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“Do you have a blow-dryer?” I asked.
“Not anymore…”
I removed my hand as Eugene backed herself into the counter.
“Have you gone shopping for clothes yet?” I knew the answer. I’d seen her wear the same three outfits since she’d been there. She used the washer and dryer a lot because of it. I wouldn’t consider the garments she wore around the house clothes at all because of all the holes in them.
She crinkled her nose. “Clothes?”
“Yes. Remember, you lost all of your clothes?”
“Oh,” she said, studying her feet like they were the most fascinating things in the world. “Not yet.”
“Why not? If it’s money, I can cover it.”
Let me fucking take care of you, woman,was what I wanted to say. Then maybe beg her to let me take care of that body of hers, too.
Shit. I was losing my damned mind.
Still, I knew I wouldn’t stop worshipping her until she was trembling beneath me.
I needed to fucking cool down.
“What? No,” she said. “I have the money. I just haven’t prioritized purchasing anything yet.”
I looped my index finger into one of the holes in her shirt and pulled at it. She sucked in a breath as I narrowed my gaze. “That’s the problem, Red. You don’t prioritize yourself.”
Her cheeks reddened as she yanked her shirt away, causing the tear to rip more. It was never my intention to embarrass her. I wanted to see her cared for. No, Iwanted to be the one to care for her. And that body. Fuck. I knew I’d be good to her.
“I better not see you at work tomorrow. Go relax, get some clothes, and a blow-dryer.”
She crossed her arms and glared. I knew she was dissatisfied with me, but something about her anger only made her sweeter. With the blush on her cheeks and the wet hair, she looked like nothing more than a gorgeous dessert for someone with a sweet tooth. I had a terrible sweet tooth.
“You said I could have as many hours as I wanted two weeks out of the month.”
I stepped away and scratched my neck, trying to process my thoughts and her words at the same time.Did I just compare my houseguest to a dessert?“You can, but I want you in new clothes.”
“Am I bringing the business down with what I’m wearing?” Her voice got higher-pitched the longer she spoke. “Some of my clothes might be old and ratty, but they’re not dirty. I’m just as clean as you are.” The last word cracked from her lips.
I didn’t have the time to be worried about my sweet tooth or that I might be a creep. Not when she spoke like that,always mistaking my words for something else. Stepping close, I propped my hands on each side of her on the counter and leaned into her. The hurt faded from her expression as her lips parted. She didn’t know what I was doing. Even I didn’t.You did, you fucker, another part of me whispered. But it felt good to press some of me onto her. “Saying you need clothes is different than saying you’re dirty, Red. If I implied something else, would I risk dirtying myself by being so close? Look at these pj’s. You’re right. I’m fond of my fucking pj’s and now they’re touching you.”
I pushed away from her right after I said that. I acted on impulse, and what I did began to hit me. Maybe I couldn’t be that good guy after all. Maybe I couldn’t help her because helping might mean I’d try to consume her. The thoughts were sobering and revealed the truth. It was so much easier to keep telling myself she wasn’t my type than to admit the reality. She had me spinning in her clumsy, little orbit since the moment I saw her. That was the truth. Whatever I liked before her, I couldn’t recall. All I saw was her.
I rubbed my temple and exhaled. “I shouldn’t have gotten into your space like that. I don’t like people in mine, so I have no right to yours. I just needed you to see that I don’t find you unclean. Not at all. But I do want to see you in new clothes. After losing everything, don’t you want to splurge, even a little, on yourself?”
She blinked twice, shaking her head like she had come out of a trance, before replying, “I need to. You’re right. I will. But Loretta said the tips are the best on the weekends, so you’re asking me to give that up. Of course, I’d rather work and make money than spend it.”
“How about you take alonglunch break tomorrow and check out some of the stores downtown, grab some clothes, then come back?” I grabbed one of her wet strands, unable to resist.
She beamed, and my body ignited. I felt the heat of her smile at the tips of my ears, my fingertips, and my fucking toes. “That will work.”
I jerked my hand away as desire dug into my bones, aching for more than a lock of hair. “I’m allowing thirty-six hours next week.”
The smile faded quickly. “That’s four hours short.”
“Like I said, you only get two weeks to work overtime. I’m allowing no more.”
“You work all the time, but you’re going to complain about me?” She pouted, and I normally hated when people nagged, so why was she so fucking adorable? “I’m not going to overtire myself. I like making money.”
