"This isn't Chicago. It's a safe town and nobody even comes out this way."
He holds my shoulders, his eyes fixed on mine. "You always lock your doors. Even during the day. Got it?"
I nod. "Yeah."
I just met this guy and he's already looking out for me, caring about me, worrying about me. I wonder if he's like that with everyone. He seems like he would be.
"Did you just wake up?" Nash removes his hands from my shoulders and stands up straight. Man, he's tall. I have to tilt my head back just to look at his face. Otherwise, I'm staring at his chest, which isn't a bad view.
"I woke up when I heard your brothers. What are they doing out there?" I cross my arms over my chest when I notice Nash's eyes going to my breasts. He's already seen them so I don't know why I care, but I still feel the need to cover them.
"They're chipping away the loose concrete," he says. "You'll be hearing that sound for a few hours, then after lunch we'll start sanding down the rough edges. That's even louder so you might want to go somewhere if you don't want to hear it."
"That's okay. I don't mind. Besides, I have to mow the grass today so I won't hear anything over the lawn mower."
"Why don't you wait until Monday and I'll do it for you?"
"Do what?"
"Mow the lawn. You shouldn't be doing that when your knee's still not a hundred percent."
"My knee is fine. You need to get outside. I don't want your brothers thinking we're doing something in here."
"And what exactly would we be doing?" He leans against the door frame, smiling.
"Things we shouldn't be doing." I put my hand on his chest and try to push him out of the way but he doesn't move. He's a solid mass of muscle that I couldn't move even if I put all my weight into it.
"They could just think we're in here talking, which is what we're doing."
"I'm sure you told them about us, which means they'll think we're doing more than talking."
"I didn't tell them anything. I don't tell them that kind of stuff. It's private."
"You told them to stay away from me."
"Yeah? So?"
"That tells them there's something going on between us."
"Would you stop worrying about this and get dressed? I got breakfast and we're all waiting to eat."
"You don't have to wait for me. Just go ahead and eat."
He pushes off the door frame and stands up straight again. "Get dressed. And hurry up. You got three hungry guys out there and another one right here." He walks off. "By the way, I like the pajamas."
I look down and see that I'm wearing my monkey pajamas; bright yellow shorts and a white tank top with monkeys and bananas printed all over it. I wear this every Friday night because it reminds me of Saturday morning cartoons, which I used to love when I was a kid. I'd look forward to it all week, and on Friday nights, I'd always wear pajamas with cartoon characters on them, getting ready for my Saturday cartoon marathon. It became a tradition, and although I no longer watch cartoons, I still wear goofy pajamas on Friday nights.
How embarrassing. Nash saw me in pajamas that look like something a kid would wear. They're not the least bit sexy. That should kill any prospect of us having a physical relationship.
I throw on a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a fitted white t-shirt. There's no time to mess with my hair so I pull it up into a ponytail and put on a red baseball cap. It's not my best look but I'm not trying to impress anyone with my appearance. I'm sure Nash's brothers won't even notice me. Guys that good looking are probably used to hanging around girls that look like models.
When I go outside, Nash says, "Callie, over here."
His brothers, who are all sitting on overturned milk crates while they chip away at the concrete, look over at me as I walk up to Nash.
He leans down to my ear. "Do you have to look so damn hot? My brothers are practically drooling."
"Yeah, right," I say, assuming he's kidding.
"Hi, I'm Jake," one of the guys says as he approaches me. His hair is dark, like Nash's, but it's cut shorter on the sides, longer on top, pushed forward and then spiked up when it reaches his forehead. It looks like he spends a lot of time on his hair. He has light blue eyes and a wide smile with perfect teeth, just like Nash's. I wonder if that's genetic or if they just went to a really good dentist growing up.
"I'm Callie," I say, shaking his hand.
The two other brothers appear behind him. All the guys are shirtless and wearing cargo shorts with tool belts around their waists. It's like an ad for a sexy handyman service.
"That's Bryce and that's Austin," Nash says, pointing to them. "Austin's got strep throat so don't touch him."
"I'm not sick," he insists. "I'm on the last day of medicine. I'm cured. I feel fine."
"Guess all that health food isn't good for you after all," Nash says. "The rest of us never get sick."
"That's not why I got sick," Austin says.
Bryce elbows him. "I told you to be more selective in which groupie you let stick her tongue down your throat."
"Shut-up." Austin elbows him back. "It wasn't her."