The One That Got Away
“Trace had dashed through the door minutes ago, just barely ahead of the other guys. He was in the bedroom changing now. Keeping busy to resist the urge to join him and catch a glimpse of the body that had been on his mind all day, David opened a bag of nuts, grateful that Trace seemed to have picked things in packages he could open.
Trace’s voice came from the back of the house. “David? Have you seen my red shirt? It’s not in the closet, and I’m sure I left it here.”
“Yeah,” David shout...ed back, moving toward the laundry room. “I threw it in the wash. Just a sec. I’ll get it.” Snatching the hanger off the rod where he’d hung it out of the dryer, David walked into the bedroom.
“Here you go.”
Trace was standing with his back to the door, pulling up very form-fitting jeans over clinging boxer briefs. “Thanks,” he said distractedly as he settled the jeans on his hips, leaving them unfastened so he could tuck the shirt in.MoreLess
Trace’s voice came from the back of the house. “David? Have you seen my red shirt? It’s not in the closet, and I’m sure I left it here.”
“Yeah,” David shout...ed back, moving toward the laundry room. “I threw it in the wash. Just a sec. I’ll get it.” Snatching the hanger off the rod where he’d hung it out of the dryer, David walked into the bedroom.
“Here you go.”
Trace was standing with his back to the door, pulling up very form-fitting jeans over clinging boxer briefs. “Thanks,” he said distractedly as he settled the jeans on his hips, leaving them unfastened so he could tuck the shirt in.MoreLess
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