Page 11 of The Hook Up
“Sievers,” she said. “Mimi Sievers.” She glanced down at the fabric in her hand, then back up at him with a hopeful expression. “Maybe you’d be willing to take your shirt off?”
“Oh, Mrs. Sievers.” Ellie stepped forward and shook her head. “We don’t want to take advantage of Ty.”
Ty smiled, appreciating Ellie’s deft handling of the situation. Corralling a bunch of tipsy party-goers wasn’t easy. “It’s okay,” he said, turning back to his new geriatric best friend. “I don’t mind, if it’ll earn you some points with the granddaughter.”
He grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, hesitating for an instant. He wasn’t the sort of musclehead who lived to flex his pecs in public, but if it would help Ellie’s sales, he was game. Hell, he’d cover his body with raspberry jam and lie on an anthill if she asked him to.
What was it about those blue eyes that made him stupid? Ty yanked the shirt over his head in one quick movement. “Oooh, very nice,” Grandma squealed.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” someone else shouted. “My lord, that man is ripped.”
Ty laughed, a little embarrassed. But his new surrogate grandma beamed at him like he’d handed her a chocolate cake, and the tension eased from his shoulders. He liked being of service to Mrs. Sievers. And to Ellie, who was fluttering around, handing out catalogs and stealing glances at him.
He directed his attention back to Mrs. Sievers as she cozied up beside him, wriggling under his arm.
“Perfect,” called the petite redhead as she fired off a few shots with the older woman’s phone.
“Thank you, young man.” Mrs. Sievers patted his butt again and sauntered off, thoroughly pleased with herself.
“My pleasure,” Ty said, and wondered where his T-shirt had gone.
The brunette with the white wine stepped close to peer at the tattoo inked on his left pectoral muscle. “Is that Johnny Cash?”
Fuck.Another wave of memory hit Ty, this one less pleasant than the first. He remembered his dad swaying drunkenly on the sofa, belting out the wrong words to “I Walk the Line.”
“It is,” Ty confirmed, hoping the woman wouldn’t press for more. He glanced around for his T-shirt again, finally spotting it halfway across the room. How had that happened?
Ellie watched him with heat in her eyes, and it was enough to melt the chill of memory from his veins.
“The tattoo—it’s that famous photo,” someone else said. “The one where Johnny is flipping off the cameraman at the concert because?—”
“Okay, everyone!” Ellie called, clapping her hands at the front of the room. “Should we get started?”
He shot her a look of gratitude, admiring her crowd- handling skills. She was poised and confident and so damn beautiful it took his breath away.
She met his gaze and gave a nervous smile. “You are— um, wow.” She licked her lips. “You sure this is okay?”
“Being ogled by two-dozen horny women?” Ty lifted one eyebrow. “Yeah, I think I can handle it.”
Her cheeks went a little pinker, but she nodded. “Okay, but signal me if you get uncomfortable for any reason. If you want to stop.”
“What, like the Bat-Signal?”
Ellie gave him a funny look. “That’s my son’s favorite superhero,” she said. “Batman.”
Ty kept his expression neutral but said a quiet prayer of thanks for the reminder. Ellie was a mom, which made her strictly off-limits for dating.
But harmless flirtation? Maybe that was okay.
“I don’t actually know how to do a Bat-Signal,” he said. “But if I run screaming from the room, that’s the cue I’ve had enough.”
“Just the same, I don’t want you to get uncomfortable,” she said. “Especially once we start talking about toys and stuff.”
“I’m fine, El. Your concern is sweet, though.”
He couldn’t think of a time when someone had cared this much what happened to him, and being on the receiving end of it from Ellie Sanders warmed him from the inside.
“Humor me,” she said. “If you get uncomfortable, just say ‘I’m out.’ That’ll let me know I need to wrap things up and let you go. Deal?”
