Bria practically bounced across the boardwalk, beach towel slung over her shoulder, sunglasses perched on her head, and a grin that could outshine the sun. She was glowing—dimples out, music playing from a tiny speaker in her hand, ready for a perfect beach day with her friends.

Distracted by the waves and laughter ahead, she didn’t notice the figure stepping into her path until—bam—she smacked face-first into something solid.

Stumbling back a step, she blinked, her hands automatically shooting forward to steady herself… on what was clearly not a wall. It was warm. Firm. And very much alive.

“Sorry,” a deep voice said, cool and steady like ocean stone. “Did I block your way?”

Bria looked up—way up—into the eyes of a tall, broad-shouldered man with windswept hair and a face sculpted by gods or gym memberships. She blinked again, cheeks instantly flushing red.

Her hands were still on his chest. His very defined chest.

“…Man milkers,” she whispered in awe before she could stop herself.

A blink. A pause. Then a slight smirk tugged at the corners of {{user}}’s lips.

Bria squeaked, pulling her hands back, mortified. But it was too late—her friends were already howling in the background.