn’t blame him if he ignored her call. She hadn’t tried to be a jerk. She was afraid that if she fell into their normal friendly pattern, her crush would seize her and she’d never get over him. She’d spend every summer in the future longing to rip his clothes off and acting like she didn’t know how. She knew how. Oh, did she know how! She was no stranger to being the aggressor in a relationship, but with Pete, her stomach got all fluttery, and she spent more time staring at him than anything else. It was ridiculous, really, and it kind of pissed her off. She was a grown woman, not a teenager. She should be able to walk right up to him and say, Pete, let’s go out for a drink. Then make a move during the evening. But they were friends, and they’d gone for drinks plenty of times with the rest of their friends, and she’d never once made that move. Neither had he. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same.
Her call went to voicemail. She tapped her foot as she waited for the beep. “Pete, this is Jenna, over at Seaside.” Duh. Like he doesn’t know that? Even on the phone she was a nimrod around him. “My hot water isn’t working. Would you mind coming over to fix it? I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but Bella said the toilet could go next, and—” The voicemail recording cut her off. She stared at the phone. Stupid phone. Stupid shower. Stupid Peter Lacroux.
This summer was supposed to be about Jenna finally taking charge of her life and finding her own happily ever after—with someone other than Pete. She’d found a really great guy. A really hot one, too, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it was Pete that was messing with her ability to detect zings in their kisses. She’d spent too many years ogling him, hoping and praying to make something happen, and all the while, turning into a shrinking violet around the one man who did more than make her body zing.
She hurried back over to Bella’s house and showered, only realizing after she stepped from the shower that she’d forgotten to grab her clothes to change into. This was totally not her night. Wrapped in her towel, she hurried back outside and across the quad to her house, stopping cold at the sight of Pete’s truck in her driveway.
Oh no.
She’d had so many fantasies about Pete in her house when she was naked, but absolutely zero of them had anything to do with him repairing anything. Maybe breaking a bedspring or two, or crashing into a wall with her in his arms—Oh my. She needed another shower. A cold one.
Jenna fanned her face as she took one hesitant step after another across the deck to her screened door, where she peered inside. Pete was nowhere in sight. Thank goodness. He must have run down to the pool or over to Theresa’s. She could run in and dress quickly. She pulled open the door and ran through the living room, looking over her shoulder in case he showed up—and she slammed into a wall.
“Ack!” Jenna screeched. Her hands flew up to push her cheek from the wall—a wall with legs. Shoot. Double shoot—as her towel fell to the ground. She clenched her eyes shut and ran her hands over the wall of muscles she’d smacked into, then fisted her hands in the soft cotton shirt that covered them.
Nonononono.
Please be a stranger.
Please, please, be a stranger.
“Hi, Jenna.”
Zing! Pow! Bam! Pete’s deep, sexy voice slid through her ears straight to her toes, leaving a trail of fire on everything in between. She clenched her eyes shut tighter. “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me. Right? Please lie to me.” His chest felt amazing. Spectacular. Lickable.
She felt him lean forward a little, as if he were looking over her shoulder at her bare butt. He laughed, a low, sexy, zing-inspiring laugh that shot right to her naughty parts. Jenna heard a whimper slip through her lips.
“You’re sadly mistaken, Jenna. I can see a whole heck of a lot of you right now.” He whistled. It was the type of whistle construction workers sounded off as women walked by.
Jerk.
Sexy jerk.
Sexy jerk who smells like heaven wrapped in a soft cotton T-shirt.
“I guess you want your towel?”
She thudded her fist against his chest, unable to force another word from her throat. He’d seen her big butt. Her big white butt. She should have put on tanning lotion and…Oh my gosh! What am I thinking? I’m buck naked in Pete’s arms!
“Don’t freak out or anything when I bend down to get this towel.” His voice was calm, like he was in total control, which was totally unfair.
“Mm-hm,” she managed.
His big, strong hand slid down her side and stopped at her waist. How had she missed his hand gripping her arm in the first place? She felt her body begin to tremble, and she knew he could feel it, too. It was as obvious as a beach umbrella struggling to remain erect during a typhoon. She clenched her fists tighter in his shirt.
His grip tightened on her hip, and holy mother of grace did it feel good.
“If you keep hold of me like that, I’ll never be able to pick up your towel.”
Jenna’s fingers flew open.
He laughed again and—thankfully—bent a little, as if he were going to retrieve her towel. His other hand, still holding her waist, slid seductively lower. He made a sound in his throat. Something between a grunt and an appreciative Hm! Then he crouched down a little lower, his cheek grazing her chest, sending sizzling pinpricks through her entire body. She couldn’t help it. She gripped his shirt again. She needed support before she fell right over. She’d never stood buck naked before a man who was fully dressed before. Beneath a man in the bedroom, sure. Above a man in the bedroom? Sure, sometimes, though not as often. But full frontal nude in front of Pete Lacroux?
Shoot me now. Please, please, let me drop dead.
She felt him rise to his full height again, his hand slid back up to her waist, where it felt like it had settled in for the night. His thumb pressed just below her ribs, his fingers gripped her back possessively, and when she remembered to breathe again, she inhaled lungs full of Pete. Masculine. Sinfully sexy. Earthy.
She couldn’t believe what she did next. She gripped his shirt tighter and inhaled again, hoping that smell would permeate her skin, her hair, her eyelids, for goodness sake. She must have died and gone to heaven in the three minutes that this episode took place. That was the only explanation that made any sense, because suddenly she could breathe, she could hear noises from the cars on the main road, and holy smokes, she could feel a breeze coming in from the front door, which was wide open. Holy moly. Her door was wide open. Anyone could see her big white butt. She had it all wrong.
This wasn’t heaven. This was hell.
She felt the towel wrap around her from behind.
“Better?” Pete took a step back, her claws still attached to his shirt as he handed her the ends of the towel.
She nodded, eyes still closed.