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She teetered on the edge of a smile. Ethan’s reaction was almost as good as the one she expected from Ian. “Until now?”
“That is correct,” he said with a wary nod. “And seriously, I’m fine. But thank you. I should just…go.”
“Then how about I give you a ride home?” Surely he knew that chafing issue was real, and she’d hate to think herself responsible—however indirectly—for damaging any of his parts.
He jerked his gaze to hers, his face draining of color. “Okay, the dryer it is. Where’s your bathroom?”
Interesting. She gestured toward the short hallway. “On the left.” Once he’d disappeared behind the door, she ducked into her bedroom and made a quick check of her appearance. She was no diva, but it was another million-degree summer in New York, and she’d been flustered to find herself locked out of pretty much everything she owned, so there was no telling what she’d done to her hair. Fortunately, she was presentable.
On the way out, she nearly collided with Ethan in the hall. They stood there for a brief, awkward moment before he took a step back, and not a second too soon. His hair was un-plastered from his head, and she imagined he’d run his fingers through it. Then she imagined herself with her hands threading those platinum streaks, and her pulse responded with a cartoon-like whooshing and hammering. Overkill, perhaps, but she couldn’t deny the visceral reaction. As long as she didn’t give into it, she’d be fine. And avoiding a thing with him didn’t seem to be among her problems. The way Ethan kept glancing toward the exit, she half expected he’d make a break for it, clown pants and all. “You want me to take those?” she managed.
His gaze tracked from her mouth to her face, then jerked south toward his armload of wet clothing. “I think I can handle them,” he said. “Much more so than I can these pants. Are you sure the owner isn’t going to…miss them?”
She laughed. “Would anyone? They’re a gift for my brother, and if I thought he wanted them to begin with, I wouldn’t have bought them. Anyway, the dryer is in the basement. That’s the door over there.” She let him take the lead, trailing behind. She hated spiders, and no matter how often she yelled and waved her broom, the little jerks rebuilt. “You can, um, lead the way.”
He shot her a dubious look, the seriousness of which he couldn’t quite pull off in those ridiculous pants. “Is there something I should know?”
“No—” Her phone rang. Boyd Von Snootington. Not his real last name, but accurate nonetheless. She frowned and silenced the call, or attempted to. The phone slipped out of her shaking hand. Ethan caught it easily and handed it back.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“That seems to be an ongoing theme between us.” A weak laugh followed, and she knew she’d only further convinced him she was not okay, but her wretched little sob story wasn’t something on which she wanted to focus. She’d much rather lose herself in a pair of green eyes and a body absolutely built for pleasure. “The dryer is just…” She gestured needlessly. Her basement was empty except for the washer-dryer setup. And probably a whole slew of arachnids. She might be the only person in the world without a single ounce of cardboard in her basement, but she didn’t own much. She didn’t need stuff. The house had belonged to her grandparents, who had left it to Rue’s mother, who had married up and could no longer bear the thought of such a pittance of real estate. She’d promptly listed it for sale and had been furious to find out Rue was the buyer. Apparently an address in Flatbush was no comparison to one on the Upper East Side, as her mother had wasted no time and a lot of breath to tell Rue what an embarrassment she was to the family. Nevertheless, Elaine Campbell would be livid if she ever got it through her head that Rue was leaving to fulfill her dream of being a conservation photographer. One simply does not leave the establishment of New York to traipse through the wilderness, her mother had said when Rue had first mentioned her career goal. It’s uncivilized. Rue had stopped trying to convince her otherwise, but she’d flat out refused to sell the house. She wouldn’t be in the city often, but she liked the idea of having her grandparents’ house to go back to.
