And by keeping myself busy loading paint cans in the back of the SUV instead of giving her a tour, I can avoid being alone with her in a place where we can kiss without being interrupted.
A place that has a bed in it.
Nope.I hit the button for the liftgate and stand back as it slowly closes.
“Do you want me to lock this?” I hear Whitney call from the porch.
“Please.”
She wasn’t gone long enough to have snooped, which is a little disappointing, actually. It seems like if she was really into me, she would have poked around my house—maybe even taken a peek in my bedroom.
“Are you going to talk to the town hall about the snow?” she asks once we’re back on the road.
“Yeah, I’ll give them a call this afternoon.”
“I hate to say it, but I still don’t have those documents, so if you don’t need me, I’ll head back to the inn and find out what the problem is.”
“The boss is away and it’s almost Christmas,” I say, and her sound of annoyance makes me chuckle. “We can swing by and get your car, but I’m going to the inn anyway to drop this paint off so we can paint tomorrow.”
“Bring coffee.”
“Of course. Did you pack any old jeans?”
She laughs. “I don’t own any old jeans. I don’t own anynewjeans.”
“Okay. That’s…different. What do you wear when you’re doing casual things? Like gardening or grocery shopping or hanging out with your family?”
“I rarely see my family, I live in an apartment so I don’t have any dirt to dig in or grass to mow, and I do my grocery shopping on my way home from work without changing my clothes. I have business, business casual and relaxing at home clothes.”
“Okay, what do you wear when you’re relaxing at home?”
“Leggings and a T-shirt, usually.”
Maybe that visual shouldn’t jumpstart my heart rate, but it does. “Perfect. Did you bring any with you?”
“Yes, but?—”
“There you go.”
“I brought them to sleep in, so their current usage is as pajamas.”
“You didn’t bring pajamas to use as pajamas?”
“I don’t wear pajamas to sleep in my own bed.”
My brain shorts out, and I’m not sure how I keep the SUV on the road as images of Whitney, naked in bed, flash through my head. I strangle the steering wheel, trying to get myself under control.
I have to clear my throat twice before I can speak, though. “Yeah, that won’t work for painting, I guess.”
“Makes the clean-up easier, though,” she says, and then she rests her hand on my arm as she laughs.
It’s probably a good thing she goes straight from my SUV to her car when we get back to the station, and that I don’t need her help moving the paint cans into the inn’s garage because there’s almost no chance I’d be able to keep my hands off of her in the state I’m in.
I’m going to stop by town hall, finish up my day, and then climb into a cold shower and stay there until it’s time to see Whitney again.
Chapter
Nineteen
