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Four
Summer
“Honey! We’re home!”The front door slams and Shaw calls from the living room. Moments later, he walks into the kitchen just as I’m putting the chopped tomatoes into the salad that I prepared for dinner. He comes to my side, kisses the top of my head and peers into the salad bowl.
“What do we have here? Rabbit food, eh?” He says turning and walking over to the fridge.
He bends to get something out of the bottom drawer, and I can’t help my eyes to follow the movement of his khaki pants tightening around his ass. His thick thighs stretch the fabric and I can see the indentation of his boxer briefs. He stands up and when he turns around, he catches me staring at him.
“What? Do I have something on my shirt?” He looks down and tries to figure out what I’m looking at, only I’m not staring at just one thing. I’m cataloging him, I’ve obviously checked out his butt and now I’m looking at the fabric stretching on his biceps.
I have never intentionally checked out Shaw’s body before and come to think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him shirtless.
His loose-fitting work shirts never allow much to the imagination. Which now has me curious. His clothes lead one to believe that he’s got a few extra pounds, maybe something that would resemble a dad bod, but then again, maybe he’s hiding something spectacular under his clothing.
“Yo! Summer? You okay?” Shaw waves his hand in front of me, causing me to blink and snap out of my not so innocent thoughts of my best friend.
“Sorry, what?” My eyes focus and I turn to him with a smile.
“You’re cooking dinner?” He asks, nodding to the bowl in front of me.
“Shoot, yes. I thought that since you’re being cool with me staying here, that I would cook dinner. I have lamb in the slow-cooker and some pasta that Mason will eat for a side with the salad. If that’s okay?”
“Sum, you know I’m shit at cooking. I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me at any time,” he smiles.
“Oh really?” I quirk an eyebrow, my mind going directly into the gutter.
I shake my head.
What has gotten into me?
“As long as it’s not Brussel sprouts, how long until dinner is ready?”
“About twenty minutes,” I say, looking at the clock above the stove.
“Perfect, I’ll be right back.” He says, turning on his heel. Before he leaves the kitchen entirely, he turns around. “I’m a dick, how are you doing?” He asks.
That’s a loaded question. I’m thinking dirty thoughts about my best friend, as I’m cooking him and his son dinner.
“I’m doing fine, thanks.” I reply.
He taps his knuckles on the wall, smiles and then mouths that he’ll be right back.
Moments after Shaw is gone, Mason enters the kitchen.
“It smells yummy,” he says, coming to my side.
I ruffle his hair as I normally do and smile down at him.
“Dinner is almost ready; do you need to go wash your hands?” I ask him.
“I don’t know how.” Mason says.
“Oh please, I’m not new here. Go wash your hands, buster,” I say to him.
“Danger.”
“Danger? What happened now?” Shaw asks walking back into the room, wearing a tight-fitting t-shirt that hugs his chest and thins out down his abdomen. He’s wearing blue sweat shorts and I do what I can to tear my eyes away from him and not try to stare at him. I’ve seen Shaw casual plenty of times over the years, but suddenly my thoughts are running rampant and I’m thinking about him without clothes and feeling my heart beating faster as he nears.
