Silent Hearts (Hamilton Stables 3) by Melissa West

“He was sitting right under it!”
    “He was sitting in a bench halfway across the park.”
    “Well, that doesn’t mean a thing.”
    Nick went back to soaping the car, a smile still on his face. He was methodical about it—too methodical, Becca would say—but he liked monotonous activities like this, activities where he didn’t need to think. Or see his brothers. “It means you’re the least athletic person on the planet, and if you go scuba diving, you’ll likely drown. I can’t allow that, now can I? Who would listen to me bitch about everything all the time?”
    “Then you could just hire a shrink and sit on one of those fancy couches.”
    “And explain how my corrupted childhood has turned me into an asshole?”
    “And analyze why your favorite color is black.”
    Nick straightened. “What’s wrong with black? It’s sophisticated.”
    “It’s morbid. People choose colors for favorite colors.”
    “Black is a color; ask Crayola.”
    At that, Becca rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips in that sassy way she did when she was about to lecture him. He loved it and couldn’t help but grin. “Black is the opposite of color. It’s depressing, and besides, you look terrible in black.”
    “Listen, woman, no need for insults.” Nick turned the hose on Becca, spraying her once, before holding the sprayer up like a gun. “Say you’re sorry.”
    She glared at him with the intensity of a raging fire. “Hit me with that again and you’re dead, Hamilton. Dead.”
    “You and what army? I’ve got a foot on you, plus all these muscles.” He tugged off his shirt and flexed dramatically, laughing, until he caught Becca’s expression as she took him in. Her eyes widened a touch and she swallowed, her clenched fists relaxing as a brief flicker of something that looked a lot like attraction crossed her face.
    But then she cleared her throat and looked away, and before Nick could process what had just happened, she dashed for the soap bucket. “You spray me and I dump this on you.”
    He grinned. “Then it’s a good thing I took off my shirt. I don’t have a change of clothes, so unless you want to see the full frontal, I suggest you not.” He knew she would redden at his words, but he didn’t expect her gaze to flicker down and then back up to his face, her eyes darkening. God, was it possible she’d had the same thoughts he’d had about them? Surely not. He flirted with her all the time, but she never hinted at anything more, never said anything to suggest she’d thought about him as more than her best friend. So what was with all these looks?
    Sure he needed to do something or else they might not survive the tension building between them, he flashed her one more grin and said, “You can just call this lesson one of scuba diving: remember to breathe.”
    “What the—?”
    But before she could finish, he turned the sprayer on her, drenching her from head to toes and, good as her word, she tossed the bucket of soapy water at him, the suds hitting him square in the face and then sopping down his chest and shorts.
    “I didn’t think you would do it!” Nick removed his glasses and shook out his hair.
    “I told you I would. Dammit, I’m drenched.” She stomped her foot, but all she managed to do was splash herself from the puddle that had collected at her feet.
    Nick cracked a smile and she pointed at him. “Don’t you dare.” Surrendering, he held up his hands, his eyes on her, covered in water, her hair hanging in drenched waves around her shoulders, and her hands on her hips in aggravation, and he thought she might just be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
    “Hot shower?” he asked.
    “With you? No, thanks; you’d probably turn the water to cold on me.”
    “I didn’t say with me, but hey, if you’re offering, I’m not denying.”
    Becca shook her head, but she was smiling at him now. “Let’s finish this. I have to leave in an hour.”
    “For the scuba diving