Avery shrugged. “I doubt she’d accept the offer. We can ask her in the morning.”
“We’ll get back to you on that,” Grant said.
“If that’s all you need for now, I’m out here,” Swede said.
“Out here,” Grant responded.
Swede’s image disappeared, replaced by a black screen.
Grant laid his phone on the dresser and dug in his go-bag for clean boxer briefs. “While I’m in the shower, I’ll leave the door ajar to listen for noises. You know the drill.”
She nodded. “Don’t open the door for anyone until you’re out of the shower.
He handed her his gun. “Anyone tries to break the door down, don’t hesitate to shoot.”
She palmed the gun, her lips twisting. “I think I can manage.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “I know. You’ve always been a better shot than I am with a handgun.”
“And you were better with a rifle.” She leaned up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Go. Get your shower. I’ll hold down the fort.”
He nodded and ducked into the bathroom. When he closed the door, he left enough of a gap to allow noises to reach him. And if she wanted to peek inside, he had no problem with a little voyeurism from his ex. His naked body wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before.
His groin tightened as he recalled the number of times they’d showered together, making love in the spray. The water always cooled before their passion.
Grant turned on the water, adjusted the temperature and stripped out of his clothes. In the back of his mind...hell, in the back, front and side of his thoughts, he imagined Avery pushing through the door, without a stitch of clothing on and stepping into the shower with him.
He paused, half-expecting, half-wishing for that exact scenario. After a full five seconds passed with no movement at the door, he shook his head and stepped beneath the spray.
Who was he kidding? She’d asked for the divorce and had willingly signed the papers. If he was anything to her, he was a friend, not a husband or lover. That chapter of his life was over.
The memories of her naked body pressed to his beneath the shower’s spray persisted to the point he turned the heat down and stood beneath cold water, willing away his erection. When he was relatively in control again—aka shivering—he shut off the water, dried off and pulled on the boxer briefs. For a moment, he considered walking out in only that, but out of respect for their state of divorce, he stepped into his jeans and zipped them.
As much as he wanted to go back to a point in time where they were still married and had that ease of being together, they weren’t married, and they were still awkward together. Or, at least, he was. His natural instinct was to touch her, to put his arms around her and kiss her when she was scared, sad, mad...hell, whenever he wanted.
With a sigh, he stepped out of the bathroom.
The first thing he saw was the neat piles of Avery’s new clothes laid out on the dresser.
He found Avery carrying a pillow to the single chair in the corner of the room where a blanket lay folded neatly on the seat.
“What are you doing?”
“I only need one pillow,” she said. “I found an extra blanket in the closet.”
Grant frowned, “You don’t plan on sleeping there, do you?”
She laid the pillow on top of the blanket and faced him. “That’s my plan.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“You’re not sleeping in a chair.”
Avery crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“I’m not your boss, but I am reasonable.” He tipped his head toward the bathroom. “Get your shower. I’ll sleep in the chair. You can have the bed.”
