The Swing, Part 2

"What are you doing out here?" I ask.

How long has he been out here? Blush gathers in my cheeks at the thought of him hearing the things I said about him. About us.

"Hiding from Darryl." Seth lowers his hands and straightens. The way he holds himself with such confidence is breathtaking. "Saving you from your asshole ex. Again."

I sigh and turn toward the swing. I sit down on it and pat the space beside me. Seth looks up at the worn branch while shrugging out of his jacket.

"That's not going to hold me."

I glance up, then at Seth. If he weighs every bit of the two-hundred pounds Chase claims he does, then I suppose it won't. I shift into the middle of the plank as Seth steps forward and drapes his jacket over my shoulders. The fabric envelops me and I melt into its warmth, into its crisp citrus and sandalwood scents.

"I saw him follow you out here," Seth says, rolling up the sleeves of his fitted, black formal shirt. Each twist of the fabric reveals an inch of, perfect ropy muscle