Page 31 of The Key Holder

“You’re alive and you made it all the way to the kitchen! I take it you’re feeling better.”

I groaned. “I think my massive hangover is suppressing my ankle pain.”

“Your body has priorities.” Ford nodded. “Nice. You want a Gatorade.”

“We have Gatorade?”

Ford smiled as he opened the fridge. “Picked it up yesterday with the margarita mix.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Ford chuckled and handed me a bottle, which I promptly opened and chugged.

“Wow.”

“What?” I covered my burp.

“That was impressive.”

I smirked. “I was thirsty.”

“I can see that. You want another?”

“Sure.”

The toaster dinged and I snagged a plate from the cupboard.

“Butter?” Ford asked.

“Yeah, thanks.”

As I took my seat at the table, my gaze drifted to Ford’s throat as he finished off his bottle. After a loud and expressive “Ahhh,” he asked, “You good if I finish your shower repair today?”

“Yeah, but before you start, can you help me upstairs? I’d really like to shower sooner rather than later.”

“Of course,” Ford answered. “I’ll go rinse off real quick then come back down for you.”

“Great, and thanks for the muffins.” I took my first bite.

Damn.

Was there anything he couldn’t do?

I debated asking Ford to help me down the stairs while wearing just a towel or to have him go downstairs to grab me some clothes.

“You all good in there?”

Fuck it.

“Um, I feel like I'm gonna have a hard time keeping my towel on if you’re helping me down the stairs.”

“I can grab you some clothes, or you can wear something of mine.”

As tempting as that sounded…he didn’t give me enough time to decide.

“I’ll be right back,” he said through the door, so I waited.

A minute later, there was a knock on the door. “Dylan?”