Phoenix tries to knock his arm while he’s getting the angle just right, but he sees it coming and lifts his elbow out of range.
“Alright, alright. Easy,” he chuckles. “Play nice, will ya?”
She snorts. “You’re one to talk.”
“Leave me to my work,” he mutters, shifting his hands up an inch.
“You call drooling over him work?”
He ignores the commentary, watches through the frame of his two hands as, yards ahead, Bradley turns into the bright sunlight, looks off down the coastline with a sleepy disposition. He’s like a cat in the sunshine, smiley and loose limbed, content.
“Hey, Bradshaw!” he calls, grinning already.
Those broad shoulders open up in his direction, a smile at the corner of the other man’s lips and Jake admires the sight, drinks it all in. The warmth, the glow, the tan. It’s a damn good view.