Page 63 of What About Us

I’m on the verge of making a complete fool of myself, when all the poor man has done is be a good friend.

Okay, so we might have felt like more than that earlier on the couch, but it’s not like he’s kissing me and tearing my clothes off.

Damn it.

I walk into the gorgeous en suite bathroom, taking in the amazing green tile in the shower and the stunning marble countertops, and discover that the floor is heated, so my feet won’t get cold.

My feet are always cold.

After I start the shower and let it heat up, I strip out of my clothes and set them aside to wash. I don’t have a ton of clothes with me, so I’ll have to do laundry every couple of days. I was in such a rush to get the hell out of there, I blindly grabbed whatever was handy and shoved it in the bag.

I might only have six pairs of underwear, a sock, and thermal underwear.

I have no idea.

Smirking, I walk back out to the bedroom to open said bag and grab the shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and razor that I know I took from my bathroom, and then return to the shower and let the hot water loosen all the muscles that have been so tense since the fire yesterday morning.

It feels like that was a year ago now.

This bathroom is incredible. It’s warm, and this shower feels so good that I wash my hair twice before I work the conditioner in and then get to work shaving all the things while it sits and does its job.

Finally, when there’s nothing left to rinse and I’m all wrinkled, I turn off the water and reach for a towel.

But there aren’t any towels on the rack.

How did I miss that?

It’s fine. I can just go out to the bedroom and text Xander and ask him where the towels are. No biggie.

I wring out my hair the best I can, twist it up so it doesn’t drip all over the place, and tiptoe—why do we tiptoe when we’re wet, as if that will prevent making puddles on the floor?—to the door and open it, and then squeal when I find Xander on the other side, his hand raised to knock.

“Oh God!”

I dart behind the door and feel my face flame.

Oh God.

“Uh, Red?”

“I’m so sorry, I was going to grab my phone so I could text and ask about towels. I didn’t know you were there. I didn’t mean to flash you.”

“You’re still flashing me, wildcat, I can see you in the mirror.”

“Oh God.” I close my eyes. “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me. Why are you here?”

“To bring you towels.” I can hear the laughter in his voice. “I found them in the laundry. Sorry. Where do you want them?”

“WRAPPED AROUND MY BODY!”

He’s laughing now, and I hold my hand out.

Thank God, he puts one in that hand, and I hurry to wrap it around me.

“I’ll move out as soon as I get dressed,” I tell him.

“You’re being a little dramatic,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. I can’t have you seeing me naked. No. Just no.”