Page 9 of Warm and Dry

I didn't look up because no one ever needed me…especially right when they came in. I had the front panel off the machine and both hands inside when I realized the footsteps had stopped a few feet away and stayed there.

After carefully backing up, I turned and looked at the customer waiting for me.

Forest was standing there holding a single sock. It was light gray and loosely balled up in his fist like something he'd grabbed on his way out the door, which was probably exactly what he did. He was wearing a dark green jacket over a henley and his hair was down over his shoulders.

He looked fucking delectable.

I sat back on my heels and took my time wiping my hands on the shop rag as I smirked. "Lemme guess. You lost a sock?"

His eyes went wide like he knew he’d been caught, but his jaw was set like he wasn’t intimidated by it. "Uh, yeah." He held up the sock as if I hadn’t noticed it already. "I think I left the other one in the dryer. Do you remember seeing it?"

I nodded to the wadded fabric in his hand. "Lemme take a look at that."

For a second, he seemed surprised that I was playing along, but then he held it by the toe and let it hang. "I've been looking everywhere for it."

"Since Saturday." I leaned forward as if taking a closer look. “Doesn’t look familiar.”

"That sucks. They were a gift from my grandma." He was fully committing to his story, which I respected. "She’s no longer with us."

Damn. He was going all in with a dead grandma. I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered, amused, or disturbed.

“Well, let’s double-check.” I went to the dryer he used and made a show of checking the drum, even though they were cleared of left items every few hours. The drum was empty, but we both knew it would be. "Nothing in there."

"Huh." He stared into the drum like it might produce the sock if he stared long enough. "That's strange."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. "Really strange."

He blew out a deep exhale. "Maybe I left it at the rink."

"Maybe." The silence stretched for just a beat longer than was comfortable as I watched his expression hold steady through sheer determination.

He was a terrible liar but he was a committed one, and there was something adorable about how hard he was selling it. “I guess I should check there.”

After another moment, I let him off the hook. "You want some coffee? I've got a fresh pot upstairs."

The relief that moved across his face was unmistakable. "Yeah. Sure. If you're not in the middle of something."

I glanced at the machine I'd opened up and needed to put back together. "It can wait."

He followed me up the stairs without a word and then took a moment to look around the apartment when I let him in.

“Welcome to my home sweet home.” I watched him inventory everything as he turned in a circle. He clocked the cookbooks and the row of herbs growing along the kitchen window as I grabbed mugs from the cabinet and poured us each a cup.

"This place is really nice." He dragged his finger along the spines of the books. "You like to cook?"

"Yeah, but mostly because I like to eat." I handed him a mug and watched him wrap both hands around it. "Do you cook?"

“A little.” He shrugged as he brought the mug up to his lips to take a sip. The knuckles on his right hand were scraped raw.

I reached for his wrist and ran my thumb along the bottom of his hand. "What happened here?"

He sucked in a breath and stood still. "Tight space at work this morning. Caught it on a bracket when I was trying to get to a fitting."

My brow furrowed as I saw the angry red border growing around the cuts. "You put anything on them?"

He shook his head. "It's fine. They’ll be scabbed up by tomorrow."

“Or infected.” I checked his other hand to see if there were any other injuries and then took a step back. “Wait right here.” I went to the bathroom to grab my first-aid kit.