HAD realized that spilling her energy drink would make Luke take off his shirt, she would have done it on purpose. Pecs and abs like his belonged in a calendar. And unlike the shaved versions featured in muscle-building magazines, Luke had manly chest hair that highlighted his flat nipples and traced a path to the metal edge of his belt buckle.
But he’d caught her looking. He hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, she’d spotted a flicker of amusement in his eyes, which were, thank you, God, velvet brown.
“I’ll go rinse this out.”
“Good idea.” Now, there was an idiotic response. Rinsing out his shirt wasn’t merely a good idea. It was the whole idea, the reason they’d walked to the stream in the first place.
She watched him kneel on the embankment and dunk his shirt in the water. The stream wasn’t large, no more than fifteen feet across at its widest point, but it ran deep enough in spots for fish to thrive, which was why the eagles were nesting here.
But she wasn’t thinking about eagles now. Instead she gazed at the broad, muscled back of Luke Griffin and wondered what it would be like to feel those muscles move under her palms. Having such thoughts about a virtual stranger wasn’t like her.
Except he didn’t feel like a stranger. He’d come out here because of an interest in the eagles and curiosity about the woman studying them. Instead of being turned off by her rumpled appearance, he seemed to prefer it. That made him the sort of man she’d like to get to know.
At first he’d been understandably upset about getting doused with the energy drink, but apparently he was a good-natured sort of guy who rolled with the punches. Anyone would think he’d had to wash out his clothes in a stream numerous times from the efficiency with which he swirled the shirt in the water and wrung it out.
Then he set it on a nearby rock. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a blue bandanna and plunged it into the water before rubbing his face, chest and shoulders with it.
Naomi felt like a voyeur standing there while he washed up. She could offer to help, but she wasn’t sure that was appropriate, either. What could she do, wash his back?
At last he stood, his dripping shirt in one hand and his soaked bandanna in the other. “I’m considering whether I should put my hat in the water or not.”
“I can’t advise you.” Wow, he was beautiful. She had a tough time remembering her name while he faced her, his chest glistening with droplets of water. Evaluating the best procedure for cleaning his hat was beyond her mental capabilities at the moment.
“I’m doing it. It can’t get any worse.” He walked toward her with the shirt and the bandanna. “Maybe you could find a tree branch for these.”
“Sure.” She took them, although she wondered what his plan might be. Hanging something to dry implied sticking around awhile. Was that what he had in mind?
Maybe he only wanted his shirt to get dry enough that it wouldn’t feel clammy when he put it on, but that would take more than ten minutes. Fine with her. She wouldn’t mind spending more time with this sexy cowboy. She found a fairly level branch for both the shirt and the bandanna. As a veteran camper, she was used to such maneuvers.
As she finished hanging up his stuff, he came back holding his saturated hat. “At least it won’t attract flies on the way home.” He looked around, found a convenient twig sticking out of a tree trunk and hung his hat on it. “I need the bandanna back. One more chore.” Grabbing it, he returned to the stream and soaked the bandanna.
Naomi wasn’t sure what his goal was until he walked over to his horse and started wiping its neck. Apparently the energy drink had anointed the brown-and-white paint, too. She gave Luke points for wanting to get the stuff off to keep the animal from being pestered by flies, as well.
His considerate gesture also provided her with quite a show. She wondered if he had any idea how his muscles rippled in the dappled sunlight while he worked on that horse. If she could have taken a video, it would be an instant hit on YouTube—gorgeous guy demonstrates his love of animals. What could be sweeter?
Finally he rinsed out the bandanna again and returned it to the branch where his shirt hung. “I think that takes care of the worst of it.”
“You’re causing me to rethink my consumption of energy drinks. I never dreamed one little bottle could create such a disaster.”
He smiled at her. “Ah, it wasn’t so bad. The cold water feels good.”
“I know it does. That stream was a lifesaver this week when the temperatures kicked up.”
“I’ll bet. Now that you mention it, you look a little flushed. You can use my bandanna if you—” He paused and chuckled. “Never mind. You probably don’t want to rinse your face with the bandanna I just used on my horse.”
“I wouldn’t care about that. But don’t worry about me. I’m used to being hot.”
His sudden laughter made the brown-and-white paint lift his head and stare at them. “I’m not touching that line.”
“Oh, dear God.” She felt a new blush coming on. “I didn’t mean it like that.” But he’d taken it like that. To her surprise, this beautiful shirtless cowboy was flirting with her. What a rush.
“Now you really look as if you could use a splash of cold water.”
“It’s my blond coloring. I blush at the drop of a hat.” Or the drop of a shirt.
“It looks good on you.” He gazed at her with warmth in his brown eyes.
She felt that warmth in every cell of her body, causing her to think of truly crazy things, like what it would be like to kiss him. She’d actually moved a step closer when the piercing cry of an eagle grabbed her attention.
Breaking eye contact, she looked up through the trees and saw the female sail overhead, a fish in her talons.
“Wow.” Luke stared after the departing eagle. “He’s huge.”
“She.”
He glanced at Naomi. “She? You mean her mate is even bigger than that?”
“No, her mate is smaller. Female eagles are bigger than the males.” After a week of observation, Naomi could distinguish the female’s eight-foot wingspan from that of her smaller mate.
“Well, blow me down with a feather. I didn’t know that.”
“Many people don’t. They think any male creature is automatically bigger than the female, but that’s not universally true.”
He grinned at her. “You said that with a certain amount of relish.”
“Maybe.” She returned his smile. “It’s fun to smash stereotypes. By the way, did you happen to notice what kind of fish she had?”
“Looked like a trout to me.”
“I thought so, too. I have to go back up and document the feeding time and the type of food on my computer. As I said, you’re welcome to come up and check out the nest.”
“I’d love to.”
