questioned those trips because he always came home with expense receipts, branded folders, and boring stories about conference rooms.
That night, while getting ready for bed, he removed his T-shirt.
His entire back was deeply tanned.
Except for one word.
Across the middle, in pale skin, someone had clearly used sunscreen as a stencil.
CHEATER!
I stood in the bathroom doorway, staring.
Grant searched through a drawer, completely unaware of what had been burned into his skin.
“Did you move my gray shorts?” he asked.
“They’re in the laundry room.”
“
