I creep toward the kitchen, trying to be as discreet as possible. I peek inside. The only person in the kitchen is Mason. He’s leaned over the dishwasher with a small towel in hand and a great big frown on his face as he listens to the girls chatter back and forth over the phone. My heart squeezes and I’m distracted from how mad I am. He’s talking to his younger sisters, isn’t he? I try not to leer at his perfectly muscular body but he’s wearing a pair of low-slung gym shorts hugging his delicious glutes and one of those white sleeveless undershirt thingies showing off his big, corded arms.
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