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The thought of him in my house all the time, going through my kitchen cabinets and manspreading on my couch and scratching his nuts with his hand down his pants as he watched my TV, made me shudder with horror as I stepped under the spray. I’d never been in his place, but it was probably horrendously messy. His yard certainly was. He probably left stuff out on the counter for days, dumped his dirty clothes on the floor of his bedroom and considered aiming for the shit stains in the toilet bowl with his piss as ‘cleaning.’

There was no way anything was going to come of this. Which I didn’t want anyway, and I knew for a fact that Dan was pretty much allergic to relationships. This would just be fooling around. Knowing that when I was horny, I could literally just walk next door to get some relief.

I grinned to myself as I soaped up. That sounded perfect, actually.

—

When I got downstairs, freshly showered and dressed in a shirt and slacks for work, Dan was no longer in the living room.

Nor was the pumpkin head.

I heard movement in the kitchen just as the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit my nose. When I walked into the room, Dan was standing at the counter in front of two steaming cups, adding a splash of creamer to one.

The pumpkin head was sitting proudly on the island, grinning at me. I blushed at the sight of it just as Dan turned.

I kind of couldn’t believe I’d done that.

Fucked a pumpkin head.

With Dan Ewen.

I wasn’t sure I’d tell Neville that part.

“Made coffee. Hope you don’t mind.” Dan held out the cup with a grin.

“Uh.” I walked over and took it. “Thanks.”

He tilted his head toward the pumpkin, grin turning sly. “Washed out the sleeves too. It’s all ready for next time.”

He’d even thrown out the plastic bag and flattened the box to put it in the recycling. Huh.

And, I noticed, he’d washed out the bowl of hot sauce that had been left on the floor. I coughed awkwardly and raised the cup to my lips so I didn’t have to say anything. I wasn’t sure how he knew how I took my coffee, but he’d added the perfect amount of creamer.

“Should probably head off in about fifteen minutes,” he said casually, grabbing his own cup. He took his coffee black, I noticed.

“Okay.”

Feeling a little disconcerted that he was just… here, in my house, I had another sip before setting down the cup. I could feel him watching me as I grabbed the big bowl of pasta salad I’d previously made for my lunches from the fridge, then bent to get a couple of Tupperware containers from the cupboard.

“Looks good,” he commented cheerfully as I spooned pasta salad into a container and snapped the lid on. “You like to cook?”

“Uh, nah. Not overly.” I grabbed the big half-eaten bag of tortilla chips that Neville and I had snacked on last night and dumped some into the other container.

“Is that for portion control?” Dan asked with interest.

I shook my head. “I just can’t stand feeling the inside of a chip bag. It’s all greasy and you end up with salt grit all over your hand.”

He huffed in amusement. I sensed him move closer as I snapped the lid on the container, and then my belly flipped when he suddenly looped an arm around my waist from behind and nuzzled my neck. “You’re cute, kitten.”

I parted my lips automatically to tell him not to call me that, but ended up biting my lip when he pressed a soft kiss just beneath my ear.

“You don’t have to be like that, you know,” I blurted, because my stomach was going weird.

He paused before lifting his head. “Like what?”

Flustered, I turned to face him, my lower back pressed against the counter as he loomed over me. “I’m not, like… Just because of what happened last time doesn’t mean you have to be all…”

When I trailed off, he raised a brow. “All what?”