The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

Mission fucking accomplished.

FOUR

Erika

Troy Osbourne came once a week to service both my pool and the freestanding spa. I’d hired him last year to handle closing and covering the pool for the winter, then reopening it for me last month, and his weekly visits that followed had kept the water crystal clear and the pH perfectly balanced.

My pool had never looked so good.

But Troy always came when I was at work and let himself in through the gate at the side of my fence, so I had completely forgotten his schedule. He must have gone behind the pool house and inside to fetch his supplies, and when he’d rounded the corner and discovered me topless, he’d dropped everything in his arms.

Including the long pole with the net on the end.

It was as if someone had put their foot down on the sustain pedal of a piano, only this piano played the music of time, and the moment suspended with my long, drawn out gasp.

I was topless, and he was frozen, and holy shit, he was my best friend’s twenty-four-year-old son.

It burst from my lips in horror. “Oh, fuck!”

In my panic, I grasped at my towel to cover myself, only to struggle hopelessly since it was pinned beneath my body. I leapt to my feet and yanked the terrycloth up, pressing it over my naked chest.

Troy still hadn’t moved. His lips were open, as if he’d planned to say something, but now he was frozen and unable to do anything. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his mirrored Aviator sunglasses, but he didn’t seem to be breathing.

So, I did what any reasonable woman would when a gorgeous, almost-stranger caught her naked.

I ran.

I abandoned my phone and my top and fled as fast as possible toward the main house, crushing the towel over my boobs. There was no thought in my mind, only the basic need to seek shelter. My face burned a million times hotter than the concrete on the soles of my bare feet, and it wasn’t until I was in the house that I could catch my breath.

“Oh my God,” I whispered in the darkness of my kitchen, only to realize it was because I was still wearing my sunglasses. I shoved them back on my head.

Nervous energy coursed through my body and propelled me through the living room and into the master suite. I dropped the towel as I sprinted into my closet and grabbed the first thing that made sense. The sun dress was a deep indigo, and I pulled it on, not bothering with a bra.

Having the dress on made me feel marginally better, and a voice inside my head patronizingly reminded me of my desire to one day visit a nude beach. Troy had gotten an eyeful, but only above the waist, and now I was hiding in my closet like a scared little girl. My confidence still had a long, long way to go.

Finally decent, I sucked in a breath and willed my heartrate to slow down.

It wasn’t like this was the first time Troy had ever seen a topless woman before. He was young and attractive and had plenty of girlfriends while he’d been in college. I knew because Jenna had whined about all of the ones he’d brought home. None of ‘those girls’ were good enough for her son, she’d said.

I didn’t envy whomever he eventually got serious with. I loved my friend dearly, but she was difficult to please, and in my opinion, had always been a little too strict when it came to Troy. I tried not to judge. I didn’t have children, so what the hell did I know?

Like a spy, I tiptoed cautiously back into the living room and inched up to the window, scanning the backyard for him. I was curious. What did he think about seeing me?

He stood at the edge of the pool and was currently gliding the net through the water, skimming out leaves and flower petals that the magnolia tree nearby had shed. His gaze was tipped down, watching the surface of the water, and that, plus his sunglasses, made it difficult to read his expression.

Difficult, but not impossible. He looked deep in thought and also—

Hot.

I frowned at myself. Sure, he looked good, wearing faded red shorts and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The toned muscles in his bare arms flexed as he grasped the pole and swished the net through the water. If I were twenty years younger, I might have lost my mind looking at him. But lusting after Troy was way, way inappropriate.

It didn’t stop me, though.

Fuck, he was cute. His light brown hair was short on the sides and messy on top, and his strong jawline was shadowed with a few days’ worth of stubble. Not enough to call it an actual beard. More like he couldn’t be bothered to shave, and that, paired with his dark tan, made him look like he was two months into a lazy summer and not two weeks.