The shorts were black, the T-shirt gray and the hair a damp brown, short and probably less curly when it was dry. A white towel was draped around his neck.

Suddenly tight buns stopped. Cass, being in midstride, didn’t, and she couldn’t get her footing quickly enough to keep from tripping over him and going down onto the decomposed granite path.

“Ouch! Dammit!” She grabbed her knee.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” tight buns said.

“Idiot! What were you thinking to stop like—” The words died on her lips. He was Adonis.