Care to Command

28 Show Me

Chapter 28

***

The meeting with Hershey's went great. They were stoked about the lava cake direction and agreed to move forward. I email Grant to tell him the good news. At this rate, I think I might have the VP position in the bag!

I text Miguel right after and get his social media information. Now I'm on his Instagram picture from six years ago, analyzing every hashtag and caption. Why do guys suck at selfies?

Aside from working at the front desk - which is temporary, because he just moved from Brazil - Miguel is a personal body trainer and a fitness nerd. Meaning, he counts his macros and programs his exercises. He could totally speak spreadsheets to me.

There are tutorial videos of him showing how to do bicep curls or pull-ups or whatever. I've spent most of the car ride marveling at them.

Lucas hasn't said a word. I haven't really looked at him. The silence is intense.

When we park, he gets out and slams the door. Then he heads inside, not even looking back. Well damn, that sort of hurts. But I suppose... he expected me to stick around tonight?

I noticed bottles of wine in the kitchen when making coffee with Fiona, so I head straight there to calm my nerves. I twist the cap of a white wine bottle and pour myself a glass.

By the time I'm halfway done, Lucas storms out of his room - in black swim trunks and a furious face. He slides the glass doors open and heads straight to the beach.

Doesn't even look at me, doesn't say a word. I stare after him, half hurt and half ogling. His tense shoulders subtly sway side to side and his strong calves flex with each step in the sand.

I pour myself another glass without looking away as he dives in the water. Is he trying to swim away? So melodramatic.

The waves aren't even friendly. It's past 5:30 PM and I can hardly see his brown hair from the foams that seem to only get bigger.

Should I go after him? I don't even know how to swim. Fuck. That would be bad. But he's a Marine. He won't drown. Not unintentionally.

I send a quick prayer to God to keep Lucas safe and go to take a shower. Unraveling my own towel from my bag, I wrap it around myself and carry the toiletries to the bathroom. Time for a grooming ritual of exfoliation, shaving, and moisturizing.

I turn the shower on and step in. And instantly scream when the freezing water hits.

"Fuck!" I quickly step out. I fumble with the knobs left and right, but the water temperature doesn't change. How the fuck am I supposed to shave without hot water?!

I wrap the towel again and open the door to try the other bathroom.

"Oh, shit." I gasp when Lucas appears in front of me.

His brown hair is damp on his forehead. Water droplets cling to his golden, sculpted skin. His black swim trunks are low on his narrow hips. And he towers over me with a dark glare.

"Why'd you scream." He grumbles, eyes away from my towel-wrapped state.

"The water's cold." I scowl a little. Here I am, so affected by him, and he's not even fazed.