“What?” Gabe grimaces without looking away from the screen.
Bad? No. I don’t feel bad. Embarrassed? Definitely. It’s pretty embarrassing. I always glance around before doing it. And I do it as quickly as possible. The side of the house isn’t visible to that many people—except for Morgan and Nate with the two windows facing my balcony. I always check to make sure they’re not looking out the window.
“I saw you first, and I told my dad. He covered my eyes, but I said, ‘Dad! I’m a girl too!’” She rolls her eyes.
Rubbing my lips together, I nod slowly. “Did he cover his eyes?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll tell him to close his eyes if it happens again.”
Gabe tosses the game controller onto Morgan’s lap and stands. “I’m going to get breakfast.”
As I follow him down the stairs, he glances back at me. “Why don’t you shut the blinds? My mom forgot to shut the blinds once to their bathroom, and my dad saw her undressing to get in the shower as he pulled into the driveway. He was not happy.”
I can see that. Kyle was a little possessive of Emily. The good news for me at the moment—if there can be any good news after Morgan’s confession—is that Gabe thinks I undress in my bedroom with the blinds open, not outside under the balcony.
“Morning. Morgan wake you two up?” Mr. Hans asks. “Woke me up.” He pours a cup of coffee.
I grin. “This generation doesn’t sleep in.”
“This works.” Gabe grabs a bag of chips from the counter and heads back toward the stairs.
“No way, buster. You’re not having chips for breakfast.”
I snatch the bag from his hand when he sulks back into the kitchen.
“Fine. Eggs with cheese.”
“We’re out of eggs.” I have to disappoint him again.
“Fine. Then I’ll eat the chips.”
I shove the bag behind me when he goes to reach for it again.
“I’ve got some cooked eggs in the fridge. Boiled and pickled. Help yourself.”
“Um … no thanks.” Gabe’s face scrunches into disgust.
“Go ask my dad for eggs! We got some last night!” Morgan hears everyone and everything. It’s a little creepy.
I nod toward the door. “Go ask nicely to borrow two eggs and tell him I’ll replace them this afternoon.”
“Can you do it, please? If I don’t get back upstairs, she’s going to mess something up on my game because she has no clue what she’s doing.”
“I heard that!” Morgan calls.
I return the exasperated expression he usually gives me. It does nothing. Gabe turns and runs back up the stairs.
“Ask him if he’s done with my stud finder,” Mr. Hans adds.
“Fine. I’ll go comb my hair and brush my teeth.”
He chuckles. “Why? Are you going to kiss him?”
“What?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Your hair is fine. And unless you get in his face, he won’t smell your breath.”
“I’m not kissing him.”
In real life.
I can’t control what happens in my sleep. It’s possible Nate has a Scottish accent in my dreams.
“My shoes are upstairs. I have to go up there anyway.”
“Sure.” He grins before sipping his coffee.
“I told you, I’m not interested in any man.”
“Sure thing, Elvis.”
I give up on the fight and quickly brush my teeth, wash my face, pull my hair back into a small ponytail, roll on deodorant, lotion my legs, and change my shirt to something less wrinkled.
It’s not like I changed into sexy lingerie. Besides … he’s already seen that.
Instead of confronting snoopy Mr. Hans again, I exit through my bedroom and down the stairs he built for me. I knock on the frame to Nate’s screen deck door.
“Come in!” he calls.
The door squeaks when I open it. After I slip off my canvas shoes, I tiptoe my bare feet toward the kitchen, at least I think that’s where Nate’s voice just came from.
“Good—whoa!” I jerk my head back.
Nate gives me a strained smile as he finishes pull-ups on a bar secured in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.
Shirtless.
Sweaty.
Tan.
Low riding shorts.
Muscles for days.
And … dreadfully short hair.
“Your hair,” I whisper.
He finishes five more pull-ups and drops to the floor. Wiping his face with a white towel, he chuckles. “Hank said the ponytail suggestion would make me look like an actor on some Scottish time-travel series. He assured me I wouldn’t want that in spite of women going crazy over him. So the only alternative was to take it really short in the back and on the sides.” He ruffles the top of his hair which is a little bit longer, but not much. “He left me a little wave on the top.”
“Jamie?”
Nate flings the towel over his shoulder. “What?”
“He implied you’d look like Jamie from Outlander?”
He lifts his shoulders slowly. “Um, maybe. I don’t watch the show, and he didn’t remember the name of it.”
“What’s wrong with Jamie?” I cross my arms over my chest.