“Me, too.”
We share a smile, and then he heads to leave.
I almost hate to see him go. Being around him is starting to get so comfortable.
“Foster,” I call out as he opens the door. He pauses, glancing back at me with his brows knit. “Thanks for sleeping with me again.” As soon as the words leave my lips, I blush while Foster grins. “I mean, thanks for … You know what? Never mind.”
Chuckling, he walks back toward me and sweeps a strand of my hair out of my eyes. “Thanks for sleeping with me, too.” He winks then leaves the room, laughing under his breath.
Sighing at my spazzy-ness, I close the door then grab a pair of jeans and a black top with boots to match. Then I head out of my room and into the bathroom to take a shower. Once I’m dressed and my hair is done, I wander downstairs to make my own breakfast, something I’ve been promising myself I’m going to start doing. But, as with every day this week, when I enter the room, Charlotte has already made breakfast.
Easton and Foster are already there too, which is a bit odd. Usually, they take longer than me to get ready.
Foster hands me a plate stacked with French toast as I walk in. “Breakfast is on the go today.” He grabs his bag from off the counter and slings the handle onto his shoulder. His hair is a bit damp, and he’s rocking dark jeans and a black T-shirt. “We have to be at the school a little early because Easton has practice.”
I glance at Easton, who’s stuffing his mouth with French toast. “Practice for what?” I ask him curiously.
“Cheerleading.” He grins, looking pretty pleased with himself. “I look amazing in a skirt.”
I restrain a smile, putting on my best dead serious expression. “I can actually see that.”
His brow meticulously elevates. “You think I seem like the cheerleading type and that I’d look good in a skirt?”
“Yeah, you seem really peppy, and I bet you’re legs look super cute in those uniforms.” I grin when he gives me a disgusted look.
“I’m going to pay you back for that one,” he warns with a smirk as he hitches his bag over his shoulder. “For the record, though, my practice is for the water team.”
“Is that like a fancy word for swimming?” I ask, quickly dumping more syrup onto my French toast.
“Nope. It’s water shape-shifting.” When my eyes grow huge, a pleased grin etches across Easton’s face as he steps toward me. “You should come watch me. I’m really good at it. Plus, you’ll get to see me shirtless, so that’s a bonus.”
More than curious to see what water shape-shifting looks like, I nod. “Okay, I will. It actually sounds really fun.”
His eyes dance with amusement. “Me being shirtless?”
“Nah, that part I’m not looking forward to at all,” I give a shudder.
“I know you’re full of shit. I can tell you think I’m sexy.” Grinning, he stuffs a piece of French toast into his mouth. The entire damn thing. Then he wipes off his hands and deliberately reaches for the hem of his shirt. “I can take it off for you right now. You don’t have to wait.”
For a flickering, very stupid, instant, my lips stay zipped. But as he starts to lift up his shirt, I pull my head out of my ass and my lips part with a snarky remark. But Foster interrupts me.
“We should get going or you’re going to be late,” he tells Easton, then lines his palm to the small of my back and urges me toward the doorway.
“Yes, Mom.” Easton strolls toward the doorway, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, lightning eyes, you’ll still get to see me shirtless sometime.”
“No thanks,” I say. “I don’t want to risk my retinas getting burned from seeing, what I’m betting is a very pasty, hairy, skinny chest.
“Ha! My chest is far fr
om pasty, hairy, or skinny.” Right before he exits the room, he spins around and lifts up the hem of his shirt, flashing me.
Good lord, he’s not lying. His chest and abs are lean and toned and tan and hairless and… Is that a tattoo?
“See sexy.” He drags his hand across his chest and abs and I hurriedly look away.
“No, it’s not—”
He walks out before I can finish, looking pretty damn cocky.