Stepping back, Terri directed him. When the wind caught the white paint so it sprayed on him, Nate unbuttoned his shirt, removed it and tossed it to the ground.
Smiling at the sight of his beautiful bare upper half, Terri stretched out under the oak tree, head on her arm and ate the rest of the orange slices. She watched Nate struggle with changing the kisses. The paint blew back in his face, then the glue got on him. The top of the L stuck to the bottom, then to his hands. The same things had happened to her the first few times and she got angry at her honorary uncles, Jake and Frank, for laughing at her. But now she had to admit that watching Nate was a bit like seeing a comedy routine.
A blue Fiat full of very pretty young women came by, slowed to a roll, and they began whistling at the shirtless Nate.
“I like kisses better,” one of the blondes shouted out the window.
“I’m in cabin number seventy-one. I’m there alone on Tuesday nights,” a brunette yelled.
“Hey, Terri! Did you import him just for us?”
“I do love a hairy chest. It’s so male!”
Laughing, they sped away.
Nate looked down at Terri on the ground. “That was a friendly group.”
She stood up and dusted herself off. “If those girls got you alone, you wouldn’t live through it.” As he came down the ladder, she squinted up at the board. “That’s the worst job I’ve ever seen. You got paint on the L and you pasted it up crooked. It looks like Lake Kisse, then a slanted hyphen.”
“I was probably sending some subliminal message. I like kisses better.”
She was standing in front of him, her eyes on his bare chest. “You got paint on you.”
“It’ll come off.” He was silently watching her as she raised her hand to his chest. She meant to brush away the paint, but it didn’t come off. It was stuck to his hair and skin.
Nate didn’t move as Terri ran her hand up onto his shoulder. Her hand was so warm, so—
“Hey!” came a male voice. “Terri is mine!”
They had been so absorbed in her touching Nate’s bare skin that they hadn’t heard the Mercedes SUV stop on the road.
As though coming out of a trance, Terri dropped her hand and turned toward the car. Inside were two gorgeous, identical young men with dark hair and eyes, and those cheekbones that clothes designers so loved.
“Terri, my love, couldn’t you wait for me?” the one driving called out.
The other one leaned across. “Are we on for the Widiwick dance? You’ll be my date like last year?”
Terri picked up Nate’s shirt off the ground. “Don’t flatter yourselves. Hayley and that lot just arrived. Go pester them.”
“So who’s the tank?” He was nodding toward Nate. “Can it talk?”
“Talk and break bones,” Nate said in a menacing growl. “Why don’t you two pretty boys find the other girls and go play?”
Terri looked at Nate in surprise. Was his anger for real?
“Looks like we have some competition this year. You’re on, old man.”
Laughing, they drove away.
“Who are they?” Nate asked.
“Turner Twins.” She was staring at him. “You wouldn’t really hurt them, would you?”
Nate laughed. “Maybe a little.” He took his shirt from her. “Do you really date those morons?” He started back to the car.
“No, but I’ve thought about it. And by the way, one is in law school, and the other one is on his way to being a doctor.”
“An ambulance chaser and a quack. Just what the world needs more of.”