Page 24 of Sling’s Awakening

Shutting the water off, I don’t feel any less stressed as I reach for my towel and dry off.

One thing no one tells you about working nights is that one day of your weekend is spent playing catch up on all the sleep you’ve missed throughout the week. And since I sleep when the rest of the world is awake, the only time to get groceries and the basic tasks done is on my days off.

I’d kill for a day where I don’t need to worry about anything or have something to do. Sometimes it feels like I’m being pulled in a million different directions with no end in sight. It’s exhausting.

A damn vacation is what I need.

I slip on a pair of panties and an oversized tee before shutting my blackout curtains, sealing me in for the day as I crawl into bed and settle in. I’m out as soon as my head hits the pillow, my body too worn out to stay up with my overworking mind.

I stretch my arms above my head as I try to shake off the groggy feeling. I didn’t set an alarm, but I also didn’t want to sleep so much that I won’t sleep tonight. I like to switch my schedule back to be in sync with the rest of the world to allow me to feel like a normal person in society on my days off. It just sucks that I’m usually still exhausted.

I feel like I could sleep for a week.

My hand reaches out toward my nightstand as I blindly feel around for my phone. I pull the charger out of it and check the time.

2:00 p.m.

Not too bad, I guess.

I’m kind of shocked Sling didn’t decide to be a dick and wake me up again. Maybe I actually got through to him last night.

Throwing the covers off me, I sit up in bed. Just as I’m stepping out of it, I hear a lawnmower fire up outside my window that sounds a little too close to my house.

What the hell?

I jump out of bed and whip open the blackout curtains. My breath catches in my throat as I see a shirtless Sling pushing a mower across my lawn. The tattoos that litter his arms didn’t prepare me for what the rest of his body would look like. I can’t see the designs from here, but the man is covered. Not to mention ripped.

Unconsciously, I lightly drag my bottom lip between my teeth as I watch him get to the edge of the lawn and pull the mower back, making the muscles in his shoulders bulge, showing just how strong he is.

I release my bottom lip and suck in a breath, my body stiffening in shock as realization settles in, and my hands land on my waist.

Who in the hell told him he could mow my lawn?

I should go out and yell at him, but my feet are stuck in place as I continue to watch Sling mow my lawn.

At two in the afternoon in June in Virginia Beach, it’s already in the upper nineties. His shirtless body is glistening with sweat, making the devil part of me wish I could bring him a glass of lemonade to see everything up close.

But after last night, I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Sling cuts the mower off, making everything around me go silent. The only thing that can be heard is my increased breathing as I watch him wipe the sweat off his forehead with his forearm.

“Goddamn,” I whisper.

As if he heard me, Sling turns around so he’s facing my bedroom window, looking right at me.

I don’t move.

I don’t even blink out of fear he will notice me basically eye-fucking him through the window.

There’s no way he can see me with the glare from the sun, right?

On the rare occasion I take a walk, I can never see into people’s windows when they leave them open during the day.

And believe me, I try. I’m too nosy not to, and anyone who says they would never do that is a damn liar. They wouldn’t leave them open if they didn’t want someone to see what they have going on.

Yeah, there’s no fucking way.

But to my horror, Sling lifts his hand, giving me a hot guy wave with a grin on his face, with the same arm he just used to wipe the sweat off his forehead.