“I should get back to—” Maggie’s intention to work flew right out the window when Sy stripped off his hat and muddy T-shirt. “Oh, my,” Dean said. “Wow,” she said in appreciation for the very fine male form that was now toweling off his dog. “Pants. Pants. Pants,” Dean chanted. “He’s not going to— Never mind,” she said as Sy toed off his boots and shoved his thumbs in the waistband of his cargo pants. She turned her back on the window. “Bright-red Calvin Klein boxer briefs,” Dean reported with approval. “Just the one tattoo. Spare flip-flops in the back. Garbage bag for the clothes and towel.
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